Page 2 of Pride and Protest
Maurice sauntered into the front room then, dressed in a tan suit with a brown bow tie. He was going for a Nation of Islam look with none of the entanglements of having read any of the doctrine. He shook his locked hair out. At twenty-two, his face still flirted with handsomeness but never really settled there.
“Salutations, ladies,” Maurice said.
“Maurice, you missed church,” Liza said. “Momma, why didn’t you wake Maurice up for church?”
They all knew why she didn’t wake Maurice. Since he’d gotten back home from serving thirteen days for failure to pay traffic tickets, Maurice had been aggressively “woke.” He went vegan for exactly six days, paid for an Arabic class he never showed up for, and kept calling women “fe-males” in a way that sounded a lot like “bitches.”
“I think we should go to the gala,” Bev said, ignoring Maurice entirely.
Liza closed her laptop slowly. “Momma, you cannot allow those developers to try to sweet-talk these senior citizens out of their apartments!” Liza stood up. “The only reason they want the seniors there is to scope them out. Longbourne Gardens is the last low-income complex in the area. My rent rose forty percent above what I paid before, and hereIam living with you. Where are the poor supposed to live if they tear this down too?”
“Big sis is entirely correct...” Maurice piped in. Liza groaned. “This has its origins in African colonialism. The white man’s need to colonize Black space is insatiable. That’s why I see my dating of exclusively white women as reverse colonization. We need to rec—”
“Liza, do you hear that?Mauriceis cosigning.” LeDeya stomped her foot. “That should let you know how lame you’re being right now. Why do you never want to have any fun?” LeDeya reached for Liza’s laptop. At sixteen, she had already taken after their mother—all curves, height, big hair, and incredible nosiness. “Momma says those people over there are loaded—I’m talkin’ Red Lobster rich.”
Liza and Janae exchanged looks, but Maurice seemed to reconsider. LeDeya pressed on. “She just wants us to go to this little groundbreaking and be introduced to some people.” LeDeya quickly tapped on Liza’s laptop, then turned it around to show the evite in Liza’s email like aPrice Is Rightmodel.
Liza lunged for her computer. “That only shows me you figured out my password again.”
“There was nothing to figure out.” LeDeya easily held the machine above her shorter sister’s head. “It’salwayssome lame variation of ‘QWERTY123.’ ”
“Stop your snooping, Deya.” Granny ambled into the living room from the back room. Her tennis shoes squeaked on theclear plastic runner supposedly protecting the grungy brown carpet. She wore a purple velour tracksuit with a polyester turban and large pearl earrings. She looked like she should pace around a neighborhood mall at all times or possibly tell fortunes in a storefront. “You too fast, girl.” She eyed her youngest granddaughter. “You will not be introduced to any grown men—rich or broke.”
LeDeya bent her head down, and she punched Liza in the arm before plopping herself on the sofa. She opened Liza’s laptop again and began immediately scrolling through Instagram. Granny’s word was like iron. In the ongoing saga between Liza and her mother, Granny was always saving Liza before total catastrophe struck.
“And you oughta listen to Liza every once in a while, Beverly,” Granny continued. “She’s the only one of you with some actual sense. Them people ain’t nothing but vultures. Them fat cats want to know two things: what else they can tear down to make some money, and if we stupid enough to let ’em.”
“Ma,” Bev pleaded, “they’re supposed to be all green and affordable. They have units set aside for the poor. Even Rosa Parks over here can’t deny they’re trying harder than those other guys.”
“Okay, they want some good PR,” Liza replied. “They want some poor Black people huddled around the microphone being thankful to their white saviors who are going to revitalize the community. And when they say ‘revitalize,’ they mean to take all the black and brown out of the décor,” Liza said.
“Amen, sister,” Maurice said. “But on second thought, this could be a chance to strike from within. Think of how uncomfortable it will make everyone there to see me, a hardened criminal raised by the streets—”
“Maurice, you were raised by your granny, and you didn’t pay your parking tickets,” Liza retorted.
Maurice looked taken aback, then shook his head in resignation. “That’s the problem with sistas—they’re too myopic. Can’t see the long game.”
“Oh Liza, USAID regrets to inform you they went with another candidate,” LeDeya broke in.
Liza snatched her laptop away from her sister and slammed it closed with too much force. “Stay out of my email, Deya!” Heat crept up Liza’s neck. It was the third no this month.
“It’s funny that my daughter who finds fault witheverything and everybodycan’t even find a job as a dog catcher or keep a man longer than a summer. Maybe look at your own self before you offer your famous opinions up?” Bev said. Her neck slid from side to side like an abacus bead.
Janae patted Liza gently while shooting a warning look at Bev. “Keep at it, Liza. You’ll find your fit. As for the event, I think we can compromise. I think they want to build a community garden with the elders before the gala—no cameras. You know how Granny feels about gardening.” Once Granny’s eyes lit up, it was all but over. Bev smiled in triumph.
Liza was already deflating. “How do you know this?” It maddened her that her sweet-faced sister could convince people of something with such little effort, while Liza had been shouting all her life to no avail.
Janae unfolded a small flyer and handed it to her sister with a look. The subtext was clear.Let Granny shine.There were no World’s Best Widows or Top Seamstress awards coming for her anytime soon.
African prints and gardening tools—two of Granny’s obsessions—outlined the trim of the paper. “ ‘Each one, teachone, Harambee,’ ” Liza mumbled under her breath. “ ‘Developers and community members learn from each other! Let’s build together! Join us for a community gardening event before the gala! Winner of the best home garden competition wins a trip to Philadelphia for Pemberley Development’s fifty-year corporate anniversary.’ ”
The flyer was perfectly calibrated for the fifty-and-older set:
Nebulous Pan-African language
