INDWYT
Storyboard Text
- I-you-you've lived her longer than me. I don't know the neighborhood.
- Cuz you ain't tried to. Exactly like ome rich, white b*tch moving in and trying to change the place instead of living in itlike it is!
- That doesn't make me rich, okay?
- I'm not rich.
- Please. Your daddy owns a store down Seventh, right?
- I might not walk around with a chip on my shoulder talking about how hard my life is, but that doesn't mean it's all rainbows and unicorns either.
- Sure, yeah. I'm crying for you. Daddy couldn't afford to buy you the newest iPhone, could he? Had to wait 'til all your friends already got on and you was the last. Boo-hoo, poor little, rich white girl.
- That's not true. That's an excuse for poor choices.
- I'm not rich Lena, and I can't help that I'm white. You don't get to blame me for something I can't control.
- You wanna repeat that?
- Why not, Becky? You people blame me for being born black every single day!
- What are you talking about?
- Never mind.
- You ain't walkin' away from that. Oh, hell, no. Is it a bad choice to get in an elevator? Or how 'bout walk into a store?
- You lucky you only said that to me. You say some racist nonsense like that to anyone else and they gonna beat yo a*s.
- I get in an elevator and people clutch they purses like I'm gonna steal from them. Why you think they do that, huh?
- Or how 'bout a store? You get followed around like you gonna take the whole store? No, you don't. You a rich white girl, and you ain't never gonna know what any of that's like, and let me tell you somethin' else.
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