I was dressed in my favorite vintage John Galliano yellow tulle dress, about to head out the door for a cocktail event at the Shoal Creek Country Club, when my black friend Audrey paid me a visit. She wanted to discuss Trump’s press conference, she asked for my opinion about his words “very fine people on both sides.” Naturally, I did what any gorl would do in this situation: I turned on the water works and made the situation all about me.
“Can I tell you this? I am so uncomfortable having this conversation. And that's what this woman said before this. Because I know what's in my heart. And I know that I don't think anyone is different, better, or worse based on the color of their skin. But I feel like there is nothing any of us can say right now without being judged.”
Audrey, in a firm but loving tone, acknowledged there have been a lot of tears (“I’ve seen better crying in a Gwynnie rom-com.”), that it’s a difficult place where we are (“You need to call your cousin Ivanka.”) (but Ivanka’s not my cousin!), that we can do this (“You need to come get your peoples.”), and we can have this conversation (“And your country club is racist as fuck.”).
One thing we both agreed on is that it’s okay if we cry having it. And Audrey has definitely had it.
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