When No One Is Watching

by Alyssa Cole

I should just start building my cabin alongside Fuckboy Creek because obviously it’s where I intend to spend the rest of my days.

In all the times I’d moved in New York, I’d only thought about how safe the area was for me, not what my presence meant for people in the neighborhood. Not about what advantages I had that they didn’t. I was poor, too, after all, even though I had figured out how not to be, for a little while at least.

“You work at the public school. This is going to be an independent school priced just high enough to do the work of segregation for the people who will send their kids there.

When I think of a Black community, the first thing that comes to mind—even if I don’t want it to—is crime. Drugs. Gangs. Welfare. That’s all the news has talked about since I was a kid. Not old people drinking tea.

Not being able to call the police when you need help really sucks, I’m learning.