15
SCAD
OCTOBER 30, 2010
The audience golf-clapped as the credits rolled.
My face flamed red, and I prayed it wasn’t visible beneath the layers of makeup. My hands were clasped behind my back in the sensible black dress I’d purchased for the evening. My feet encased in thousand-dollar shoes that I’d put on my mother’s card as a business expense. Not that she’d even noticed. I’d even gotten a blowout for my long black tresses.
And all I felt was humiliation as a pit opened in my stomach and I dropped into it. My film professor said a few words to me as the crowd filed briskly out of the theater. I barely heard what he said. The condescending tone that he’d been using with me all semester hit a fever pitch. I wanted to scream into his face and tell him that his misogynistic good old boy
