A Dash of Paprika

The white woman’s potato salad is the butt of every Black family’s Thanksgiving jokes.

Last year was rough.

Stammering “A-A-Allison” to blank stares. Realizing Darren never bothered to mention me before I invited myself to dinner. His Nana asking if I’m only there because my parents disowned me.

“I don’t see them because they live in Utah. Not because my fiancé’s Black.”

This year I come bearing the gift of an old family recipe, hoping for Nana’s blessing.

When her eyes widen, I think I have it. But almost immediately she’s gasping for air.

Apparently, Nana is allergic to paprika.

Let me know I'm not talking to myself.

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