Dawson Johnson
Although she is a Black woman in a room full of other young Black women, she feels awkward because in the past, she was made to feel as if her disposition was excessive. Just when she’d grown legs long enough to explore the whole of her being, her body was cramped into a square chalked right beside the welcome mat. Beside her, standing just as tall (if not taller), sprung a picketed sign that read, BEWARE / Do Not Leave This Space. And though the sign lacked specificity of what, exactly, she should have been wary, she stood dutifully in place, never pushing her foot past any of the square’s edges.
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