Losing Whiteness When You Lose Your Father
To lose whiteness is to compress the white half, to describe it awkwardly, to never know how to address it.
You don’t tell them that your father’s side is Italian and Hungarian. You know this is not what they want to know. You’re curious where people are from, too, so you don’t always mind when they ask—but you minded that one guy in high school who said, “What the fuck are you, anyway?”
New York Magazine
youthemAre Two Asians is a coincidence; three’s a fetish
look at me, can’t you tell?
Corina Zappia's personal essays and reviews have appeared in Salon, The Los Angeles Review of Books, The Rumpus, The Awl, The Stranger, The Hairpin, Nerve, and The Village Voice, where she was a staff writer. She graduated with an MFA from the Bennington Writing Seminars and now lives in Seattle.
Sometimes she thinks about reviving her blog, Zach Braff Deathwatch, but fears he will live forever. You can find her on Twitter: @corinazappia
More by this author
More in this series
Something unexpected cracks me open every year: Tonight, it was my daughter, recognizing the name I’d given her because I couldn’t give her the woman herself.
We’d denounce the marches and torches and chants. When that moment passed, we’d continue to live with the ghosts of our country’s peculiar legacy.