Moving In

When the moving truck showed up at our new home in Davidson, an older white woman with a child in a stroller stopped, waited for us to come back outside from inside the house, and barked at us without so much as a simple ‘hello’: “Moving out, or moving in?” We said, “Moving in.” She walked away without saying a word. That was my first experience with what I now joke about as peak Lake Norman white women’s entitlement. To spaces, to places, to answers to their demanding questions. I knew we might not love the town after all even if we did just move here for my dream job. Because on moving day, we were made aware of our hypervisibility and undesirability