He said that he had a daughter. One day he heard there was a shooting close to the San Francisco streets she played in daily. “So we moved,” he said. “To Dolores Park.”

“Oh, but why stay in San Francisco?” I asked. Because I wouldn’t raise my kids in San Francisco. For the lack of quality of education. For the lack of the playground I used to take for granted. For the lack of safety.

He looked at me, “I have a partner. I am gay. It’s just easier to stay in San Francisco.”

Almost at once, I felt embarrassed that I asked. But then it occurred to me that it was sad how we often had to stay in zones of comfort. For an easy life. That it’s easier not to be a minority.

While in Texas, I was sitting on the bus going out shopping. A man with a toothless grin mentioned how he liked something I was holding. I nodded and smiled, still somewhat lost in my thoughts.

“Do you speak English?” he asked.

I was slightly startled. If I was not Asian, would he asked the same question? Instead, I said in my Californian accent, “Yes, I speak English.”