LITMIR.BIZ

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Jayd, relax. It’s just a play,” Seth says. I know he’s not still talking after that racist remark. It’s just a play, my ass.

      “How would you feel if every play we chose always had a degrading gay character in it who you were automatically chosen to play because we all know that you’re a homosexual?” Seth thinks about what I’ve said, but still sides with his folks. After all, no one would know he was gay if he didn’t open his mouth. He’s white first, and we all know the drill.

      That’s why I’m not really down for the gay rights activists using the Civil Rights Movement as an example for their struggles. I agree we should all be able to live as we see fit, but some of us are freer in society than others because of race first, sexual orientation second.

      “What’s going on here?” Alia asks, making herself comfortable in one of the seats across the room with the other two girls sitting near by.

      “Jayd’s pissed because we want to do The Crucible for our spring play and perform a scene from it for the Cultural Festival, too,” Matt says, throwing his pen down on the floor in front of him, he’s so frustrated with the topic at hand. Like Jeremy, he’s not the confrontational type. Maybe it’s all the water in their ears from surfing that usually keeps them so mellow.

      “Oh, that’s a great idea. I love Arthur Miller’s writing.” Cameron would love it. She’s as much a puritan as any of the characters in the play.

      “So what’s the problem?” Ella asks, already bored with the conversation. She takes a mirror out of her Dooney & Bourke purse and perfects her flawless makeup. The diva of the club, Ella rarely comes to meetings, or class for that matter. Apparently her agent keeps her busy with auditions during the day. She’s a proud card–carrying SAG member, and most of the drama hams around here want to be just like her.

      “The problem is that Jayd doesn’t want to play Tituba, so who will?” Seth asks, as if the play is now ruined because the token black girl refuses to play the only black role. Oh well.

      “Why can’t I audition like everyone else and play one of the other parts? There are more female roles than just the slave,” I offer, just to further goad them into another racist confession. I have no intention of playing a Puritan, anymore than they have of playing a slave.

      “Oh, Jayd, please. You’re always complaining about something or other. Can’t you just be happy that you always have a part, especially when there’s a black female role? It’s yours, hands down,” Ella says, never looking up from the compact mirror she’s primping in.

      “Did you really just say that shit to me?” I ask, rising from my seat, ready to march over and confront her head-on. Before I can, the door to our small room opens, cutting the tension in the air like a knife.

      “Hey, what’s going on in here? We can hear all of you on the stage,” Mrs. Sinclair says, coming in from the main theater to break up our growing disagreement. I thought the drama club was the one clique I could be a part of, and lose myself in a character on a regular basis. But it’s times like these I see I’ll always be the odd girl out.

      “What’s going on is that there are some serious racists up in this place and I can’t take it anymore,” I say, opening my bag of Hot Cheetos in my lap and stuffing my mouth with a handful of the spicy snack. They probably won’t help me calm down, but they will momentarily slow me down from talking smack in front of Mrs. Sinclair.

      “Oh, Jayd, calm down. You’re always so overdramatic about things. I’m sure it’s not all that bad,” she says, automatically taking their side. I keep eating and they keep talking.

      “Well, actually, Mrs. Sinclair, Jayd’s got a point,” Chance says, coming to my defense. He’s my boy even if he’s unaware that he should be offended, too because his birth mother is half black according to one of my dreams. “We do tend to choose plays that favor the majority. How about we try something different?”

      “Chance, I can’t talk about this now,” Mrs. Sinclair says, her hands waving above her frizzy head. Talk about overdramatic. She’s the one teaching me a thing or two. “Whatever you vote for is what we’re going to perform, end of discussion,” she says, taking the final word back to the stage with her. Seth and Matt look relieved and victorious, knowing the vote is unnecessary. Why do I even try?

      “Excuse me. I need some air,” I say, rising from my seat and taking my chips with me. Chance follows me out the door as the bell for fifth period rings, ending our meeting anyway.

      “Jayd, I’m sorry about those jerks,” he says, putting his hands on my shoulders and rubbing them softly. He gives great massages, or used to. Ever since I started dating Jeremy and he and Nellie hooked up, we don’t spend much time alone together anymore. I miss my friend. “I wouldn’t want to play a witch either.”

      “She’s not a witch. She’s a priestess,” I say, repeating the same rationale to Chance as I argued with Jeremy this past weekend.

      “Okay, priestess,” he says, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “But still, I would take more offense at playing that part of the role than being a slave. History is history.”

      “But it’s a biased view of history, Chance. And by the way, it’s captive, not slave,” I say. The late bell rings, signaling it’s time to get back inside.

      “Okay, Jayd, now you’re just getting too sensitive about this. I don’t know what you want me to say, but I’ve got your back either way it goes,” Chance says, going back into the crowded room ahead of me. Maybe he has a point. How can I get upset at the students when the adults are the ones enforcing the bull that they learn? Mrs. Sinclair didn’t even entertain my idea, and she dismissed my disapproval of Seth’s suggestion as another case of “black girl rage.”

      The teachers are the ones I should be mad at, not the dumb-ass students I have to put up with. Unfortunately, no matter how hot I get, there’s really no use in fighting the administration up here. Mrs. Bennett’s the only teacher-bitch I can deal with, and she has made the biased rules apparent enough for me. But no matter what, I refuse to allow this school to make me forget who I am and where I come from. And willingly playing the role of a slave is unacceptable to me when I know my ancestors and elders taught me better than that.

      2

      The Administration

      “They schools ain’t teachin’ us what we need to know to survive/

       They schools don’t educate, all they teach the people is lies.”

      —DEAD PREZ

      I didn’t get to chill with my girls yesterday at all because I had to meet with Mrs. Malone about my English paper topic. And being that it was a regular short Tuesday yesterday for teacher’s meetings, I had no time to do anything but get to class and sit in my mandatory AP meetings during lunch and break, which are now on Tuesdays and Thursdays until the AP exams are over.

      With the AP exams less than two months away, teachers and students alike are feeling the pressure. This is my first year on the AP track, and so far it hasn’t been too different from the honors classes I took last year, except for the meetings. Being a sophomore was bliss compared to my junior year. If it weren’t for my friends, school would be unbearable, especially now that I have to deal with Mrs. Bennett twice a week. I’m just glad that Mr. Adewale is here full-time now, to balance out the evil Mrs. B’s presence in my life.

      Speaking of bitches, I talked to Rah briefly about his and his ex Sandy’s living situation, and it was less than favorable for me. I’m not sure what to do about loving Rah, and I know he’s just trying to do the right thing, but I’m convinced that living with Sandy is not it. How can I get him to understand where I’m coming from without sounding like a jealous hater? Until she’s out of his house I can’t be in his life the way he wants me to be. In his mind, he and I, along with his daughter, Rahima, could be the perfect teenage family. I don’t know what dream world he’s living in, but I could never be down with that arrangement as long as Sandy’s receiving

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