I thought long and hard before publishing this piece. Writing, sometimes, is the easiest part. But to share something personal, that is a source of pain and/or shame, makes hitting the “publish” button that much harder. But I hope that it serves to enlighten someone. Here it goes….
It was the 1990s. I was in my 20s, and part of a training class for a new job. There was a mix of us from all over — different backgrounds and races. The instructor was an older white man. One day, a group of us trainees decided to get together for drinks. We all went home and changed into casual clothes. Since it’s Florida and always hot, I threw on some shorts and cute mules (remember, it was the ’90s). I arrived at the bar and greeted everyone. I was surprised to see the instructor there, but carried on. He began making weird comments to me, and inquired of the male friend I was with (who I’d known for a long time through school) if we were sleeping together.
Sufficed to say we were all uncomfortable.
The next day in class, the instructor called on me and, in front of everyone, asked, “Isn’t it true you like to wear daisy dukes on your days off?”
I was mortified. The entire class gasped in horror.
Read the rest on Blavity here.