Transracial Adoption & Confronting My Own Biases
I walked into the lobby and pushed the arrow for the elevator.
The metal doors slid open and a black man was standing inside. He had baggy pants on, dreads and a flat-billed baseball hat.
Eyes wide, I quickly scanned the situation.
Is he grabbing his waist band? Does he have drugs on him? What about a gun? Or a knife? What’s he holding in his hand? Do I want to be stuck in an elevator with this man?
My mind raced. My heart nearly thumped out of my chest.
As the metal doors