And this may be my real issue: that I can’t sit comfortably at the top of the caste system I’d worked so hard to conquer and just enjoy it. I hit all the goalposts. I have all the right schools and corporations on my resume. I live in the right house, in a decent neighborhood. I’ve been thin enough; my hair has been long enough; and I’ve lived in the Instagram light of contour as my successful (white) boyfriends pay for my (terrible) IPAs at the ballpark as I make sure to overtip the Black and Brown servers, wondering how it’s gotten to the point where I, too, need absolution. I’ve “made it,” but sometimes wonder, what’s the point?