It is early June, and Cousin Kim and I are about to watch "Roots," the landmark 1970s television miniseries about a slave family. Kim says she's heard of the movie but has never seen it. So I go to queue the video in the cassette player, but first I make a cup of tea. And straighten the pillows on my couch. Then I check my voice mail.I haven't finished this Washington Post article about interracial people and families and passing, but I already know it's good. Is it irresponsible to blog things I haven't read? How else am I going to remember to read them? U: Turns out the article is more about black people and racial consciousness, and a little about passing... and I was right, it is good.
I am puttering. Procrastinating. Loath to begin. Because I don't know if our blood ties are strong enough to withstand slavery. And I am scared to watch "Roots" with a white girl. Scared of my anger. Scared of my pain. Scared that she won't get it. Scared of how much I want her to. Scared of the way race can make strangers out of family.
It is early June, and
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