A smear campaign that toured every level of the house, informing anyone listening that she would rather I “be a whore, than a lesbian.” Things haven’t been the same in my family since that day. A year after that failed talk, I ran away from home. During that time, my father had a stroke, but Winnie suffered the most because we were always together up until that point. Papi told me about sleepless nights, where she would come down crying at 2 a.m. Her grades dropped that year, and they even took her to see a therapist. All because I wanted to run the streets lawlessly.
My dismissal isn’t enough to make Winnie go away, though. She’s still standing in the bathroom watching me.
“I’m tired of everyone giving their unsolicited opinions on how I should look.”
Why does everyone get hung up on gender roles and hair length? Or what someone should or shouldn’t do and wear. I’ve always found androgynous types to be the most interesting characters. Give me Angelina Jolie in Gia or Michelle Rodriguez in an action movie any day.
“What does that even mean?” Winnie carries on with the topic at hand. “Who else is pressuring you to grow your hair?”
“The opposite.”
“Oh.”
“Adelina wants me to keep it short. She freaked out and started crying and everything.” I admit, feeling the need to vent.
“But why?” Winnie objects.
“Because then the world sees that she’s in a same-sex relationship.”
“Um. That’s weird. Did she not notice your boobs?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“You need to drop that bitch, immediately.”
“No, wait… it gets better.”
Winnie’s eyeballs nearly pop out of their sockets when I remove the piece of gauze covering the tattoo. She sees Adelina’s name crusting the top layers of my skin then throws a fit.
“Hell no! Is that real? That better not be real, Solei. Why? Why would you do that?”
She’s now at a full pace back and forth in the hallway.
“Mami’s going to kick you out. Again. No. She’s going to kill you, then kick you out!”
My poor sister doesn’t have the stomach to deal with our mother’s fury. Every time Mami throws a tantrum, Winnie becomes flushed in warm, rosy cheeks of nerves. If it’s a more intense fight, she’ll break out in hives. At this moment, she’s in the pale turning phase – which is like a level two out of five. It isn’t higher because our parents aren’t home at the moment.
“It’s not that serious.” I suck my teeth at her in denial, knowing deep down that she’s right about the outcome of these actions.
My response is a long-winded rant about my rights of being the ripe old age of, I’m an adult now. The more I ramble, the more Winnie panics. With her anxiety now surfacing as nail-biting. If there’s anything my sensitive younger sister hates, it’s a confrontation of any kind with anyone.
“Do me a favor and act like I don’t know anything.”
“Fine. You’re good. Tattoo? What tattoo?”
Some sisterly support would’ve been great since I’m the one actually going through it. There must be a planetary shift going on or something.
Note to self:
Find out which planet is retrograding and fix it.
Winnie gives up on me and locks herself back up in her room. The fact that the parentals will be returning soon puts an extra pep in my step. I’m not ready to face my mother yet, especially with this bleached hair and name branded on me.
The whole crew walks to Crotona Park for night pool. That’s the name we came up with for sneaking into the park after midnight. One of the guys from the block has it down to a science.
“If we sneak in during shift change, we got two hours before they come back.”
The time always flies by quickly before we’re forced to scatter like insects under the spotlights. Sammy and I call it a night once the cops crash the party. We’re too excited about tomorrow’s pride festivities.
The following day, I start extra early. Sammy stays in bed. Semi-naked gay boys, lesbians in wife-beaters flexing their muscled tattoo sleeves, trans mamis and papis, and drag queens are filling the city. They are performance-ready in bright colors and feathers coming out of everywhere. I walk past a squad of scantily clad femmes strutting all their goodies, followed by stone-cold butches, making sure no one disrespects them. And me, wandering with nothing to do because I woke up feeling stir-crazy.
There’s a line going around the block at the one place serving breakfast. I spot an old friend halfway to getting in, who tells me they now identify as nonbinary and invite me to cut the line to join them and their friends. I realize the group is loud and obnoxious after accepting the invitation.
It’s too early for this shit.
My desire to socialize is ruined by the stares and disapproving eyes gazing back at us. The loudest one of the friends feeds off the attention and acts more outrageous by the second. His tribe encourages the hype with suggestions on what poses to hold while they take pictures.
“Give me face, bitch,” one instigates.
I’m supposed to call Adelina to figure out today’s plans, but I’m not sure I want to. Her name on my wrist is taunting me. I wish I could rub it raw until it’s gone. The permanence of this mistake feels more shackling than having a kid with someone you can’t stand.
The gay boys are now “voguing” and challenging one another to dance-offs with no music playing. That’s my cue to exit before it gets worse. I finally give in to calling Adelina.
“It’s about time. I’ve been waiting for your call all morning, stupid.”
“Why are you calling me stupid?”
“I don’t mean it like that. It’s just a figure of speech.” she dismisses. “What took you so long? You never sleep this late.”
“I’m already downtown. Where do you want to meet?”
Adelina starts to argue with me when she hears that I’m in the city without her. The day hasn’t even kicked off, and I’m already in a bad mood. It takes a few minutes to explain why I’m avoiding my mother and another ten to rationalize my thought process in not going to her first.
