You wake up to a bright ray of sunlight streaming through your window. With one eye barely open, you check the time on your iPhone screen. There are still 30 minutes until your alarm rings.
You have an interview downtown today, and you're feeling jittery. You can't sleep and decide to use your extra 30 minutes to get ready.
[[Walk into your bathroom.]]
You look at yourself in the mirror. Your skin has cleared and your eyes look rested, but that hair. That beautiful dark brown hair.
You run your fingers through it, contemplating how you're going to style it for your interview. You could wear your natural, bouncy curls or you could opt for a sleek, straight style.
[[Wear your natural curls.]]
[[Straighten your hair.]]
You take a quick shower, wetting your hair to make it easier to style. After dousing it with mousse, you scrunch it and comb it until you're satisfied with the outcome. You smile at yourself in the mirror.
"Look good, feel good," you tell yourself. It's going to be a successful day.
[[Next.]]
{(set: $curly_hair to 'yes')}
You move the straightener through your dark hair, watching as the heat turns the curly strands silky and smooth. Once you're satisfied with the outcome, you smile at yourself in the mirror.
"Look good, feel good," you tell yourself. It's going to be a successful day.
[[Next.]]
{(set: $straight_hair to 'yes')}(if: $curly_hair is 'yes') [You walk into the office building and get onto the elevator to the sixth floor. A white woman is already in the elevator with you.
"Hi!" she says. "I don't think I've seen you in this building before. And I know everyone here. Are you new?"
"I'm here for an interview," you reply. "Maybe you'll see me more often in the future."
"Oh, that would be great!" she exclaims. "I love having new faces around. And you are so beautiful. I just love your hair — it's so curly!"
Before you can react, the woman's hand is moving towards you and grabbing your hair.
"I just love how curly hair feels," she says.
You aren't sure what to do. You despise people touching your hair, and the woman is being a little insensitive. But maybe she just doesn't know any better. Besides, maybe you shouldn't make a scene on the day of your interview.
] (else:)
[You walk into the office building and get onto the elevator to the sixth floor. A white woman is in the elevator with you.
"Hi!" she says. "I don't think I've seen you in this building before. And I know everyone here. Are you new?"
"I'm here for an interview," you reply. "Maybe you'll see me more often in the future."
"Oh, that would be great!" she exclaims. "I love having new faces around. And your hair is so beautiful and straight! Is it real?"
Before you can react, the woman's hand is moving towards you and grabbing your hair.
"Wow!" she says. "I didn't expect it to feel so soft!"
You aren't sure what to do. You despise people touching your hair, and the woman is being a little insensitive. But maybe she just doesn't know any better. Besides, maybe you shouldn't make a scene on the day of your interview.
]
[[Smile at the woman and ignore what just happened.]]
[[Tell the woman that you do not want her to touch your hair.]]
You give the woman a slight smile and say nothing else. The elevator feels like it's moving at half the speed it was before, and you're counting the hours until she exits.
Finally, the elevator stops at her floor and she leaves.
"Good luck on your interview!" she says, brightly. "I hope to see you again soon!"
You give her a nod and say nothing.
[[Exit the elevator at the sixth floor.]]You're usually pretty good at picking which battles to fight (after all, you have dozens every day), and today, you decide that a strange white woman touching your hair is going to be one of those battles.
With her fingers still on the strands of your hair, you jerk away from her.
"Excuse you!" you exclaim.
The woman looks taken aback.
"I...I...what's wr-wrong?" she asks, confused.
"I'd greatly appreciate it if you didn't touch my hair," you say to the woman. "It's *my* hair. And I don't know you! You don't have the right!"
The woman looks at you wide-eyed.
"I...I...I'm s-s-sorry," she stammers out. "I...I didn't mean to offend you."
You look at her one last time and turn away. The elevator stops at her floor, and she exits without another word.
[[Exit the elevator at the sixth floor.]] After one last quick check over your outfit, hair, and makeup, you find yourself satisfied with the result. Sometimes, it's hard to feel confident — you know you don't fit conventional (*ahem* European) beauty standards — but today, is not one of those days. Today, you're ready to take on first: this interview and next: the world.
You gather your extra resumes, interview notes, and business cards and toss them into your briefcase. With that, you open and close the front door behind you and begin your short walk to the nearest Metro station.
It's a beautiful morning — not too hot, not too cold. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and Washington, D.C. is buzzing with life.
As you move along the sidewalk, you see a white man ahead, walking towards you. He looks to be about your age and is dressed as professionally as you are. The sidewalk is a bit more narrow on this part of the street, but there's definitely enough space for the both of you to pass each other — if only he would move slightly to the right.
