The other day at work, I had a routine interaction with a coworker that left me feeling unsettled. The woman is new to my organization, and we had an orientation meeting so I could provide an overview of the projects I work on that will overlap with hers.
They sit in their carseats, next to one another holding hands. The palest caucasion skin of anyone in the family, enfolding the brown hand of his Hispanic little brother. “Are they both yours?” The woman meeting us for the first time asks. “Yes,” I reply, but she wants more. “How did you get that black haired one?” “Same way I got the blond haired one.”