A Question of Identity

A Question of Identity. "…by the time I walked to the plate in that softball game, I had built up a glittering yet utterly fragile structure of black iconography, all of which stood in nicely for my reality as an Asian kid without many friends who spent almost all his time worrying about debate tournaments and all the pretty, unattainable girls on the fast track to sorority row. I suppose that’s why my friend’s comment finally cut through, why it still lingers today. He kicked dirt over two distinct fantasies and made me stare down two very hard truths. The first…"