I never heard anything from either of my parents that could be termed “prejudice.” My Dad was a YMCA boy, 50 yrs a member. He played handball three times weekly. Ergo, lots of time in the locker room. Mom used to ask us about our day each night at dinner. It must have been in the late 50s when Dad relayed that he had been propositioned that afternoon in the shower room. Both Mom and I became slack-jawed and silent. Finally, my mother asked what he said. I can remember his exact words all these years later. He said, “I thanked the gentleman and told him I was married, that’s all.” There was no violence, no judgment, nothing more than a kind and respectful response. Mom and I were very proud and not another word was ever spoken about it. My g’mother raised him to be both a gentleman and a gentle man. He endured a lot of stuff as a young West Indian man living in a very White world and he elected not to allow it to impact his life in negative ways. As he aged and lost much of his tell-tale hair, he looked more Spanish and life was much easier.