I Don't Want to Die Poor by Michael Arceneaux

Author:Michael Arceneaux
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2020-04-07T00:00:00+00:00

I LOVE INSTAGRAM. IT SOMETIMES MAKES ME WANT TO DIE.

I have developed a bit of a routine over the years. I’ve always been an early riser, but as I’ve gotten older (I’ve officially tipped into my mid-thirties, which is not technically old, but in gay years the age strongly suggests that I’m two Cardi B album releases away from needing a cane and a living will), I’ve started to wake up earlier than ever. So just about every single day of the week, whether I like it or not, I wake up around 6 a.m.

If it’s a weekday, I immediately turn on Morning Joe. During the second half of the Obama administration’s sequel, I told myself no one’s masochism should begin this early in the day, so I decided to end my suffering already and stop watching. Note that even though they were no longer part of my morning routine, I continued to hope that Joe and Mika would go ahead and get married already.

Then Sweet Potato Saddam was technically elected President of the United States. After tripping through the five stages of acceptance (I mean, white people gon’ white people), anger (okay, I’m still angry), bargaining (uh, I watched other people give Jill Stein money for that “recount,” if that counts), depression (I’m actually still depressed), and acceptance (he remains only white folks’ president as far as I’m concerned), I started watching Morning Joe again. Confirming old habits do indeed die hard, it continues to only take me about five minutes to become enraged by something said on that show. The likely culprits remain Joe Scarborough and Mike Barnicle, but you can add Donny Deutsch to the list.

I’ll stick it out to the eight o’clock hour, when they replay whatever it was that had me hit mute to begin with. Once I officially give myself some space from the daybreak punditry, I mute the TV again, grab my phone, and turn to Instagram as I start freshening up and getting ready for my day. People tend to assume I like Twitter the most because it’s the one I post the most frequently on. In actuality, if I weren’t a writer for the internet, I’d probably use Twitter the least. I’m a news junkie, so sure, the ability to glean the news cycle on Twitter is cool, but I could do without the pointless relationship-focused debates that are never-ending; and the rampant bigotry of far too many ghouls left free to roam and troll (both real and imagined by a Russian) because the tech bros fear the alt-right or lean their way and won’t explicitly admit such; and especially the people who may fancy themselves as activists but are nothing more than alarmists exploiting the works of others and the tragedies that push them to take action.

I’m tired from even conjuring up the bad spirits.

As part of the original group of Black Twitter users who made the service a thing and piqued the interests of white people in media who

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