As I created my identity, it became a patchwork quilt, a mosaic of irregular shards and pieces I meticulously tried to meld together into Jason Michael Bosak Diakité. I was never American, never Swedish, never white but never black either. I was a no-man’s-land in the world. I have a complex system of roots that branches across continents, ethnicities, classes, colors, and eras. I am Jason, son of the black Madubuko Diakité and the white Elaine Bosak. I am all the countries my forefathers came from and were shipped to in chains. I am all the colors and shades of their skin. I am their rage and
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