Dig.

by A.S. King

Moving to Jamaica would be nice, but people there already know the truth about poverty. They don’t think it’s a coincidence that they’re descendants of slaves and also poor in a country that was ruled by Colonialists for so long. I’m needed here because this is where the ignorance is. Even my own.

MAKE SMARTER MISTAKES! STOP BEATING YOURSELF UP! CONTROL YOUR VARIABLES! BLEND AND STRAIN! CHANGE YOUR MIND! The Freak knows this sounds corny because you’re so used to looking at hateful shit, right? News shows and conspiracy theories. Rape jokes and dank memes. You’re so used to the humor of the put-down that you didn’t see that you slid down a hole and into a tunnel. DIG YOUR WAY OUT!

KATIE. I always thought I was so much better than other white people. Since my ninth birthday party, I was part of us. The tunnel would protect me from them. But I think I might be them. Shit. I think we’re all part of them. I guess that means I’m finally out of the tunnel, then.

Living a lie is more dangerous than any blender/any snake/any brother.

The man with the tattoo is real. He really did loan me a shovel. I really did have to wait until spring to see his arm. I don’t know what to say except: You can’t strip-search your potential friends, so pay attention.