Before becoming a staff writer at The Huffington Post, Sarah enjoyed sharing her personal life stories on the platform as a blogger. Check it out …
I wrote this email after having a couple conversations with some straight White male friends who have little to no understanding of privilege and identity. I thought I’d share in case this is helpful to anyone else trying to start a “beginner’s” dialogue with friends who don’t quite get the gravity of Nov.
Valentine’s Day always makes me think about the first time I fell in love — because it was kinda gay. I fell in love with my soul mate at 14 years old. Yes, I’ve had multiple loves, but there will be no reliving the pure intensity and innocence of teenage infatuation.
Your teeth can say a lot about you. By first grade, all of my baby teeth had already been replaced by adult ones. My dentist told me I had a mature mouth. By fifth grade, when most kids were first getting their braces on, I was getting mine off.
Some girls think they look better with makeup, despite someone telling them “You look sooo much better bare.” For some, this might be true, but what if you are a swarthy-ish, middle eastern-ish, Jew-ish looking person (like yours truly) that grows hair in places ladies aren’t supposed to, has bad skin, and actually needs cover-up to not resemble someone going through puberty?
I am crazy (in the normal way). Let me just put it out there, it’s true. I am insane (in the normal way). I know we are all a little psycho (in the normal way), but me more than others (not in the normal way), okay?
It wasn’t until late into my first semester at UC Berkeley that I found the thing that would simultaneously scare me shitless, and define my entire college career — Cloyne Court Hotel. What is Cloyne, you ask?
A friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend showed me an ad they had seen on Craigslist titled “Seven Single White Jewish Males Looking to Host Seven Single Females for Shabbat Dinner.”
So I guess Craigslist is kinda my thing. How is it my thing? If you count completely furnishing a three-bedroom apartment entirely with stuff found off free Craigslist, responding to ads resulting in group dinners, taking rideshares all over the West Coast, buying/selling things, finding three roommates and a house off Craigslist, you might say, “it’s my thing.”
My family has a Saint Bernard. He is 150 pounds of pure joy. Racist joy. What? Ya. My dog is racist. Let me re-phrase that, my dog was racist. He was cured when the dog whisperer came over and told him what’s what.