Re-Race

Samantha Steiner

Cassandra is not just Black, but that’s one thing about her that feels good to know. Centuries ago her family lived in Ghana, but Cassandra herself was born in Italy. She has lived in the United States for seventy years now, and has spent twenty of them with her partner, whose name is Ro, who is also Black, and who discarded gendered pronouns a long time ago.

Cassandra teaches a class of fifteen children at a public high school in the Bronx. She gets paid well for her work, receives excellent healthcare, and walks home at night without pepper spray but with her purse swinging from her shoulder. She unlocks the front door and finds Ro on the couch, knitting. She gives Ro a peck on the cheek.

“Stir fry for dinner?” Cassandra asks.

“Stir fry for dinner,” Ro agrees. “A little bit of this, a little bit of that.”

Ro pulls ingredients out of the fridge and sets them on the counter. Cassandra pulls ingredients out of the pantry and sets them on the counter.

Ro heats a skillet on the stove top and adds some oil. Cassandra chops orange bell pepper. Ro chops onion. Cassandra cries at the onion. Ro wipes Cassandra’s face with the pad of their thumb.

“Don’t cry, Cass,” Ro says. “We’re in a re-race society.”

At the most minuscule misfortunes, they remind each other of this truth. Not post-race, but re-race. Their lives matter.