VOICES
AMONG THE FRAY By Layla Kennington
It is difficult to recall my first meeting with AB in any amount that exceeds a vignette. To be fair, my memories always turn fuzzy when any degree of alcohol is involved. That night we met in his favorite underground bar, Le Boudoir, a setting that teetered on the edge of cool and seedy. It wasn’t the sort of place you’re supposed to remember clearly the next day. My next few weeks of summer were to play out on and off the stage of Lan Kwai Fong, Hong Kong’s historic lane known for its bars and clubs that cater to expats, and he was to be my guide of sorts. I’ve always felt that there are three outcomes of two people of color meeting in a sea of those not like them. There is either outright elation, muted competition, or—as it was for
16 TUFTS OBSERVER OCTOBER 11, 2022
AB and I—a combination of the two. Both brown, college undergrads on a decaying velvet booth in the farthest corner of the room, our conversation flowed like a melody being played by one who doesn’t know all the notes yet. In a crescendo, there were moments that were achingly relatable, and we swapped stories of being brown in Hong Kong, coming out to parents as the firstborn child, and the politics of our respective American liberal arts colleges. And yet there were also times when a sour note was hit, and I would remember that I did not properly fit in this space. Sitting across from me was a graduate of Hong Kong International School, the premier school on the entire island, with students so rich that when I’d asked someone
what the school was like the only words I received were “rancidly privileged.” When this note was played, I’d be brought back to the fact that this man was testing me. Was I worth speaking to? Who were my parents? Did I have at least two passports? By the end of the night, some lie had eventually rolled off my tongue about having been to the same parties as Sasha Obama while in high school. Originally from Mumbai, India, AB spent his formative years—13 through 18—in Hong Kong. His understanding of self is intrinsically enmeshed with the city, his memories scattered across its red taxis, mountains, beaches, and crowded streets. The only time AB and I ever hung out in the daytime, we walked the contours of Wan Chai and he pointed out