– Today I started binge-ing A Different World, beginning at Season 2. It is still fabulous. I am a lot like Freddie, so much so it almost hurts. Except she is way louder than I am. Everything that she says and feels lines up pretty close to my personality, but, like the Birdcage, I keep it all inside.
– Every time Eryka Badu’s Tyrone comes on my radio, I feel like I am going to church. There are usually exaltations and finger snaps interspersed with my singing along. Preach, Sister Badu, preach.
– In a little over a week, I’m heading out on another Broadway road trip. Two of my black friends and I are going to NYC again. We’ve got tickets to see Mel B in Chicago. We’re also going to enter a bunch of lotteries to possibly see other shows. [Hamilton, of course, as well as Aladdin, Lion King, Great Comet, Dear Evan Hansen, Book of Mormon, Kinky Boots, and On Your Feet are my current list of possibles. (BroadwayForBrokePeople.com; I do my research.)] I’m really looking forward to the show, but I’m also stoked to be around black folks for an extended period of time. It’ll be exciting and relaxing; it’s how we do.
– Much of my day is spent around a lot of white people. Like, a lot. The majority of my coworkers are white. The majority of my fares when I’m driving are white. So much whiteness throughout my day. That shit is exhausting. The thing that angers me about it is they have no idea because for them it’s normal. Of course everyone looks like me. That’s just the way it is. To sort of paraphrase James Baldwin, to be black in America is to be in a constant state of anger, exasperation, and exhaustion.
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