I’ve been thinking about these neighborhood tea parties, you know, now that I have all this time on my hands, and it’s just… it’s a thing that really gets under my skin. Like, when we first moved here, I was genuinely EXCITED. New faces, new connections, a chance to really embed myself in this community. I've always been good at that, you know, office politics, making sure my team felt heard, even if I disagreed. I thought it would be a breeze, just a different kind of networking, honestly. And for a while, it was fine. Everyone was so welcoming, lots of smiles, asking about my family, where I came from. And then, it started. "Oh, you're from [my country], right? My neighbor said you make the most AMAZING [traditional dish]!" Or "Could you tell me how you get the spice blend JUST right for that [another traditional dish]? I just can't seem to replicate it." And I'd dutifully explain, like a good little cultural ambassador, you know? Measuring spoons, fresh ingredients, the whole nine yards. I even brought in samples, thinking, "This is it! This is my 'in'!" But it NEVER went beyond the kitchen. Never. Not once did anyone say, "So, what did you do before you retired?" or "What are your thoughts on the local school board election?" or even, god forbid, "How are you REALLY doing?" It was always about the food. Like I was a walking, talking recipe book, or maybe a quaint foreign exhibit. My entire life, my career, my thoughts, my opinions – all reduced to a curry recipe or the secret to perfect flatbread. It was exhausting, honestly, always feeling like I was being asked to perform, to represent something, rather than just… be myself. It was like those performance reviews where you hit all your metrics but you KNOW you're not getting that promotion because you don't 'fit the culture.' And the worst part is, I let it happen. I'd come home after those tea parties feeling this deep, quiet irritation, but I'd just brush it off. "They mean well," I'd tell myself. "They're just curious." But it wasn't curiosity, not really. It was… a kind of superficial inclusion, a way to tick a box without actually doing the work of getting to know someone. It was like they wanted the IDEA of a diverse friend, but not the actual complexities that come with it. And I, for so long, just kept serving up the answers, hoping that if I just gave them enough recipes, they'd eventually ask about my life. But they never did. And now, I just don't go anymore. I make my own tea, and sometimes, I just sit and stare out the window, wondering why I ever thought it would be different.