We stand outside in the heat. We swat at the occasional persistent mosquito. We try to ignore the sweat beading down our foreheads and the backs of our necks. We retreat to the deepest recesses of shade we can find. We wish for a hint of a wisp of a smidgen of a breeze. We hold court on life and love. We laugh and tease and are determined to have a good time. We could be in Atlanta or Austin or Anytown, USA.
We pretend that we’re not afraid.
We are afraid, though. Our fear is legitimate: Some people hate us. And some of them are armed and dangerous.
We laughingly chat about how our mothers have implored us not to come here. We are grown women, yet we’ve each had a conversation with our mom in which she’s told us that we should stay away and stay safe.
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