Code-switching

Like, I just

want to say I'm like roughly a quarter black, but I, but I, I've honored, You know, this goes into the topic of code switching and where do we draw the line between where that is a survival skill and where it becomes a toxic trait.

Oh, yeah.

Because that, I think, is a more nuanced conversation.

I'll send you a podcast link.

I did one a couple years ago.

Code switching is considered a trauma response.

Right.

Today's dispatch describes Lolly flying the coop and the human desire to belong.

Please enjoy Code Switch.

I'm typing this from my room at The Graduate, a collegiate-themed hotel in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.

There's an indoor basketball court in the lobby and Tar Heel banners hanging from the rafters.

One last lingering coda of "The American shat his pants" faded into the distance.

This was the mythology of my youth, the polar opposite of the hero's journey, replete with all its classic shadow archetypes, the bully, the nurse, the tender mother, the ego, the shame, the self-loathing.

And this struggle became the story of my life, the incessant need to fit in, to be liked, to assimilate, to seek the approval of others, to base my identity in what other people think of me, and yes, to endlessly code switch.

My accent mimicry came to a head one day with my girls in Manhattan.

Oh.

Code switching.

Code switching.

Do code switching.

I mean, we can do code, code switching real quick.

Real quick.

Okay.

We get it.