Halves don’t actually exist.

[“Oh, so you’re half Latina? Oh, so you’re ½ feminine, ½ masculine? Oh, so you’re half white? Oh, so you’re….”]

I’m me. 

I’m not half anything. 

When I die and as I live, when you count my breathes, hold my hand, watch me cry, shit, laugh, fail, rise, love and birth children of magnanimous proportions, it’s all me. 

I’m not half anything. 

I’m whole, me. 

What’s a “box” identity you’re ready to let go of? Post in the comments, below. I’ll go first.  And tag a friend who could use this!