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I walk a lot.
I have a car, but sometimes, it’s nice to be able to look around you and see what’s out there.
I lived in New York City for about four years, so walking is no big deal.
Cat-calling is no big deal.
I was walking, today, in the Baltimore Inner Harbor. It was broad daylight. 2 p.m., or so. (function() {
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I was minding my business—I’m always minding my business.
I saw a boy—couldn’t have been more than 17—walking alongside me, but it really isn’t a big deal.
I call him a boy, because I’m almost 30, and anyone who is less than 25 I equate to be the same as my little brother; He’s 21 and to me, he’s still a kid.
A kid walking beside me isn’t a big deal because I’m used to being spoken to, or flirted with.
I don’t like it, but I’m used to it. I’m polite (if they are). I decline. I keep it movin’. Whatever.
I have my headphones in. The Carters are playing and I hear this kid saying something to me.
I think I hear him, but I’m not sure. My music is kinda loud, kinda not.
He says, “Do you suck d—k?”
Nah, he can’t be talking to me.
The post This Is How a Black Woman Unravels | The Root appeared first on KOLUMN.
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