Tomorrow I get to go to a mandatory day-long diversity training. Joy. I don’t object to the concept of diversity training. I’ve been in enough situations to know that some people are absolutely clueless about how to interact with people of diverse backgrounds. But I don’t think you can teach diversity in a classroom setting. It needs to be an integral part of the workplace; part of everyday life. And if you insist on teaching it as a class, at least teach it in the context of the experiences of the audience. I work with people of different ethnicities, religions, disabilities, and sexual preferences. So my starting point is a little different than another person’s.
Looks like I’ll be in Miami March 24-30. I honestly can’t wait. I’ll be curious to check out some of the clubs in South Beach. I don’t often go clubbing because it’s impossible for me to make myself heard above the music, but it could be fun just to sit at a table and observe everyone else. And you never know what will happen. A couple years ago, I took a couple of out-of-town friends to a club in the Warehouse District called the Gay 90’s. It’s a gay nightclub that has been completely co-opted by us heteros. My friends are dancing and I’m sitting off to the side, minding my own business, when this very petite, very attractive woman starts dancing in front of me. Dancing may not be the most appropriate word. More like gyrating against me. It was so loud on the dancefoor that I couldn’t even ask for her name. I just bobbed my head to the music and smiled like an idiot. I so wanted to get her number, but I lost her in the crowd. Ah well, c’est la vie.
