I don’t mean to complain, but life can be so hard. Sometimes, I just want to get away from it all and finally write that memoir about my white privilege.

People say writing is difficult, but how difficult can it really be? Certainly not any more difficult than oppressing people of color for thousands of years, that’s for sure. Look, I don’t mean to sound privileged, but it’s just a memoir, and as long as I remain truthful to my life devoid of racism, police brutality, and ethnic genocide, I think my story will figure itself out to guaranteed success.

But memoirs aren’t all rosy. Their pages are often filled with traumatic events that have defined the author. For me, it was all the countless times I witnessed my friends of color giving me angry looks when I’d crack a racially offensive joke. That scarred me, and I wish they’d possess the sensitivity to understand my pain of not being witty enough to come up with a less offensive joke. Look, Wengxiao — I also eat orange chicken, OK?

In our divided times, we need stories now more than ever, especially ones about white privilege. It’ll be tough, but I’m finally ready to tell the world about my pain of feeling invisible in the eyes of the TSA. I mean, can you imagine for just one second of your unprivileged and Islamically visible life, how that feels? Studies report that feeling invisible can lead to suicidal thoughts, and while I’m not here to blame minorities (I am), I want to let everyone by the name of Mohammed know that going through the security lines without anyone batting an eye takes a heavy toll on your self-esteem. Just like racial hate crimes, invisibility kills.

But this is the real kicker, the one doozy that always gets me fired up: I hate it when people keep telling me the same thing over and over again, like when I’m told to check my white privilege. I checked, and it’s a lot. But it still doesn’t change the fact that I have to do a double-take in the mirror every morning just to make sure. It’s not a fun experience and it kind of strains my neck. Honestly, I could be doing better things with my time, like golf.

I’m still workshopping it, but I think I’m going to call my memoir, A Life: How I Got to Where I Am Today by Oppressing People of Color For Thousands of Years.