“I can’t wake up and not be a black woman, Janet. I can’t walk into a room and not be a black woman, Janet. On the bus, on the Tube, at work, in the cafeteria. Loud, brash, sassy, angry, mouthy, confrontational, bitchy.” I listed off all of my usual descriptors on my fingers. “There are ones people think are nice, though: well-spoken, surprisingly intelligent, exotic. My favorite is sexy, I think? I guess I should be grateful for any attention at all.” My voice was getting hoarse.
