PASS THE MICROPHONE
Black History Month is a confusing time for the white-passing daughter of a black man. What am I supposed to claim? Should I claim anything at all? Is the act of proudly claiming my background, telling the tale of my black father, and grandfather, and great-grandfather, appropriating and overstepping into lifetimes of resilience that I will never understand? I don’t know the answer to these questions. However, I don’t think I’m in the place to claim Black History Month. I am only in the place to listen. That is the…
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