September 12, 2016
I would like to live in a world where Airbnb exists. When traveling, my family of four has outgrown 160 sq. ft. hotel rooms. My husband and I like being able to wake up in the morning and make our kids pancakes or toast a bagel, instead of having to rush downstairs to a pricey hotel restaurant or, even worse, order astronomically priced room service. We like to stretch out and have a backyard for the kids to play in on vacation, or as Airbnb likes to put it “live there.” I get Airbnb. I enjoy it. But I also know what it is like to spend too much of the work day trying to get an Airbnb host to accept you, crafting just the right summary of why you are visiting the area — dropping subtle (or not so subtle) references to graduating from an Ivy League college, being a professor, a lawyer, living in a suburban neighborhood, having small children who attend Montessori school — trying to appear “not too black” to rent to….