Slipping through the Cracks
I was recently visiting a local organization at which a membership card must be scanned upon entering the building. I walked in at the same time as a Latin@ family who were stopped at the entrance and carefully checked one by one. I slipped by in my high heels, skirt, and white skin and made my way to the room where I was giving a presentation without question. I’m white; I’m invisible; I’m background noise.
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