The Heart of Whiteness: Ijeoma Oluo Interviews Rachel Dolezal, the White Woman Who Identifies as Black
More than simply a return to form, it’s a look at what it is to have lived a life that hasn’t pulled you out of any type of longing or sadness but has simply made the longing and sadness shift into something else.
As I’ve aged, I’ve become less comfortable with the idea of a sadness that isn’t tethered to anything in particular. As a teenager, even in my early twenties, I could be sad and answer to no one and nothing, which is when sad songs did their best work. Perhaps it’s the rise in responsibilities for some of us as we age, or the way vulnerability is less of a risk when we’re too young to understand its stakes. But I see, so often, people like me, thinking that there has to be a reason they can give people to justify whatever sadness is hanging over them on any particular day. This seems especially odd in times like these, when any given day is absolutely littered with land mines of grief that we must tiptoe around. We owe no one any explanation for our sadness, but “Why are you so sad today?” could have many simple answers now: I accidentally watched the news for too long; the market next door sold out of the sorbet that I fell in love with; I saw a boy and thought about how a boy his age died somewhere that is not here.
"You don’t just have to be in this one box or that other box — football player or academic. You can be in two boxes."
Tolerance ≠ acceptance ≠ support
Why Pride? Because, grief.