Dig.

by A.S. King

She says, “My mom told me that my dad was an ass man when I was five years old. I didn’t know what it meant. She told me later that some men are ass men, some are breast men, and some are leg men. I’m looking for a brain man. Haven’t found one yet.” I don’t know what to say to her. I never thought about it this way. Also: hell of a way to start a conversation. “It’s like they have us carved up before we’re even in middle school. Fuck men. No offense, but y’all are a bunch of assholes . . . fathers included.” I don’t know what to say to that, either. I want to tell her I’m a brain man, but I’m not one. I’ve looked at breasts. I’ve looked at legs. I’ve looked at asses. “Maybe it’s because no one can actually see the brain,” I say. “Like, you have to get to know someone before you know their brain.” “No shit.”