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“My dad is Black”
Said my half-white, half-Chinese daughter
When she was three
And had already absorbed the lesson
That our family was different somehow
But had not figured out where she fit
In America’s structured reliance on the binary
Black or white
Rich or poor
Girl or boy
City or country
Society’s structures had no word for
and so could not accept the existence of
A half-white half-Chinese child
Because they didn’t fit into the binary
At three she only knew
That our family was different somehow
And that she had already
been defined by it

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