Ace of Spades

by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

I can smell his cologne; fruity

Unlike in my middle school where I was everyone’s favourite punching bag, because apparently my whole essence screams gay easy target.

“I don’t trust white people like you do. I obviously don’t think they are all murderers, but I think they are all racist.”

“It sounds wild, I know, but racism is a spectrum and they all participate in it in some way. They don’t all have white hoods or call us mean things, I know that. But racism isn’t just about that – it’s not about being nice or mean. Or good versus bad. It’s bigger than that. We’re all in this bubble being affected by the past. The moment they decided they got to be white and have all the power and we got to be Black and be at the bottom, everything changed. If we can’t talk about it honestly, and I mean really talk about it, then what’s the point? I read some Malcolm X last year, and I agree with him. Some might even treat you good, like an owner might treat a pet.”

God never falters.” I want to laugh. He never falters, huh? Isn’t our life one big falter?

I can “fix” the kinks in my hair, but not the kinks in this whole system that hates me and Devon and everyone who looks like us.