“Come pick me up. I’ll start getting ready now.”
Click.
How did I get hustled into going all the way to Queens, just to come right back? When I get there forty-five minutes later, she’s still not ready, of course. It takes another half-hour before she finally turns the corner of her block, looking shy. Adelina always acts like this when we argue. The temporary modesty gets overshadowed by her ripped up, rhinestone-studded shirt – an Adelina original – hot pink skinny jeans, stilettos, and her favorite heart-shaped sunglasses.
She kisses me with a warmth I can’t reciprocate. Her scattered topics are strung along in tangents as I pretend to keep up. Adelina is oblivious to the fact that I barely like her right now.
“Babe, I’m sorry… your hair looks amazing. I meant to say that, but you know how my brain works.” she waves her disregard off as a joke.
As we make our way through the swelling crowd against the police barricades, thousands of people celebrating pride cross our path. Every other street corner aligns me with someone I know from different chapters of my life. The interaction is usually the same. It starts with big hugs.
“Oh, my God!”
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s been so long!”
“You’re gay now?”
“This is my girlfriend.”
“Let’s party later.”
“I owe you a drink!”
The exchanges usually end with an agreement to link up later, but you rarely do. You never have to, though, because you end up at the same parties trying to get the bartender’s attention.
Sammy and Natalia finally find us along the route.
“I have to pee.” Adelina rudely an
nounces, interrupting the moment I’m having with my best friend.
Sammy cups her hands together.
“Here you go, sweetie.”
“Can we find a bathroom, please?” Adelina disregards her.
“Come on. We’ll all go.” Sammy offers.
“No, you can stay here. Hopefully, we’ll lose you. I mean, hopefully, we won’t lose you.”
After fifteen minutes of waiting in line at the pizza shop, we all decide to use it. I’m the last to come back out, where I find Sammy and Natalia ordering a slice. Adelina is nowhere in sight.
“Yo, where’s my girl?” I ask.
“I just saw her walk out.”
I can see Adelina on the sidewalk talking to a shirtless guy on a motorcycle. His nipples are covered in stickers that read:
I’m a Lesbian.
The crowd shields me enough to observe their interaction. Her body language tells me all I need to know about the conversation, as she laughs at something he says and touches his arm. The guy hands Adelina his phone – sending me into action. I move through the crowd towards them, but she spots me in time and walks away from him.
“Who was that?” I demand.
“Who?”
Her attitude teeters between:
“I’ve been caught!” and “why are you questioning me?”
“Um, that guy you were just talking to.”
I point him out of the crowd as his boys celebrate his phone number acquisition in the middle of gay pride.
“Oh… he’s… this guy I know.”
The hesitation buys her time to think.
“Really? From where?”
Adelina’s eyebrows scrunch up as they do when she gets defensive.
“Are you kidding me? Sol, if I tell you I know somebody, then I know them. I don’t have a reason to lie.”
Her argument is so firm that a feeling of foolishness starts to sink in. It doesn’t feel like the truth, though. I know what I saw. I’ve never doubted anything she has ever told me until right now.
“Okay, so why did he shake your hand like he was introducing himself to you?”
“He was… joking around. Pretending to… be introducing himself because it’s been a while.”
I’m not sure what bothers me more. The fact that she thinks I’m this dumb or that she’s such a terrible liar. Skepticism escapes me in the form of a chuckle. My face is hard with anger as my jaw clenches so tight I can feel grinding on the enamel of my teeth.
An assembly line of fellow parade-goers flash, prance, strut, and swagger on the congested corner of Christopher and Hudson. I want to be fabulous with them, but here I am, angry at my girlfriend for flirting with some fuckboy. I should’ve left her ass at home.
Adelina kisses me.
This failed attempt to reel me back in sparks rebellion instead. Determined to be an asshole, I flirt with drunken hot girls as they walk by. The music from the float passing through is turning the streets into one big party. One extra-lit spectator presses her butt into me and starts to dutty wine. A friend grabs the girl and yanks her away.
“Hey, come here. Don’t start your shit. I know what you’re doing. Please, don’t.” Adelina puts her arm around my waist and presses into me.
“You’re the one that started acting single.”
“We’re not single, okay? Your eyes better stay on me,” she demands.
“That goes both ways.” I push back from her, “I saw you give that guy your number.”
“Baby, he got the wrong number. I was just trying to be polite, so I went along with it.”
Adelina wraps her arms around my waist again, claiming me. I turn to putty in her persistence, even though I know she’s lying. This deception is a salve to my hurting heart. Choosing denial allows me permission to forgive her.
Sammy and Natalia return to us being romantic, unaware of our little fight. It takes two hours to get through the crowd for a good view of the fireworks at the end of the night.
“Can you take me home, baby?” Adelina pouts like a kid trying to get her way. “I’ll sneak you in. I want you to sleep with me tonight.”
Sammy interrupts her.
“Aren’t we going to Cottontail? You know they throw the best pride parties.”
