Watch Us Rise(67)

Haiku for a rainy (and lonely) Saturday afternoon

by Chelsea Spencer

Consider the frame

all this body, all these lies

woman on display.

Scientific bind

dissected anatomy

bust, butt, shoulder, spine.

Examination

chest forward, eyes wide, mind dull extrovert this build.

Systemic, systematic. Manic—panic pleads

conform proportion.

Personality

package it perfectly prim

proper, prestigious.

Weigh the part. Spandex spit shine, girls wild, lemon drop dance floor, curve at this.

Freak, funk, fantasy

suite life, lady luck, closed legs back straight, teeth white, smile.

Be and look the part

the girl always on the side

never the girlfriend.





“Hey, can we talk?” James asks at my locker.

I’ve already given up on him, already cried myself to sleep and hated myself in the morning, hated that I could let some boy make me feel less than, or not good enough. I’ve already tried every pep talk possible and tried to convince myself he’s not worth my time, and that he’s not about to make me question my self-worth, but when he’s standing in front of me smiling I get weak, and my stomach tumbles into itself, and I feel like I’m gonna start crying again all at the same time. I hate feeling this way.

“I gotta get to after-school,” I say.

“Can I just . . . just lemme talk for a second, okay?”

I stop in front of him, waiting. I realize that I don’t care anymore about the way I look in front of him—if my hair is a frizzy mess, or if I ate the hummus at lunch—so what if I have garlic breath? I don’t care that I’m wearing jeans and my plain sweatshirt—I’m just me, and if he doesn’t like me, if he’s not into me this way, then who cares? It’s time for me to find somebody who can handle all of me—just the way I am.

“Look, I just . . . ?I want you to know I’m not hiding you like Jasmine thinks,” he starts.

“What? What did Jasmine say? Did she say that? I didn’t . . .”

“No, she’s right. I haven’t really been honest about . . . whatever. I just . . . ?I like you, but I just, I can’t . . . ?right now, I just . . .”

“Stop. I get it,” I say, closing my locker and starting to walk away.

“You don’t, I don’t think you do.”

“Don’t tell me how to feel,” I say, stepping back, trying to avoid the chemical energy that seems to be pulling me to him like a reckoning force. “I know exactly how I feel. I feel like you can’t treat me like this. If you want me, you gotta show me, and you gotta be for me. I am not a receptacle.”

“What?”

“I’m not some side chick, or whatever, that you can keep around when you want to feel all important. I’m not here for you in that way anymore.” I throw my book bag over my shoulder and start to walk away.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Prove it,” I shout back. “Or don’t. I’m good either way. Really. I am.” And for the first time, I believe it myself.

By the time I get to Jasmine at the bookstore, I’m shaking but not crying. In fact, I don’t even feel like crying. Screw him, I think. Hotness can only get you so far. I hug Jasmine and open my notebook. No matter what, I have my best friend, who has been there through everything. She’s my constant.

FROM THE DESK OF PRINCIPAL JOSEPH HAYES

Dear Amsterdam Heights Community,

I am proud to announce that our school is being honored with the Chancellor’s Award for being a model of social justice education. Chancellor Carmen Freeman will be visiting our school to present the award and give special recognition to our staff and teachers who work tirelessly to ensure that our community is a safe place for everyone. This event will be a grand celebration and is open to the public. We hope you and your family will join us in celebrating.

With gratitude and in solidarity,

Principal Hayes



Chelsea: Did you all see this yet?

Nadine: Deleted it.

Isaac: Haven’t checked email all weekend.

Me: No. Thanks for the screen shot.

Chelsea: A model school?

Me: If by model they mean an example of how to shut down student voice. True.

Nadine: LOL.

Nadine: We should boycott the ceremony.

Isaac: That would be so awesome if no one shows up. Just Hayes & the chancellor.

Me: No. We should attend. We should go and speak up.

Chelsea: YES! We could do one of the actions from that book Leidy gave us.

At this, I stop texting and call Chelsea.

As soon as she picks up, I say, “We’ve got to come up with a plan.”





Welcome to the distinguished Chancellor’s Award Night,” Principal Hayes begins. “I want to thank you all for attending tonight. We are so proud and honored to be one of the highest-scoring schools in our district, especially since we don’t pride ourselves on the test. In fact, we think of testing as secondary to the hard work we do on community building and strengthening our ties to the world around us.”

Here we are—me, Jasmine, Nadine, and Isaac—sitting in the last row of the auditorium next to some of the girls from our Write Like a Girl gatherings at Word Up. And to the right of us is the entire girls varsity basketball team from our school, and on the left side of us is the team from George Washington High, which is just down the street. Mia rallied her team, and they put the word out to other teams in the league. They’re all wearing versions of our shirts. They came to make some noise.