At 18, I was fixated on being attractive to them. Tap here to turn on desktop notifications to get the news sent straight to you.
Like most of the girls in my class, I wanted attention from the boys. Even more hurtful was the night he and I were standing outside a bar in Bushwick and someone we both knew started making racist comments. At 18, I was fixated on being attractive to them. On election night, I thought about all those moments, and I felt overwhelmed at the possibility of taking that on over the next four years. The white boys I grew up with were cool: I hover near a person I think is cute and try to slowly make my way over to him so we get in the same car. But the less work I have to do to make him understand how I feel, the better chance I have of getting through the next four years with my head still on.