Black boys don’t get a long boyhood. It ends where white fear begins, brought on by deepening voices, broadening backs, and coarsening hair in new places beneath our clothing. Then there’s our skin, which provides little middle ground. The world seems either fascinated or repulsed by it. Tuan right now is in a perfect place of not knowing any of this. For him, his body is merely a vehicle to run from place to place and explore the world. He is wonderfully oblivious, as I must have been at one point.
