Me, in the car, with my 15-year-old daughter, who is, of course, bi-racial (her descriptor), in the passenger seat. Hip-hop is on the radio. I break into a very cool dance-while-driving.

My daughter: Dad, please.

Me: I can’t help it. I was born with the rhythm in me.

My daughter: Dad, please.

Me: All us white boys are.

My daughter; Dad, please!

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