You asked me: Where you from? And I told you but you asked again: No, where are you from-from? I was more puzzle than man at that point, because I don’t always remember that I’m black any more than I remember I have feet. Your parents, what about them? Same place, I said, and then it clicked into place at that point – problem solved. My grandparents are from the Caribbean, I said, and you didn’t have to say anymore, because you’d already said it.
This is not your home.
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