She said, “You get to have it all Kish.” I did not believe her. I mean why would I? I had never had it all before. Those who came before me had not had it all. Deep in me, deep in the cells that formed brown skin was suffering. That is what I knew. Suffering. That I how I hurt. That is how I related. That is how I measured my worth. That is how I connected with you and the causes of the world. That is what I held out for the entire world to see. That is how I woke up and that is how I went to sleep. That is how I knew that I was alive at all, evidence that I could feel something, anything. Suffering as if all suffering was redemptive. Suffering as if I had to apologize for living, as if I had no right to be here.