There is a very fine line between love and nausea.
My youngest uncle Randy and I were the first members of our entire family to ever go to college.
There is not enough magic in a bloodline to forge an instant, irrevocable bond.
So by the time I got to Michigan I was a stutterer. I couldn't talk. So my first year of school was my first mute year and then those mute years continued until I got to high school.
Writing can give full meaning to characters and avoid pure stereotype.
My grandmother though, began to prepare in her own neurotic - and I think psychotic - way to face racism. So she taught us to be racist, which is something I had to undo later when I got to Michigan, you know.