I was selling an apartment I had in Brooklyn, and the prospective buyers were a older white empty nester couple moving to NYC.

My agent was a white woman. I didn’t have a lot of personal objects in the apartment. So, they made an offer at the asking price. We had never met.

Then they scheduled a time to come with their decorator, and I happened to be home. Guess what happened next?

They contact my agent and said they wanted to make a new offer. I think it was $10K less (maybe $20K)

Only because they had met me, a young Black woman who owned the property. And, they couldn’t reconcile their valuation assigned to it, with my possession of it.

I told them, naturally, to kick rocks. And, about three months later sold it for $40K more. They bought another unit in the same building on a lower floor, with an obstructed view. Truly played themselves.

Anyway, I was able to buy a whole ass brownstone for what I sold that apartment for. . .

Then, years later, when I was moving, and renting it out to a French national and her husband, who were just moving to the US...

Her company was paying for the relocation, and again, they had viewed the property (and, brought their decorator - I had learned!) when I wasn’t home.

But, they came to sign the lease at the house one night ~8:00. I was still living there.

My agent got their early. We went over the paperwork. Then their broker arrived. So, we’re introduced in the kitchen. I’m wearing slippers.

My broker, a Black woman, goes back outside to the stoop to wait for the tenants. . . and, their agent turns to me and goes, “So, are you one of Mary’s other clients?”

Me:

Like, I was standing in the kitchen of my own brownstone in house shoes, at 8:00 at night, and dude could not process that it was my house.

lmaoooo all of which is to say. Race is not class