Mercury is retrograde and I’ve decided the planets are to blame for the misery and misfortune I’ve been experiencing lately. On my way home from Memphis I raced to catch a train in Philly and not only did I show the conductor the wrong ticket, I left my laptop in the seat pocket before getting off at Lancaster. I was able to order a replacement that evening but exactly a week later my debit card was hacked and subsequently blocked. The next morning I woke up to discover that my aunt and her wife were killed instantly in a car crash. My cousin—not my aunt’s daughter—was notified by police in the middle of the night. She shared the sad news with everyone else and then later that same day, her beloved dog died of heart failure. I had two gigs booked in NYC so went ahead with those and decided to stop by the Apple store to have my phone’s battery replaced; they damaged it and so replaced the phone, which meant I had to activate my service but couldn’t do it online and had no phone to call support so spent a few days disconnected. Probably not a bad thing since I was with family in bitterly cold Ottawa for the weekend. When my sister, her partner Khalil, and I entered the church, we were told the blue seats were reserved for family. Yet when we tried to sit, the minister scurried over to tell us we could NOT sit in the reserved section. I assumed he thought three brown-skinned people weren’t family members but that wasn’t it; we weren’t children or grandchildren of the deceased. So we tried to sit in the closest pew and he told us we couldn’t sit there either. “Where do you want us—at the back of the church?” Khalil shushed me and we sat a few rows back, far from the rest of the (White) family. I was seething but it was my aunt’s funeral…one of my cousins came over and offered to switch seats with us and then my eldest female cousin came over and basically said, “F___ him. Sit in the front pew.” So we did, and two other cousins sat next to us; if he told us to move again, he’d have to ask them as well—two White women with little kids. And guess what? Even with us taking up most of the pew, there was enough room for everyone related to my aunt and her wife. I’m sorry that this incident is what I came home thinking about…but it typifies my experience in Canada, and in so-called “progressive” majority-White spaces filled with “good people.” It clearly didn’t cross that White queer minister’s mind that he was banishing the only people of color in the family. I saw two men of color in the choir but that was it—no racial diversity in this “welcoming,” “alternative” church. Sure, they sing to “Mother and Father God” and they welcome LGBTQ folks like my aunts, but the minister didn’t consider the weight of his actions (never mind the optics). I recently read a middle grade novel about a transracial adoptee and I wondered if it would find a wide audience. After all, how many Black girls could relate to scenarios that are specific to having a White family? All Black girls know what it’s like to be misjudged and mistreated, but generally your family understands racism and believes you since they’ve experienced it themselves. That’s often not the case when your family is White. When I entered the hotel lobby, a young woman of color offered to help me check in even though my cousin was already checking us in. It’s a small thing but you never know when it’s going to escalate, which means you’re always on guard. Overall it was great to spend time with my family and we talked a lot about the traits we hope to bury and not pass on to the next generation. I’m working on a poem and will eventually find a way to express my grief. Tomorrow I have a phone conference and then a local newscaster is coming by to film a feature for Black History Month. I just sent notes to my illustrator in Hong Kong who is using our book as a way to distract herself from the escalating political crisis. My agent is once again sending out the two stories I wrote about my Caribbean uncle learning to play hockey in the 1960s. A famous hockey sportscaster just lost his job for making anti-immigrant remarks on air and racism regularly shows up at Canada’s national pastime, but will that move editors to acquire my stories this time around? Time will tell. Thursday I leave for Baltimore and then the holidays begin. Looking forward to getting a Christmas tree and enjoying some solitary, silent nights…