I was frustrated; at the situation, at myself and at the girl for flour bombing me. I couldn’t stop myself from screaming, “This is a fucking designer coat you bitch.”
By the time I managed to open my eyes, I saw two young girls standing with their phones out and laughing. When they saw me staring right at them, they immediately took off on their heels. I let out another frustrated growl and dug through my bag until I found my keys. I slammed my door harder than necessary and started the drive back to my office.
When I walked in through the door to my office, I heard audible gasps. Everyone knew better than to speak to me, so they just whispered amongst themselves.
I ignored the stares and made my way into the bathroom to see how bad I looked. Flour was embedded into my hair and over my entire face. My black coat had flour over it and even my nude shirt and jeans were not spared. I inhaled deeply and washed away the flour off my face but left the rest on my clothes.
By the time I made it back to my office, Marissa was standing by my door gripping her phone in her left hand.
“Are you okay?” her voice was soft; almost as if she was afraid I was going to lash out at her.
I counted to ten backwards before responding, “I’m fine; I just want to get all my work done and get out.”
“I just wanted to ask if you were still going to do you session with Nathan. I could tell him to cancel.”
“No,” I cut her off, “Send him in.”
She looked surprised but nodded and scurried off.
I was clearing up my desk when Nathan walked into my office. He raised a brow at the flour still coating my clothes but didn’t say anything until after the cameras were done being set up.
“I never would have thought that you would sit in flour for much longer than necessary,” he said as he sat down opposite me, “I can wait for you to get cleaned up.”
“I’m not cleaning up. They wanted to see flour on me so they will.”
He was surprised by my words, that much was certain. But then the corner of his lips lifted in a half grin.
“That is a statement I can stand behind.” He cleared his throat and leaned back into his chair, “What happened today?”
“I got flour bombed over a story that has zero evidence and credibility.” I crossed my hands over my chest, “You know, I wonder if he is getting flour bombed too, or if I am the only object of the public’s ire.”
“I think we both know the answer to that.” Unfortunately. He cleared his throat before continuing, “How do you feel about it?”
I paused to think deep about my next words. I’m pissed, but not at the fact that I was flour bombed. I am pissed at the situation, but most of all I am disappointed that everyone is so quick to point fingers at me- the woman.
Everyone is so quick to call me a whore and a home wrecker when I didn’t even do anything. And even if I did, why aren’t they blaming him?
“I have been picked apart by the media, and I have had insults hurled at me from across the street but I have never been flour bombed in my life.” I began, “It was humiliating, especially because it is over something I did not do.”
“What happened to innocent until proven guilty? There was no evidence to the claims and everyone is so quick to point fingers atme. It’s like they forget that I am a person too. I’m not just an object for you to pour out your frustrations on. And best believe that I have more self respect in my body than to settle for being the other woman.”
Nathan was quiet for a long time after I had finished speaking. He had an indescribable look in his eyes; something akin to pride but not exactly there. I expected him to probe more about the situation but instead he cleared his throat and opened his book.
He flipped through the pages and finally landed one, “Tell me about your childhood. Nobody really knows a lot about young Adira or how you decided you were going to begin this.”
The truth is, nobody has ever thought to ask, so I have actually never had to respond.
“I was always into fashion growing up. My mum would say that I always liked to dress myself from a young age. Fashion was my way of expressing myself and how I was feeling. When I got to high school, it helped me fit in and be popular and unfortunately that was what was most important to me at that age.”
“What do you mean?”
“For starters, I was one of the only two black girls in the school and I hated standing out when I was younger, so I would try to dress like the girls and do my hair like them. It was almost like I was trying to be them. For a while, I was ashamed to be black because that was the only thing that separated me from them.”
The last part was very hard to admit. I hated thinking about my high school days. My parents actually began to worry for me. I hated it when my dad would speak Yoruba to me and I out rightly refused to learn the language which is one of my biggest regrets right now.
I would straighten my hair so that I could look like them. I spoke like them and even let them get away with a lot of racist shit that they shouldn’t have; all because I just wanted to be liked.
Nathan looked genuinely interested by the conversation, “What changed?”
