Last night when a young woman bursting with enthusiasm asked for my supervisor, I knew she wanted to know if our location was hiring. She had glowing skin, and a smile glossed with naivete. She reminded me of my little sister. I’m sure underneath it all was a great personality. But I knew my manager would size her up based on appearance. It’s the nature of the retail world.

This woman probably deserved a chance. But I knew with one glance, that she wouldn’t be given the opportunity. She was wearing a form fitting black half shirt with skin tight jeans, her waist length weave crowned with a pink head band full of hot pink flowers. It just wasn’t the “appropriate” attire to wear while inquiring about a job position. At least not in this society. And it saddened me.

It hurt because I see young women like her all the time that just don’t know any better. And it hurt even more to see a woman that looked like me miss out because she probably never had someone tell her something as simple as how to dress for business related occasions. She wasn’t there for an interview, but the point is she would never have one based on that first introduction.

It made me angry because I knew that before she even opened her mouth, she could’ve easily been viewed as what a lot of people would call a “thot” or “hood”. When so many customers stop by dressed in a similar fashion just to shoplift, it made angry that she fit a profile, and angry because a profile exists in general. Anyone could steal.

But what’s more dissapointing is that she probably didn’t have a strong enough bond with her parents, or any caretaker for that matter to share that she was headed out to job hunt. No one to help her prepare. No one to throw in a few suggestions that could’ve made the difference in her finding a job before the weather drifts from hot to cold.

I should’ve pulled her to the side and said “Hey, why don’t you come back in, and I’ll give you a few tips on how to get your application noticed. You should wear this…”

But I didn’t. And that’s the slither of guilt that I had to take home. She went home most likely feeling hopeful, but will wonder in a few weeks why she’s not getting the responses she wants in an attempt to better herself. One of hundreds of city girls.

Those hundreds of girls are our little sisters. They’re not “basic” and they’re not “thots”, they’re the future, and they need guidance. Sometimes big sisters have to step in when absent mothers leave a void. That’s what big sisters are for. Next time I’ll say something.

Update: I saw her again! Read Part II Here

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Laik
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