As I stood there waiting for the train to stop, I noticed two Black women looking over my outfit.
“Oh god,” I thought. “They’re judging me for wearing this Wu-Tang Clan sweatshirt.”
I wondered if they cared that I’m really only into the Clan’s most mainstream stuff. Would they judge me for not really knowing what a “gravel pit” is? If they felt annoyance to another unassuming-looking Asian person wearing Wu-Tang. If they thought, “God, just because Wu-Tang has an obsession with kung fu movies…I need Asian people to stop acting like they’re Black.”
I looked at them subtly from behind my sunglasses. Noticed the Hawaiian leis they were wearing for a friend’s graduation. Watched as they pointed specifically at the chrysanthemum embroidery on my Nike high-tops.
As I exited, I pivoted my heels so they could see how the flowers were coordinated, but unique between left mate and right mate. They nodded in approval and waved good-bye.
I guess we’re all borrowing anyway.