by Carrie Pack
We’re mostly quiet on the bus ride back to Decker. I have so much I want to say to Jackie, but she seems as though she’s about to bubble over from excitement. I don’t want to dull that.
On her lap, Jackie’s holding a tiny stuffed cat that she bought for Janae. She hasn’t put it down since she picked it up in the convenience store next to our motel, when she went in for some snacks for the trip and came out with the artificial calico cat under her arm.
I’m nervous about meeting her family, but I’m so happy for her I could burst. I can tell she’s nervous, too, but she won’t stop smiling.
“Are you okay with heading back early?” Jackie asks. “I know you were excited about the tour.”
“I was excited about spending time with you. Still doing that.”
She caresses my cheek. I can tell she wants to kiss me, but I know she won’t in public. Not when we don’t know anyone. I want to kiss her too, so I squeeze her hand for reassurance. She squeezes back.
After a few moments I decide it’s time we talked. “I really am sorry about earlier,” I say, knowing it’s not enough but hoping it does the job.
Jackie waves me off. “It’s fine. I know you were just worried about me.” She turns to gaze out the window. “But you have to understand, that kind of stuff is going to happen. And some of it may even be directed at you.”
“How do you deal with it?”
“Lifetime of practice. Parents who talked to me about that stuff.”
“I’m sorry I was such an idiot. I didn’t realize what it’s like for you.”
“You got a lot to learn, babe.”
“I know. And I will.”
Waiting at the bus station is a woman I recognize from graduation: Jackie’s mom, Deborah. Her skin is a darker brown than Jackie’s, but they have the same delicate nose and high cheekbones. On her hip is a small boy with long, skinny legs and a toothless grin. Standing next to them is a slightly smaller version of Jackie with shoulder-length braids adorned at the ends with pink beads. Janae is holding on to the last vestiges of childhood, but it’s evident that puberty isn’t far off. When she sees Jackie, she waves and bounces on her feet. The little boy, Jackson, wriggles from his mother’s arms and does the same. The moment we’re off the bus both children race for her and throw their arms around her. Mrs. Hardwick smiles with closed lips as tears fill her eyes.
Jackie frees herself from her siblings’ grip and takes a few tentative steps toward her mother.
“Hi, Mama.”
“Hello, Jacqueline.”
They stare at each other, and I think the tension is going to boil over. But then Jackie breaks into a huge smile and throws her arms around her mother. Deborah’s arms drift up to Jackie’s shoulders, and her eyes close as tears begin to fall.
“You’re home, baby girl,” she says softly. “You’re home at last.”
Jackie pulls away and wipes her eyes. She gestures for me to come forward. “Mama, I want you to meet my girlfriend, Tabitha.”
I hold out my hand. “Hello, Mrs. Hardwick. It’s nice to meet you.”
She stares at my palm with a furrowed brow. Oh God, she’s going to snub me. Maybe I shouldn’t have dyed my hair. Maybe Jackie shouldn’t have introduced me as her girlfriend right out of the gate. I wriggle my fingers nervously and start to pull away. Then she smiles. “I’m a hugger, Tabitha. So you better get used to it.” She wraps her thick arms around me and squeezes. “Ooh, this girl has some meat on her bones. You could learn a thing or two from her.”
Over Mrs. Hardwick’s shoulder I see Jackie’s bright smile and I return it, full force.
“I love you,” I mouth.
Her lips form the same words as her mother releases me.
“Well, let’s get out of here. I made pot roast for dinner and if we don’t get home soon, Jerome will eat it all.”
Jackie’s sidelong glance tells me she’s worried about Jerome’s reaction, but there’s also determination in her eyes. She’s not about to let anyone make her feel like less of a person. Not even her brother.
I laugh at myself. How could I have ever worried about her? She’s going to be fine.
We’re going to be fine.
Grrrls on the Side No. 1
Welcome to Grrrls on the Side, a zine created by Jackie Hardwick and Venus Jones. We’re a couple of gorgeous badass goddesses and it’s time someone heard from us. So sit back and enjoy the ride because you’re about to get a reality check from the sidelines. But we won’t be on the sidelines for long. We’re sick and tired of not being allowed to be love interests. We want to be the main characters of our own stories.
A Gap in the Pay Gap as told by Venus Jones
I hear a lot of grrrls talk about girl power and that women need to stick together but when it comes to including us brown and black girls, y’all drop the ball. Feminism isn’t just for white girls and the sooner everyone realizes that, the sooner we’ll get what we want.
Did you know that white women make about 70¢ on the dollar to what a white man makes? And a black woman makes about 63¢ and a Hispanic woman makes about 55¢? Even men aren’t exempt from this racism. Black men barely make more than white women and Hispanic men barely eke out more than black women. Wake up, people! This is a systemic issue. We need to close the pay gap across gender lines, but it’s also about race. Stop ignoring my color and separating it from my gender. I am both things at once.
Mending fences and fixing your weave
Redemption can be a powerful thing. I never thought I’d say it but I’m happy to be back home. I spent the early part of the summer on tour with Shut Up and let me tell you, my girl Venus can tear up a beat. But I was homesick and I didn’t realize it.
I’ve mended relationships and apologized for my errors. I’ve forgiven and asked for forgiveness. It’s not been an easy road, but life is good.
Don’t get me wrong. Life isn’t perfect. Yesterday my girlfriend said to me, “I wish I could grow my hair long enough to do braids like that,” and I had to explain a weave to her.
She’s got a lot to learn. But we’re working on it.
~Jackie
Acknowledgments
This book would not exist without the influence of many powerful women in my life. First and foremost, my mother, who taught me my worth existed beyond my body. Also my grandmother, who taught me that I could make my voice heard. She was born before women could vote and worked tirelessly in politics and social causes throughout her life. She was a true Riot Grrrl and I will be forever grateful that I got to call her my Granny.
I would also like to thank my editor and good friend Annie Harper. She makes my books shine and pushes me to believe in myself even when I want to give up. It’s an invaluable friendship and working relationship that I am extremely lucky to have. I also want to thank Nicki and Zoe. You continually challenge me to write more concisely and it makes my writing better.
To the wonderful Ebony and Wesaun, thank you for pushing me to look beyond myself and my personal experience to make Grrrls a book that anyone can enjoy.
I also owe a huge thanks to everyone else at Interlude Press—CL Miller, CB Messer, and the late Lex Huffman. This book is a result of the guidance and talent you’ve shared with me over the years.
To Brian Brewer, my best friend and an honorary Riot Grrrl, thanks for letting me be catty and crude whenever I need to. But for also cheerleading and critiquing my writing. To Knits, a lovely soul whose friendship and support means so much. I think our 1994 versions would have been friends who joined Riot Grrrl together. To Laura Stone, thank you for being a dear friend, mentor, beta and all-around awesome lady. To my fellow authors who publish with Interlude Press and Duet Books, thanks for being a part of this supportive group of talented writers who believe in diverse fiction.
And to my husband, Josh, a true feminist and supporter of women’s rig
hts, you are the best thing that’s ever come into my life. Thank you for knowing that I need support, love, and truth—even when I don’t want to admit it. You make me stronger and a better person, and I love you beyond words.
About the Author
Carrie Pack is a published author of books in multiple genres, including Designs on You, and In the Present Tense. Her novels focus on characters finding themselves in their own time—something she experienced for herself when she came out as bisexual recently. She lives in Florida, or as she likes to call it, “America’s Wang.”
For a reader’s guide to Grrrls on the Side and book club prompts, please visit duetbooks.com.
@duetbooks
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