Photo courtesy of Lindi Von Mutius
There’s a look I get from black and biracial women. There’s a look I give black and biracial women. It’s a look of recognition that says: “I see you. You look like me. We share something no one else out here has. We’re the only ones like us out here.”
Last weekend, I was skiing and I got that look from a woman in the bathroom. A few minutes later, we bumped into each other – literally – in the lift line. We smiled broadly; a smile that turned into a cheerful laugh. “You are here. I see you.” We were the only two black women in the ski lodge or the lift that day.
There’s another look, often coupled with answers to delicate questions, that I give queer women. The other day after leaving the gym and waiting for the bus, a stranger asked, “Is that gym OK? Like, their bathrooms?”
I answered, “friendly for us; friendly for all identities.” We each knew exactly what the other meant.