No one ever asked “what” I am. They just assume. They approach me with all sorts of ideas about what food I like, what music I listen to, the books I read, and my favorite movies and tv. They have an opinion of what I should sound like when I speak, the language I should use, and what clothes I like to wear.
I am constantly unsettling them with my “atypical” responses and opinions. If I had a penny for the times I have heard, “you don’t sound Black,” “you know that band?” “you like this movie?” “you aren’t like most Black people I know,” well, I’d be a millionaire.
Unpacking preconceived notions about myself has proven to be quite exhausting.