*Last summer, Ms. Washington and I were fortunate enough to take a workshop at the renowned Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, MA. The following essay, which originally appeared in the North Star News, was inspired by Ms. Washington’s observations of Provincetown; a very unique arts colony and gay summer retreat. To read this essay in its entirety, click on the North Star News link below.
Provincetown is about the only place I’ll buy a white man a drink.
I need a break after my writing workshop, so Monday night I go to a drag show with my friend Octavia, and we’re standing in line. Early. Too early she says. We’re second. She wants a soda or something, so we flag down this cute brother who’s working there and he says stay in line because the rush is about to start. Sure enough twenty-five white guys get in line within the next five minutes. Then more, and more, until there’s a line out to Commercial Street.
I turn to Octavia and smugly say, “Aren’t you glad we didn’t leave to get that soda?” As soon as I finish my sentence six white boys walk up to the front of the line to cut. I’m as hot as fish grease! I have my Black women’s hair issues standing in line in all that humidity, losing my curls and now these white boys.....