“She had long, curly black hair, past her shoulders, not in braids like some other black women,” I said. Mr. Yao’s eyes bulged. “Wait a minute, she’s black?” he yelled. “I thought I told you not to rent to bad people!” My throat went dry. I could hear the sound of my breathing, hard and fast. “You said bad people, not black people.” “Any idiot knows—black people are dangerous,” Mr. Yao said.
