I’ve always squinted in bright light. Family snapshots show a scrawny kid with a face like a scrunchy. With my almond, half-closed eyes, kids taunted me with a certain racial slur. It hurt. I wanted to hide, to disappear. Then, one Halloween, my harried mother, with three boys to outfit, acquired an armful of hand-me-down costumes. Score! The only one that fit me was that of a Chinese coolie. (Yes, people used that term back then.) I howled. I cried. I refused to wear it. I missed the school party and missed trick-or-treat. To this day, I can’t stand dress-up.
Inspired by Bears in the Closet and the Corpse’s recent Halloween theme. Image from an article by Nevin Coyne.
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