Luckily, I ain’t the lamest dude on the block and my black Air Force Ones are as neutral as kicks come, so I haven’t had much to run from lately.

Aboriginal girl. Stock photo and image.

After two years in New York city where I had been mistaken for a white man more times than I can count, I finally touched the earth in western Queensland.

“Doña Viviana?” Marlen asked, though no doubt existed that the ancient woman across the threshold was anyone but. Her brown skin wrinkled and spotted with age, her thinning white hair, pulled into a bun, showed her scalp.

We get the feeling that he is an old wise man type, having worked there for the longest time (by “not getting too many raises and keeping a low profile”).

Chen ayi stumbled out of an Uber at 2 A.M. in a lurid yellow parka, her dyed hair plastered to her forehead in oily streaks, dragging a Louis Vuitton luggage set in the rain. She stood in line behind the drunk herds of freshmen so I could check her in.