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S U R I - S I M O N E
Keep your head high, they say. Walk with pride, they say. Take nothing from no one, they say.
How can I do that effortlessly without someone making a crude statement about me?
"She's too dark." "She acts too black." "She doesn't represent the face of America well."
My brain recollected more and more of the same comments I'd receive on a daily basis whenever I tried to find the perfect modeling agency for me, as I sat in front of yet another bigot letting their personal thoughts flow from their thin lips without considering my feelings for once.
"Suri, may I just call you Simone?" The pale woman asked as she sat in her oversized chair that appeared to look as if it were engulfing her.
I shake my head. "Even though that is my middle name, I prefer you call me by my first."
She let a smirk spread across her face. Wicked Witch.
"–Okay, Suri. We appreciate you reaching out to our agency, I see from your portfolio that you've done a lot of amazing things. Forever twenty-one, American Eagle, Nordstrom, heck even New York Fashion Week, and all of which are great employers, but I think that you don't really appeal to the audience here at Vetements."
Doesn't surprise me any.
I scoffed and looked her in her green orbs, tilting my head to the side. "May I ask why do you feel that way?"
She leaned forward, clasping her scrawny fingers and sighed. "Well that's easy, it's because you're black."
...Take nothing from no one...
"I'm sorry, excuse me? You're denying me a position that I am overly qualified for because of my background? My skin color? You racist hag." I snapped, snatching my purse and portfolio from her desk, storming out before letting her mutter another syllable from her putrid mouth.
Angry and also disappointed, I let myself out of the downtown office of what could've possibly been a breakthrough position, and entered the busy streets of Rutherford Avenue. No one really paid attention to me as warm tears streamed down my face, disappearing into the creases of my hoodie as I wiped them away with the backs of my wrists.
It's a sad world to live in while being a person of color, or in my case, highly melanated. I grabbed the keys to the challenger parked on the street, and hopped in, driving across town to the townhome I shared with my sister; She's gonna flip when I tell her about this one.
