Changing Room “Karen”
Or when shopping without my white husband’s privilege becomes a nightmare
We are nearing the end of the summer sales here, and I decided to go see if there were any good deals to be made. The store was quiet, and I was glad to have avoided the crowds. I picked up some nice dresses and went toward the changing rooms, relieved that they weren’t at all busy. I was going to try on all the clothes I fancied. That was until changing room “Karen” made her appearance.
At first, I heard a whiny female voice asking if a cubicle was empty. I figured it was two people outside having a conversation. To my surprise, an elderly white lady barged into my changing room and stood there looking at me. I was almost undressed and felt embarrassed. She continued staring at me, and I instinctively pulled one of the dresses around me. She grimaced and exited without apologizing.
I was taken aback by what had just happened. As I stood in the cubicle feeling humiliated, I could hear her commenting to her friend about my choice of lingerie and body-shaming me. I felt annoyed. I’d come all the way to the store to celebrate myself for getting a new job, so I decided not to let this woman’s behavior get to me. No matter how humiliated I felt, I vowed to get over it.
