“If Harlowe wasn’t white, would it be okay? Like, if you were dating a brown round Latina and she brought home something from a Black feminist collective or whatever, would it be weird too?” I asked, and helped myself to a delicious bite. Maxine took a deep, slow breath, crossed her muscled arms across her chest. “The thing is, Juliet, I’ve never appreciated someone else’s unrequested guidance on my identity. I don’t want their interpretation of who I am or where they think my politics should lie. My Blackness, my queerness, my theological inclinations, what I’m like at a family reunion, who I
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