It was in a white man's house when I was first asked to make tea for people. The request itself would not have been weird, were it not for the little fact that I was a first-time visitor who had only met the host a few minutes prior. We were many, I was the only black woman present, and I would hope you understand why the proverbial chip on the shoulder came alive for me; I am a black woman, used to hearing that our place is in the kitchen.
I told him I had a bad cold. I did not make the tea, and one of the white men ended up making the tea. The first clue that I had misinterpreted the whole thing was when they did not take offence over my refusal - it was shrugged off. Also, the black man, one I had met a couple of times before, was giggling and shaking his head knowingly at me. Later, he would tell me that he knew why I had refused to make the tea.