“Are you crazy? My feet are killing me. I’ve been in heels all day.” Adelina whines.
“No one said you had to come. I meant we as in us.” Sammy uses her index finger to create a circle that excludes Adelina.
I cut them off before it escalates.
“I’m taking her home. I can’t let her go by herself.” Adelina grins victoriously. “I’ll drop her off and meet you at the club in like two hours.” I turn to her, “I would love to spend the night, but I don’t want to hide under the bed for hours while your parents fall asleep or because they woke up early in the morning.”
Adelina’s expression breaks triumph as she realizes my plan is different from hers. She stomps down the steps of the subway station in protest.
“I’ll find you at Cottontail,” I tell Sammy before rushing behind her.
It’s hard to keep an eye on Adelina through the wave of people descending onto the platform until she stops by a payphone to wait for the train. A few feet away from where she has posted up is the group from this morning. They’re still “voguing” and challenging each other for the best moves. Adelina sucks her teeth and folds her arms when she sees me.
“I don’t need you to take me home. Go have fun with your little friends.”
The gay boys erupt into cackles.
“Why are you upset? Is it so hard to understand why I don’t want to hide under your bed instead of partying with my friends?”
Adelina lightens up. Her shoulders relax, and her eyebrows straighten out.
“I just want you in my bed. It’s been such a great day that I don’t want it to end.”
She’s using “great day” very loosely, hardly believing it herself.
“I know, love. Not tonight, though. All right?”
Just then, one of the gay boys shrieks like a girl.
“Shut up already, will ya?” A disheveled white man yells out at them. “I’m tired of you fags making all this goddamn noise. Acting like a bunch of pussies.”
His words are slurred.
“I know that motherfucker isn’t talking to me.” one member of the group mumbles.
There’s a pronounced difference from the flamboyant behavior they’ve had on display.
“Men acting like women, it’s crazy!” the rant continues.
I pull away from Adelina, aware of something deeper brewing, but my goal of not attracting his attention is sabotaged when he stares right at us.
“Now we have dudes with tits! Unbelievable. You’re all going to hell. Every last one of you!”
Adelina fidgets and focuses on the tunnel for an incoming train.
“Is that your girlfriend, little boy?” he laughs. “Hey! I’m talking to you.”
“Listen, I don’t want any trouble. I’m just trying to get home, all right?”
“You don’t want any trouble? Should’ve thought of that before turning into a big, fat dyke.”
His words weigh me down like cinder blocks at the bottom of a lake.
Dyke.
The word doesn’t bother me all that much. It’s how it gets flung like a ninja star when a man wants to insult your sexuality. This particular man is still going off from his holier-than-thou high horse about why he’s superior to all of us. Each statement brings him one step closer.
“Yo, why are you coming into our personal space?” I finally push back. “And why are you in the village if you hate gay people so much?”
“You’re all living in sin. You’ll burn in hell for it,” he shouts.
“Get out of here with that shit, b
ro.”
“Bro? I’m not your fucking bro. You think you’re a man? I’ll treat you like a man.”
He charges at me with closed fists. My face gets pummeled with punches three times.
Right.
Left.
Right.
On the third hit, everything blacks out.
My brain regains consciousness before the rest of me does. Whatever machine is beeping near me is causing my head to pound. Through the slits of puffed skin, I can see a blurred hospital room. Everything hurts. Someone’s silhouette is in the corner watching over me.
“Baby,” I whisper, assuming it’s Adelina.
The person jumps up from their chair.
“Hey, it’s Sammy. Some asshole attacked you. Do you remember?” her voice is unsettled.
“Yeah, that idiot was acting so dumb. Where’s Adelina?” I mumble.
“I don’t know. She texted me from your phone saying you were being brought to this hospital. When I got here, she was gone.”
“Can you call my parents?”
“I already did. They’re on the way. Oh, and if the nurses ask, I’m your sister.”
“How bad does my face look?”
Every part of my face and head feels swollen and lumped up. I must look like an ogre.
“I’ll be honest, it doesn’t look cute, but I have a plan. We’ll tell the ladies you’re a boxer, and I’m your coach. We’re going to get so much play.” she chuckles.
Sammy’s game plan is amusing, but it hurts too much to express it.
My parents wait outside the hospital until we’re done. Winnie is in the backseat, her wide eyes filled with concern. I recount the fragments of what I can remember as they listen quietly. The tension is tangible beneath their calm exteriors. Details of this random man beating me up fall under the worst things they have warned me about. This story is a scary confirmation that the world will pass its judgment on their daughter for the lifestyle she lives.
“Can we get something to eat?” I ask.
We unanimously agree on a diner uptown. When Sammy tries to convince Papi to let her pay for her share, he goes straight into papa bear mode.
“Get your mom some flowers with that money.”
I rest my eyes on the drive back home. My neck is starting to cramp up from the punches thrown at me. Visions of that moment on the platform pop into my mind – the gay boys, the drunk asshole, the people watching in shock, and Adelina roll around in my head. A train on the opposite track pulls in. It screeches to a stop then hisses with relief.
Identity Interrupted Page 9