Equal Rights by Frederick K Foote

Lux Brandon is sitting at his kitchen table at 6:51 am, comparing a printed document to a Word file on his tablet computer. He writes on the paper to note a difference between the two sources. He rubs his shadow-bearded chin in frustration.

Ala, his 12-year-old daughter, skips into the kitchen. “Hey, Dad, are you still my attorney? I hope. Please? Yes?”

“Ala, I’m busy here trying to figure out why this printed file is different from the one on the computer.”

Ala scans the paper document and the tablet.

“Dad, if you look at the file menu and open the ‘inf’ section, you can see Jan Whitter changed the document two days after you printed this.”

“Damn, I told Jan not to change it. Ala, you good for something besides keeping up a mess.” He gives her a quick hug. “Thanks, Sweet Pea.”

“Okay, so Dad, my favorite Dad in the whole world, are you still my legal beagle?”

Foya, his 15-year-old, stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Shit, Ala, you are turning into a real publicity whore. I mean, you put us through enough last year with that school board crap. Give us a break.”

 “Dad, I admire you and Mom so much for having me after you had Foya. I think Foya would kill most parents’ enthusiasm for children—forever.”

Angola, the girl’s mother, and Lux’s wife, strides into the kitchen dressed for business success with a briefcase in her hand and a purse on her shoulder. “Hello, happy, sweet family.” Foya ducks her mother’s kiss. Ala offers up her cheek, and her husband attempts to prolong his kiss.

“Goodbye, wonderful ones.” She snatches her keys from the holder by the door to the garage.

Foya shouts. “Hey, Mom, Ala’s stirring up shit again. You don’t want to get blindsided like last time. You better check her out before you go.”

Angola freezes in place and slowly turns around. “Okay, this is an important day for me—but family is most important. What’s going on, Ala?”

Foya sneers. “It must be major shit. She needs Dad to be her attorney—again.

Angola glares at Foya. “Ala, I thought your campaign to get two students on the school board was a success, and all the strikes and demonstrations were over. I had hoped we would be back to normal or normal-like. What gives, Sweet Pea?”

“Mom, it’s not about the school board. It’s about equal rights, and I know you are a big supporter of equal rights, especially for women and—”

“Ala, get to the point.” Angola turns to Lux. “Do you know what this is about?” He shrugs.

Foya grins. “Yeah, Sweet Pea, spill the beans or peas or whatever. Inquiring minds want to know.”

Ala gives her sister the finger. “Okay, so, okay, there is going to be an equal rights demonstration today—”

Angola interrupts. “You aren’t blocking the hallways again or trapping the president in her office or—”

Ala snaps, “No, Mom—nothing like that. Dad, you fought for civil rights—”

“Honey, your mom has to get to work. I’m your attorney, okay? So, what the heck is happening that you need an attorney?”

Ala takes a deep breath, “Tam Kimora is leading a demonstration for equal rights, and I’m part of it.”

Angola pleads, “Please, why do you need an attorney—again?”

Foya points at her sister. “Damn straight. Answer the question, chump of the month. Isn’t Tam your frenemy?”

Lux gives Foya the evil eye.

Ala takes another deep breath. “Okay, okay—so, five of us girls are going to go into first-period topless to protest our unequal dress code. That’s it. That’s all.”

Angola drops her briefcase and stands speechless.

Foya burst into laughter.

Lux shakes his head in disbelief.

Ala hastily adds, “And five or six boys will be topless too, but you can’t depend on boys—”

Angola steps to Ala. “NO! No! No! You are a 12-year-old Black girl. Your life will be hard enough. You will not risk your future over this, this insane protest. You could be, no, should be expelled—no, never on our watch.”

Foya adds, “Dumbbell. Idiot girl, pictures of your boobs will be all over the school, the net, everywhere. They will never go away. You will never pass the bar with that kind of porn online.”

Ala shouts at Foya. “My breasts aren’t porn. Just like our faces and legs and arms aren’t porn. Boys have breasts too and—”

Angola cuts her off. “No! You will not do this. When you are 18, you—”

Ala turns to her father. “Dad, you protested and got arrested for breaking barriers and—”

Lux shakes his head. “Honey, I think this is a different—how many girls would even want this equal right if they had it?”

