“I wouldn’t call that diverse.” She caught me with smug eyes. I looked down at my WHITE hands, and knew she was right. The word, “diverse,” stuck in the air, stranded between generations, mollified by affirmative action, silently accusing me of a skin color I had no control over.
Again, your daughter needs to get strong, and when the inquisitor says, “I wouldnt call that diverse” answer, “Really? Why not?”
Don’t let these pieces of crap Mau Mau you.