The Weight of Blood (53)

“So she should be left defenseless? You’re the one always saying we need to support one another. Unity and shit. I’m not the one treating her different because she’s light-skinned. You are!”

“When have you ever looked out for anyone who looked like you? It’s not like I’ve ever seen you at one Black Student Union meeting.”

“Oh, so you mad I haven’t shown up to your little Black club?”

“It’s more than that! And it’s a good thing we exist, or the school would be treating us any old way.”

“But how does that help Maddy?”

“Who cares about Maddy? She’ll be straight.”

Kenny shook his head. “Just admit it, Kali—you would’ve ignored Maddy Washington from the jump. ’Cause even though she’s Black, she’s not Black enough for you the way I’m not Black enough for you, and that’s bullshit!”

Kali gaped at him, then scoffed. “That’s not true.”

“It is. So don’t pretend you value everyone’s Blackness equally.”

She jumped to her feet. “So maybe I do! Would that make me much different than anyone else in the world? Kenny, you don’t think I’ve had things thrown in my hair? Or been the butt of jokes? Or was told how I’m very articulate or very pretty for a dark-skinned girl? Or accused of being too aggressive for simply stating an opinion? Do you know how many times I’ve been sent to the main office since kindergarten, just for asking a question? I’ve had a thousand microaggressions to Maddy’s one, and yet everyone has jumped to coddle her. She gets to be upset and cry, but ME? I gotta be in control and strong but not too strong or I’ll—how did you put it?—‘make people uncomfortable.’ Must be nice to just exist. So yeah, I ain’t worrying about Maddy cause Maddy ain’t ever been worried about us. Bottom line—when she had to choose, she chose to be white. When asked if she was Black, she straight up denied it because she knew damn well how Black people were treated and wanted no part of that. And she had the privilege to do so while the rest of us don’t. We can’t take our skin off at night like it’s a costume or straighten our hair to blend in. If we could, thousands of us would still be alive today!”

Kali’s chest heaved, her eyes full of rage. Kenny’s mouth hung open. He couldn’t believe it. Why hadn’t she told him? People were making fun of her and he didn’t know? Or had he known and chosen to turn a blind eye, ignoring all the little comments, not necessarily at his sister, that made his pulse beat three times faster. What kind of brother wouldn’t protect his little sister? He thought he’d never have to worry about Kali. She always seemed so strong, cutthroat even. But that’s where he had failed, assuming she needed no one.

Everyone needs someone.

He sat on the edge of her bed, palming the book, thinking of Maddy and her father. The way Maddy tensed at just the mention of his name. He understood, more than he cared to admit, Maddy’s true motivations.

“You’re right,” he muttered. “But . . . I don’t think she had a choice in any of that.”

“We all have a choice,” Kali spat.

He eyed her. “Really? You think I’ve had a choice about anything in this house?”

Kali’s scowl softened. She opened her mouth but came up short as a knowing exchange passed between siblings commiserating under the same roof.

“Maddy chose to survive,” Kenny said. “We all do things to survive, to just get through it. We shut up and do what we’re told, because it’s better than any other option. You always talking about wanting to be a change. How about accepting difference within our own people?”

Kali shook her head. “Kenny, she . . . betrayed us with her denial. You expect me to just let that go?”

“Naw. But instead of ignoring her, how about help her, teach her better? Just like you try to teach me. I know that ain’t your job and you shouldn’t have to, but you’re good at . . . leading. I mean, you’ve made me want to be better.”

Kali rolled her eyes as he stood to face her, pulling her into a hug. She resisted at first but relented. They stood there for a long while until Kali began to softly cry into his shoulder. A cry that seemed to have been stuck somewhere deep, buried under a mountain.

“I’m sorry, K,” he said in her ear, squeezing her tighter. “I am so sorry.”

Maddy sat on her knees in her closet, her hands clasped in prayer. She thought praying, in a familiar setting, would help her battle the bitterness leaking through, the darkness roiling inside her chest, and the unfamiliar voices shouting in her head.

But the more she prayed, the more her prayers felt hollow and empty. What comfort had God ever brought her? When had He ever saved her from Papa’s wrath, from the hell at school? Why hadn’t He saved all those people protesting or being hanged on trees, kidnapped on slave ships? Where was the salvation He promised? Where was He?

He was never here, a voice hissed inside her, vibrating like a struck church bell. The tendrils of her dark thoughts wrapped every corner of the house as the cross hanging above her clattered to the floor. Her eyes flew open with a whimper. She stared at the pasted pictures of women Papa wanted her to be, their edges frayed. She stood and peeled back the corner of a photo, exposing the dark wood underneath with a strange burnt marking. She kept peeling, exposing the full scope of the burns, and stood back. Carved in the wall were symbols—circles with five-point stars, a goat’s head, letters drawn backward, lines and forked crosses.