I think back to the tailgate: the man blowing cigar smoke in my face, the man who mockingly yelled, “Thanks for letting us use your name!”, the group who yelled at us to “go the fuck home,” the little waif who threatened to cut me, the dude who blew the train horn on his truck as I walked by the hood. I think of all of that, and I think back to O’Dell crying and trying desperately to get out of the room full of calm Natives. I thought she was crying because she was caught unawares and was afraid. But I realized that was her defense mechanism, and that by overly dramatizing her experience, she continued to trivialize ours. It was privilege in action. And as I realized these things, something else became incredibly clear: She knew she was wrong.
Blogs I Follow
- Stata tip: Doing something conditional on existence of a variable in the dataset, using a local
- Livres photos pour les bibliothèques, de International School of Ouagadougou (ISO)
- My Dad sends me to a Nigerian comedy web site… pretty good!
- Honey bees are essential for pollination karité trees in Burkina Faso
- Think twice before ordering your poulet grillé in Ouagadougou
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