from People Who Look Like You

The problem of being with a white man belongs only to you, not to the white man with whom you share this problem.

This itself becomes a problem: one only you will bring up, a problem you see that he doesn’t. 

You periodically email the tall white man articles on news involving Asians. He is busy and forgets, or he has a bad week and forgets. When you remind him, he is earnestly sorry, promisesto read immediately. You look for a pattern like a nagging mother, for when behaviors resolve on their own.  

At church the tall white man is mistaken for the other Asian woman’s white husband. You laugh together at his experience of what has happened to you and others countless times. This is graciousness born of privilege, you realize, a fact you laugh at too. 

Researching the history of Asian-white couples, you crawl into bed after clicking through to Reddit from another article. The article was good, the Reddit comments expected. Although you were good and did not click View Entire Discussion, “racist toxic WMAF couples” loops itself in your brain. The tall white man journals—a nightly ritual—after hugging you and clicks off the light. If you could reach far enough, you could touch the pink meat where the words have been etched.