I’d slip on a tight dress, nylons and heels and walk the seven blocks to his apartment. I washed his dishes; cleaned every inch of his counters; scrubbed the inside of his fridge, removing a moldy mess in one of the drawers. I cleaned everything I could find in his tiny bathroom. I did his laundry once a week at the laundromat across the street. I scratched a record of all my hours on a little yellow notepad with a broken pencil.
Author: Kella Hanna-Wayne
Kella Hanna-Wayne is the creator and writer for Yopp!, a social justice blog that connects education, critiques, calls to action and personal stories into one resource to lift up marginalized people and inform non-marginalized people on how to help them. For fun, she organizes and DJ’s at an Argentine tango dancing event in her hometown of Eugene, Oregon, bakes gluten-free masterpieces, sings loudly along with pop music and makes cat noises. You can find her on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.