Home > Love Is a Revolution(6)

Love Is a Revolution(6)
Author: Renee Watson

Toya says, “First of all, our name is Inspire Harlem, so maybe it would have been a good idea to have some kind of inspirational songs. Not songs with vulgar lyrics that actually undermine the work we are trying to do and all we stand for.”

Sadie gives me a look, telling me not to push it. I should take her advice and just let them talk because I am not a part of Inspire Harlem so why should I care, but for some reason I keep talking. “But all the songs were edited versions. What’s the—”

“If it needs to be an edited version, maybe it doesn’t need to be played,” Lynn says.

That sounds like something my grandmother would say.

“It’s okay, Nala, you wouldn’t understand,” Imani says.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, we . . . ​being a part of Inspire Harlem means we’ve had to take workshops about how to read the media and how to see all the messages that music, commericals, and even the news are sending to us.”

Lynn jumps in, as if I need more explanation. “We’ve discussed how capitalism has made us go after things that we don’t need and how music sometimes reinforces those toxic ideals.”

And now Toya wants to teach me something. “So, like, it’s not just the music, but the videos and everything that goes into the production of it—think about how the women in those videos look. It’s very rare that a woman has natural hair or is big—”

“As in fat, not thick,” Imani adds.

“Right, so you know—like you straightening your hair, wearing makeup, all your life you’ve been given messages telling you that you have to do that to be beautiful. I get it. I used to be the same way. But when you know better, you do better.”

“Or, when you have freedom, you are free to do what you want with your body and your hair,” I say. And I didn’t need a special program to tell me that.

“All right, can we just . . . ​let’s talk about something else,” Sadie says finally.

“Yeah, let’s drop it.” Imani looks at me, an apology in her eyes.

I look away.

“I didn’t mean to start anything,” Imani says.

But there is no stopping because Toya has more to say. She keeps going on about how the songs on Marcy’s playlist were reinforcing harmful beauty standards and full of misogynistic lyrics.

Sadie rolls her eyes and I smile at her. I know at least two songs that were played tonight are songs Sadie loves. At least someone at this table agrees with me.

Tye, Asher, and Jackson haven’t said anything.

“You don’t have an opinion on this?” I ask them.

“I’m just trying to listen more. I wanted you all to speak first,” Asher says, pointing to us girls. He puts his hand on Imani’s leg; she scoots closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder.

I feel like maybe there’s a hidden camera somewhere and at any moment they are all going to start laughing and tell me they are just kidding. That this is some kind of social justice How Woke Are You? prank. But no. Asher continues. “I’ve been raised on those images and lyrics, and yeah, they are degrading to women. Even the edited versions. I’m not going to lie, I still listen to problematic songs but not as much as I used to, and I definitely wouldn’t have played that mix at the event we had tonight.”

Tye nods. “I’m surprised Ms. Lori let it go on.”

Jackson doesn’t say anything, and I think it’s because he disagrees or maybe doesn’t have a strong opinion either way. He just keeps eating, keeping his mouth full so he doesn’t have to talk.

Toya balls her napkin up and puts it on top of her half-eaten burger. “You should join Inspire Harlem, Nala. You’d learn a lot.”

Not if it’s going to stop me from listening to all the music I love. No thank you.

I lean back and force an I’ll think about it smile. And then Sadie changes the subject, and they all start gossiping about Inspire Harlem drama—who wasn’t there tonight, who might be getting kicked out of the program because they haven’t completed enough community service hours.

I don’t think I’ve said a word for the past fifteen minutes so I pull out my phone and pretend to be looking at something important. I can’t even read what’s on my screen because all I can think about is what Imani said, how she’s been treating me like just because I disagree with her on certain things means I don’t understand. If it wasn’t her birthday, I’d get up and leave. And we still haven’t talked about what she meant when she said, “It’s never about what I want.” What did she mean by that?

Tye scoots closer to me, snatches my phone out of my hands. “Are you always this quiet?”

“No. It’s just that no one is talking to me.” I grab my phone back.

“Sorry. They just tend to get caught up with Inspire Harlem stuff when we’re all together. It took me a while to feel a part of the group too.”

Who said I’m trying to be a part of this group?

“So, what do you want to talk about?” Tye asks.

I want to know if you like Toya as much as she likes you, because she clearly likes you, but I can’t tell if you like her too. “Um, I don’t know. That’s a weird question.”

“Is it?”

“Conversation should just happen naturally. I can’t just come up with a topic to talk about. That feels forced.”

“Okay, okay,” Tye says. He is silent for just a moment and then says, “So, tell me more about the program you volunteer for. What’s the name again?”

I never told you a name because there is no name. “Sugar Hill Senior Living. That’s, uh, that’s the name of the residence. Most of the people living there are all on their own. They cook and take care of themselves, they go as they please. But there are some who have assisted living. Anyone who lives there can attend the programs I do. It’s just a small thing in the lounge. We don’t have, like, an official name for it.” I am talking low to make sure Imani doesn’t hear me. But she is so into her conversation with everyone else, I think I am the last person on her mind.

Tye says, “What you’re doing doesn’t sound small to me. It’s a big deal to be company for people who need it. I’m sure they love having you. You should come up with a name. That could make it even more special.”

Great. I have Tye’s attention, and all he can talk about is old people doing arts and crafts with me. Really?

Before I can answer him, Imani stands up. “Ready to go?” she asks, caught in a long yawn.

We all stand up and leave Harlem Shake. We’ve been in the air conditioning so long that I forgot how hot it is outside. We walk into Harlem’s steam, and Sadie, Jackson, and Lynn are the first to say goodbye. They cross the street toward Fifth Avenue. Toya gives us all a hug but holds on to Tye the longest. She walks to the left and turns one more time to say goodbye, but I think this last wave is just to Tye.

Imani, Asher, and I head home; Tye walks with us. I walk slow on purpose, wanting to be beside Tye as long as I can. Imani is in front of us, holding hands with Asher. They’ve been dating for two years. At first Aunt Ebony and Uncle Randy weren’t too excited about their daughter dating anyone, but Asher won them over once they realized he was just as serious about his grades and integrity as he was about having a girlfriend. Asher has become a part of the family. He’s over for dinner at least once a week.

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