“Dad, hiding our breasts makes seeing them porn to some people.” She glares at her sister. “The school dress code makes our breasts and us, all girls, into porn. And showing our breasts is a crime. How is that fair? You jog without a shirt. That’s not a crime for you. That’s the point, not how many would be topless, okay?”

Angola grabs Ala by the shoulder. “No topless today. No topless tomorrow. You got it, Ala?”

Ala looks her mother in her eyes. “Mom, I gave my word I would protest. I won’t let my friends down, Mom.”

Angola turns to Lux.

Lux turns to Ala. “Ala, would you go to your room while we discuss this.”

Angola snarls. “There is no discussion necessary. You will not be topless at school ever!”

Ala is in tears as she responds. “Mom, I don’t want to be porn or a criminal for doing what any boy can—”

Lux stands and puts his hand on Ala’s shoulder. “Listen to me. I’m your attorney. Go take a break.” He pushes her gently toward the door. She stumbles out, wiping her eyes.

Foya waits until she hears her sister’s door slam before she speaks.

“You guys have a weird ass child there, boy. Shit! You stuck me with that for a sister.”

Angola glares at Foya. “You need to concentrate on your own issues, sister. And you have plenty. I’m already late. I have to go.”

Lux says, “Wait. If she goes to school, she will do this topless thing. We all know that. Last year she held out against her school, the school board, and the State Board of Education and shut down her school for a week.”

Angola sighs, “Keep her home today. Foya, you stay home with her.”

“Mom, I’m not going to be her jailer. You stay home with her.”

Angola growls. “What did you say to me? You had better watch that smart mouth of yours.”

Lux steps between them. “The delaying game won’t work. The locking-her-in strategy won’t work for long. She eventually goes to school and bares her breasts. How do we minimize the harm to her, and do we punish her? I mean, we want her to act on principles and to be courageous. And she’s all that.”

“Lux, honey, she must live by our rules. Shit, we all have to follow some damn rules sometimes. Lux, she’s just a baby. Oh, God, I’m not ready for this—again.”

They are quiet for a few minutes.

Foya finally speaks. “I hate her. Most of the time, I hate her. Fuck Ala!”

Lux asks, “Why do you hate your sister?”

Foya is crying and unaware of it. “Because I should be leading her. I’m her big sister, but she’s leading all of us. Fuck it!” Foya looks surprised at the tears falling on her feet. “I know you guys wish I were more like Ala. A leader and shit.”

Lux chuckles. “Are you out of your mind? One Ala is more than we can handle. Right, honey?”

Angola forces a smile. “Amen to that. Foya, you don’t need to be like anyone else. You can—”

“Bullshit! Ala is fucking right about the sexualization of women’s breasts. And she was right about student representation on the school board. Fuck it! If she does it, I will be right by her crazy ass with my proud boobs on display.”

Angola speaks softly. “Bullshit! Back to you. I can punish your sorry ass, and I will.”

Foya laughs. “Dad, will you be my lawyer too? Or is that a conflict of interest?”

Lux looks at his watch. “Whatever you need, Foya. You have a mother and father that try to understand you two, but we don’t always succeed. Foya, we know you have been drinking and smoking pot—a lot.”

“Really?” Foya opens the refrigerator and removes three beers. “Well, this is going to be a long ass day. Let’s start it with the breakfast of champions.” She hands her parents each a beer.

Angola sighs and turns to her husband. “We have lost it. We have lost control of everything, haven’t we?”

“Honey, I don’t know if we ever had more than an illusion of control.”

Foya adds, “Isn’t that what Ala is all about, us taking control of the narratives of our lives? And here we are, trying to stop her. What’s wrong with that picture?”

Angola shakes her head in frustration. “She’s not White. The world is so unforgiving for Black girls.”

Foya nods in agreement. “God, that’s why I love her fearless ass.”

Lux picks up his phone and calls Ala back to the kitchen.

Foya smiles. “Let’s drink up before Ala fucking bans alcohol in the house.”

They toast to, losing control.

Frederick K Foote

Image: Pixabay.com – Black gender symbols on a white background