Blanca: You are jealous and petty, and you show your true colors. Elektra: I have a right to show my colors, and you showed yours. You’re not ready. You’re a second banana. I’ll give you that, but no more. Look at me. Look at you. I can pass. I can strut down fifth avenue when the sun is sitting high as my cheek bones and be waited on at Bergdorf’s, same as any white woman, while you hide away in the shadows. You’re way ahead of yourself in the game… beast. Blanca: So, do any of you want to walk out this door with me into the future or would you rather choke on dust and decay? Elektra: You’ll be back. Blanca: Never.
Blanca: Notice what it’s all about. Being able to fit into the straight, white world and embody the American dream. We don’t have access to that dream, and it’s not because of ability, trust me. I mean… isn’t that what you’re trying to do? Dance your way into that world? The world of acceptability? Damon: Sorry I said I wasn’t like you. Blanca: Oh child, hush. You are a gay black boy. Who else you goin’ find to make to feel superior?