Perhaps there are unseen depths to the statement, “Don’t write about being white” [“What It Is,” by Reginald Dwayne Betts, March 2013]. As it stands, however, it looks like a remarkably shallow line to place on the back cover of your most recent issue. What, if I may ask, is the attraction to the constant devaluation of the white race? Are poems about being a member of another race intrinsically more valuable? Do white people — or is it Caucasians? — not possess an identity just as tangible and beautiful as those of others?