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A writer exploring all 50 states while working remotely. Special focus on literary culture in different American cities with guest posts from locals.
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My Tinder feed is specifically unintentionally anti white-guy: step one of the internalized brown-girl survival guide is to save yourself the colonization. Youâre looking for connection and the most they offer is free wi-fiâwhy date a coffee shop, the college degree will help you get by, even if it is a degree in... ... English. Okay. So maybe you match with that dude who thinks his ancestors discovered lo-fi, Mr. Oil Money, Sugar Chaddy, Mike who codes his love letters like Comp-Sci, all the sandy-hair sweethearts, two-faced business school tools whoâI hear fuck by day, fund the arts by night, I mean a swipe is a swipeâbut mostly I worry why they swipe. Wonder whether they imagine a curry-cooking-wifey, sari-slinging-mami, skin like untapped gold rush, secrets where her legs touch and what do white dicks even look like? I donât want to know. So when I see Buster send me a message at 1am Iâm like okay, Buster, until it turns out Buster is a busty blonde at Loyola M and Iâm like, okay, Buster! I wonder why her gender changes things. Why bisexuals feel safer to me, why bi guys are a haven sexual elite when we all grew up on Jasmine, and Iâd be silly to think only white kids laughed at Baljeet. I bet Pocahontas helped Buster bust a meat before clicking Katara on repeat and god do I love Katara, but younger me worried I wasnât half as sexyâ mystic brown Princess Peach eyes a bright blue fantasyâ girl how do you shave your armpits in that Fire Nation heat? Share your hairless secrets with me. Male viewers undress you while I wish only to be near you, budding bi fantasy of what brown girl could beâclipped feminine audacityâ though if you were on Tinder all theyâd ask you is what language you speak. But you wouldnât care, would you? Youâre no Tinder whore, no me, no paranoid of any racial reference and what it could barely mean, no second-hand fury, intergenerational trauma-speak guilty of how any brown woman before me was perceived no hyper-fixation, discoloration on your knees, no smell when you bleed and no creepy categorization of Tinder guys into melanin gradient dissecting the algorithm feedâbut only when convenient. Knowing thereâs nothing wrong with white dick, only the knowledge that every mother before mine suffered because of colonizer seed.