Ana was my neighbor in Brooklyn. When I first met her, I thought she was sweet and mellow. She casually mentioned she was a musician when I asked her what she did. And I was like, “Uh huh, sure you are,” because I tend to be judgmental like that. But, then one weekend when I was having a brunch, I asked her to bring up her guitar from her apartment and play a few songs. I was a goner at that point. My heart exploded and there was no turning back.
It's Complicated: White Women, White Men & White Supremacy