I was holding my crying baby on a packed flight when the flight attendant looked me in the eyes, told me “you people” need to control your children, and slapped me across the face.
“Part 1The air in the terminal at Hartsfield-Jackson was thick with the smell of Cinnabon and recycled anxiety. I’d been up since 4 a.m. Mason, my six-month-old, was a warm, fussy weight against my chest, his little face flushed from teething. I’m Angela Carter, I’m 28, and I’m a single mom. In this world, that’s…