“She’s such an adorable child,� an older white woman says from across the aisle. “Your sister?� I smile at Babygirl. “No, ma’am. My daughter.� The smile fades from her face but mine stays right where it is. I’ve met this kind of woman before. The kind with real strict ideas about what makes certain people respectable. The kind that gets sour-faced at learning Babygirl is my daughter, but who would have sympathy if I was of a paler complexion. The kind that looks at Angelica’s colorful hair and calls her ghetto under her breath, but thinks a white tween with purple cornrows is charming and
...more
