First there is the fear, constructed by years of being told there are safe boundaries for white people. Second there is the shame of recognizing those stories are racist lies, and of realizing that invisibility is not a virtue.
Ann Niedringhaus' poem begins: "In the midst of northern cold, self sufficiency / shrivels in washed-out light. / Outside, neighborhood children play boisterously. / Are they unpracticed in the art of worry?"