These days when I think of racism, I can’t help but think of me. Most of my closest friends are Back as social media fervently testifies. I could defend this fact by arguing, ‘It’s them, not me’ but that’s easy. It also isn’t true. The past, the present and experience condition me to distrust. At times, it’s been a matter of survival yet I know I should not hold onto these fears. I don’t want to, but I do. They are familiar. They are learned. But they are wrong. Is it me? Yes, sometimes it is.