“Is that something you’ve faced working in politics?”

“Oh, certainly. I’m used to being one of the only in many of the circles where I’ve served the last two decades. And the microaggressions are many and never stop. The awkward questions about my hair, people touching it without my permission. Those things are unacceptable, but practices like these cited by the women who worked for Mr. Colson? Those affect our pocketbooks and how far we can go, not based on our performance, but based on something as superficial as our hair.”

“Several of the women indicated managers told them their hairstyle was ‘too black,’” Chelle says. “What do you say to that?”

“I think comments like those, expectations like those, are the reason we need legislation like the CROWN Act.”

“And for those who may not know, what’s the CROWN Act?”

“It’s legislation designed to combat discrimination against people of color for wearing natural or protective hairstyles. This is a form of racial injustice with measurable economic consequences. CROWN stands for Create a Respectful and Open Workplace for Natural Hair.”

“California was the first state to pass it, right?”

“Yes, and other states have followed. Hopefully, at some point, we’ll have federal legislation. Too many of us are working in environments where just being who we are goes against some written or unwritten company policy. Simply being myself is an act of resistance.” I tsk. “But I must say it is discouraging to hear that someone running for governor perpetuated these practices. We need leaders who represent all people and respect the traditions and customs of all their voters, not just those who look like them.”

I stare into the camera and hope Colson, Ruiz, and that damn Anthony are all watching.

“For black and brown girls, the world is full of sharp edges, and with every step forward, we risk being cut,” I say. “We have enough to worry about. Our hair shouldn’t be a hazard. Our hair shouldn’t be an impediment to success. We need candidates who understand that. Who understand us. I hope the state of Georgia has other candidates to choose from. Someone besides Mr. Colson.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Four

Ezra

I’m covering a steaming pot of pho when the doorbell rings. Probably Kimba. She texted from the Uber fifteen minutes ago. When I open the door, I can barely restrain myself from kissing her right on the porch. She’s still wearing the blue jumpsuit from the CNN spot. Her hair is huge, coiling all around her beautiful face in a careful chaos. Her makeup is flawless, and that is the first thing I want to change. Getting her out of her clothes is the second.

I tug her in, close the door and cage her against it right away.