As you approach each other, you realize the man isn't going to move over and give you space to walk by him without you a) stopping and waiting for him to pass or b) you stepping down into the street.
"This happens far too often," you think to yourself.
[[Step down and walk in the street to pass him. Clearly he isn't going to move.]]
[[Refuse to move and bump into him. You have as much of a right to be on this sidewalk as he does!]]
As you approach the man, you step down into the street so that he can pass without the two of you bumping into each other.
He doesn't acknowledge you or your actions. You might as well have been invisible.
As you continue walking to the Metro station, you feel ashamed and annoyed — and even a little angry. You hate that you relegated yourself to being less of a human than the man. You resent that he put you in that position.
Then again, these things happen all of the time. It wasn't the first, and it won't be the last. You push your feelings into the back of your brain, and refocus on getting to your interview.
[[Take the escalator down to the Metro station.]]As you approach the man, you stand your ground, refusing to move from your space on the sidewalk. When you pass each other, you roughly bump each others' shoulders.
He scoffs and gives you a nasty look but otherwise says nothing. What could he say? *He* should have given you the space to pass.
You smile to yourself as you walk the rest of the way to the Metro station. You are a strong woman, and no one is going to run over you — especially the white people who don't move over on the sidewalk.
[[Take the escalator down to the Metro station.]]You stand on the platform, waiting the six minutes for the next train that will whisk you away to the office building. The station is, surprisingly, not as crowded as you would have expected. Then again, it's past peak hours so really, the only people here are tourists and stragglers.
You see a black man walking towards you. He looks to be in his late 50s or early 60s, and he's desperately in need of some grooming. You look down at your phone and don't pay him any mind — if there's one thing you've learned from living in the city, it's make eye contact with and speak to as few people as possible.
"Heyyyy, honey!" the man says as he passes you. "You sho are lookin' good today, beautiful!"
[[Continue to ignore him, staring at your phone.]]
[[Smile weakly and mumble "Thank you."]]You continue to stare at your phone and hope the man passes you quickly without saying another word.
"Mama, did you hear me?" he says to you. "I SAID you are looking mighty fine today."
You can hear the increasing aggression in his voice, but you don't dare look at him.
"Fine. Stuck-up bitch," he says. "Just trying to give you a compliment, damn. These black bitches these days can't take no compliments."
Luckily, you see the headlights from the Metro at the other end of the tunnel and thank God for your saving grace.
[[Take the Metro to the office's stop.]]You feel disgusted by the man's catcalling, but you hate to think what could happen if you ignore him entirely. You make eye contact with him and give him a half smile.
"Thank you," you say quietly, attempting to hide as much emotion as possible.
"You're welcome sweetheart," the man says. "You have a nice day. Hope to see your pretty self around here again."
With that, you turn back to your phone. Once the man has moved further down the platform, you sigh with relief. That could have gone much worse, you think to yourself.
You see the headlights of the Metro from the other end of the tunnel and hear its horn announcing its arrival.
[[Take the Metro to the office's stop.]] The Metro car is relatively empty, so you pick a seat in a row by yourself, fire up a podcast on Spotify, and relax.
You watch as the train passes quickly through the stops, with people constantly entering and exiting. Even as the car fills, the seat next to you remains empty.
You're always confused why people never want to sit next to you on public transporation. You look friendly enough — or at least you think so? Maybe people are just intimidated by you as a black woman. After all, all black women are the same to some.
The train comes to a halt at your stop and you step onto the platform. You walk up the escalators, scan your SmarTrip card, and exit the station onto the downtown streets.
You double-check the address and start walking in the direction of the office building.
[[Walk into the office building.]]''*the white people who don't move over on the sidewalk*'' is a game about black women created by a black woman for everyone who does not identify as a black woman.
Black women face unique struggles that are often unbeknownst to those who are non-black and those who identify as male. The goal of this interactive fiction is to place the player in the shoes of an unfamiliar identity. As you head to a job interview, you will be forced to make decisions that you may never have considered to be significant — yet ones that black women think about constantly.
This game is intended to be a learning experience and a lesson in empathy. Once you have concluded the game, it is encouraged that you play again. Doing so allows you to make different decisions and recognize the differing consequences that each choice has.
To the black women playing this game: You might see yourself in it. I see you. You are doing great.
[[Begin.]]
<img src="https://alexisgravely.files.wordpress.com/2019/04/img_6719.jpg?resize=219%2C219" alt="four black women" />The doors to the elevator slide open, and you step into a beautifully sunlit lobby. A young, white woman is sitting at the front desk, typing quickly on her desktop computer. She doesn't look up when you first step into the office, but she seems to notice you as you walk towards the desk.
