Walking into a room, the murmur of the party dies and you know that they have seen you. The next sound is forks and spoons hitting plates; maybe a few mouths have dropped open silently. But I walk, I stand out like a Jack-O-Lantern at Christmas. My outline has become the sight line for the room. I am a bit too brown, unkempt, and underdressed. Still, you continue to move toward an empty booth. They don't want you here, but their courage does not match their energy. I will have my food, drink, and enjoy the entertainment.
The silence rings clearly; surprisingly, they accept me if I were brining in their food, clearing their plates, or pouring their tea or wine. But to be part of something more? To be equal? No, that is not acceptable. Well, the world has changed, if the old guard cannot share their world; then they will surely be swept away by the wave of equality that is due any day.
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