Not Passing

Our white American dad harped on Viz for his long hair. “You look like you’re not sort of a good guy,” he said in his thick Alzheimer’s accent. “What if, imagine you are stopped, pulled over by the police, and you look like you’re a scruffy and.” End of sentence.

I made the mistake of defending Viz. “Oh! You mean they’ll racial profile him?”

Dad was furious. “And what’s wrong with that?” Police were always right. We never were.

I sat there, smiling, swallowing my retort. If you didn’t want us to be profiled, you should’ve just had white children.