Without a drink in my system, I got to see the inner workings of the bar scene, the ways white men took up space, jumping up and down on the dance floor, pushing and stepping on people, spilling their drinks on girls. The way they goaded each other and drank until they were puking on unsuspecting patrons. How they pulled out a joint in the middle of the dance floor with ease, only sometimes ripped from the crowd by a bouncer. How groups of white men schemed before sending one of their friends over to talk to the token woman of colour as the others laughed. Do you date white men? Where are you really from? I’ve never talked to a Black girl. I was repulsed by the swaying, glassy-eyed men who approached me, some of whom just stood in front of me, staring, smirking, leering.