When I look in the mirror I see a girl. I see a girl with my dad’s nose and eyebrows, and my mother’s eyes and olive skin. I see a girl with a Tesoro chin, with my grandmother’s mouth and her accompanying habit of getting her foot stuck in it. According to Michael Kimmel, straight white men are the default from which everyone else deviates, and it is easier to see the deviations than the ubiquitous norm. Despite this, when I look in the mirror, I don’t really see a mixed race girl. I do not see a person of color unless someone reminds me.
I wrote about “feeling white” while not really looking white over at Medium.
Trying to Outrun The Holidays (Before They Even Start)
Be thin, they say, be fit (a thing to do, not have.) (no, never)
But it’s getting dark
so much earlier.
Soon there will be candy, cookies
cake. Mashed potatoes;
baked. Turkeys; cider;
besprinkled in rainbows;
The sun is sluggish,
it doesn’t want to get up
or out of bed. Still
the alarm is set. It’s getting dark
so early now. The park
in the dark is scary. Bad things
happen to girls in the park
in the dark. But
(you must) fit, they say. Get up
out of bed and in the dark, run.