Looking back, I can say that I am sure my parents did the very best they could. From this particular vantage point it appears unreasonable that I asked them for things beyond what they did their best to give, especially considering the ways I challenged their paradigms. But then I remember to cut my younger self some slack because she was only reacting to her lived experience, and because we both deserve it.
But the problem and privilege of appropriation and choice remain fecund and evergreen in my mind. Part machine, it frequently seems as if I can feel the gears laid down by history tick and creak around me.