What Being a Black American in Cape Town Taught Me About Privilege


I promise it’s not hyperbole when I tell you I have never seen a city as beautiful as Cape Town, South Africa. Staggering cliffs. Roaring oceans. Vineyards that look carved from the Garden of Eden and canyons so vast it seemed they were invented so the sun would have a reason to set.

When I was in the airport lounge on my way back – because this is a story about privilege, so of course I had access to the lounge – a white man saw my bright blue box braids and my skin browned by weeks of adventure and came one second short of realizing I didn’t work there. He fixed his mouth to ask me a question.

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