I experienced bigotry in central Iowa. Let’s all stand against it. Opinion

Many of you know me from the Bondurant Farmer’s Market as the Cinnamon Roll lady, the strawberry rhubarb bar lady, the ooohhhh-it-smells-so-good-in-here-when-you-pass-my-tent-at-the-market lady.

I’d like to speak from my heart and see what folks feel is a good way forward. Please hear what I’m saying as what I’ve experienced in Bondurant. If you’ve met me, you know my heart, my character and my disposition. If you haven’t, I hope to meet you in the future. The cinnamon rolls really ARE that good!

I am not the “Black Pie Lady” as I was referred to at one of the evening markets. I’m Mary, the “Cinnamon Roll Lady who gives samples.” A mom to a blended family of five kiddos, corporate professional turned local baker, wife to a 17-year Army veteran (101st AA) and darn good cook! I am also a woman of color.

On Nov. 9 while serving breakfast, I had a customer shock me in a way I hadn’t expected. After making his purchases and taking part in the usual professional pleasantries, he said, “Hey, I’ve got a joke for you.” He then told me to get down, turn around and pick a bale of cotton. I asked him to repeat himself because — there is no way, right?! He then repeated it, said have a good day, and walked out of the shop.

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