"Good morning!" she says, cheerfully. "How may I help you?"
You explain that you have an interview in 15 minutes. She dials a few numbers, has a few brief conversations, and finally, points you to a chair to wait.
"The supervisor will come get you shortly!" she says. "Best of luck!"
You've barely had a chance to review your talking points when a middle-aged white man strides into the lobby. You stand as he reaches for your hand.
"Good morning!" he exclaims. "Great to meet you! My team and I are excited to talk to you this morning. Follow me!"
[[Follow the supervisor to the conference room.]]You follow the supervisor as he guides you through the office. The two of you finally reach a conference room. There are already three other people seated at the table — two white women and a white man. You begin to wonder if everyone in this office is white.
"Have a seat!" the supervisor says. "Let's get to know you! I have to say, your resume is surprisingly impressive."
You can't decide whether his comment is genuine or a microaggression, but you choose to ignore it. The supervisor and his team ask you questions about your previous experiences and your future goals. You speak fluidly and emphasize everything you planned to discuss. The interview couldn't be going any smoother.
"I have one final question for you," the supervisor says. "Because of a changing society, our company is working to become more culturally aware. Should we choose to hire you, would you be interested in starting and chairing a diversity committee?"
You should have seen this coming. All of the signs were there. You would join the company and become the overworked, underpaid, token minority. A diversity committee? Do diversity committees even work?
You take a breath and say:
[["I'd love to be in charge of creating a more culturally aware space."]]
[["Would there be any additional compensation for this responsibility?"]]"I'd love to be in charge of creating a more culturally aware space," you reply.
The supervisor beams.
"Excellent!" he says. "We always love to see prospective employees who are eager to make an impact! Do you have any questions for us?"
You ask the group your prepared questions and listen to their responses. When the interview concludes, you smile, shake everyone's hands, and walk back to the elevator. The supervisor says you'll hear from him by the end of the week.
As the elevator doors close, you breathe a sigh of relief. Not bad.
[[Continue.]]
{(set: $diversity to 'yes')}
"Would there be any additional compensation for this responsibility?" you ask. It is not your job to fix white people, and it is definitely not your job to fix them for free.
The supervisor looks taken aback by your question.
"Uh, well, no." he says. "We, uh, see things like this as a part of your contribution to our positive workplace climate."
You pause and think about his answer.
"I see," you finally say. "Well, thank you for believing that I would be a good chairwoman for the committee, but if I were hired, I would have to decline for now. At least until I'm more familiar with the office and the company."
The supervisor's face looks confused and annoyed. You can tell he isn't pleased with your response.
"Do you have any questions for us?" he asks.
You ask the group your prepared questions and listen to their responses. When the interview concludes, you smile, shake everyone's hands, and walk back to the elevator. The supervisor says you'll hear from him by the end of the week.
As the elevator doors close, you breathe a sigh of relief. Not bad.
[[Continue.]]
{(set: $no_diversity to 'yes')}(if: $curly_hair is 'yes' and $diversity is 'yes')[Three days later, you open your email inbox to a message from the supervisor.
"We are thrilled to offer you the position at our company, and we look forward to working with you!" the email reads.
"Yes!" you exclaim. "I got the job!"
However, as you continue reading, you reach a sentence that causes concern.
"We must emphasize, however, that when you are a member of our team, you must adhere to professional standards of dress. This includes hairstyles. Your hairstyle, as is, will not be deemed acceptable."
Your face falls. Even when you win, you lose.]
(if: $straight_hair is 'yes' and $diversity is 'yes')[Three days later, you open your email inbox to a message from the supervisor.
"We are thrilled to offer you the position at our company, and we look forward to working with you!" the email reads.
"Yes!" you exclaim. "I got the job!"
You sit back and reflect on your accomplishment. Suddenly, you realize how much of your blackness you had to suppress in order to get this job. You straightened your hair because you knew it would be more appealing. You offered to help your white coworkers become more "culturally sensitive" by starting a diversity committee. You feel like it's a white world, and you're just living in it.
Your face falls. Even when you win, you lose.]
(if: $no_diversity is 'yes')[Three days later, you open your email inbox to a message from the supervisor.
"We regret to inform you that we cannot offer you the position at this time," the email reads. "While your qualifications were impressive, your unwillingness to be a team player was telling."
You reread the sentence over and over, shocked. Unwillingness to be a team player? Because you said you wouldn't take on an extra responsibility — that is not even your responsibility — for free? Because you stood up for yourself and your dignity?
Even when you win, you lose.
But, you decide that you don't regret your decision. You are proud of yourself for not sacrificing who you are.]