Sadie and I laugh, and then Imani gives in to a laugh too. And it feels like old times, when we would walk 125th Street and try on things and take them off, swapping them with one another, saying, this would look better on you or let me try that on. We keep walking, making our way down to see the rest of the vendors. It feels like we’re breaking some kind of rule walking in the middle of the street. I’ve always loved street fairs; besides the funnel cakes and shopping, there’s a vibe that makes me feel unrestricted, free.
After we get to the end, we make our way back to the main stage just before the program begins. Ms. Lori takes the stage first and says a few words—first thanking the sponsors of the event, and then she says, “Before we get back to the music, food, and activities, I’d love for you to hear from our young people today. They are the force behind planning this event, and they truly care about our community. I am so positive, so very sure that these young people will be leading the way in years to come. Please show them some looove.” Ms. Lori calls on the core planning team to say something at the microphone.
First Tye and Asher. Asher just waves to the crowd and lets Tye speak. Tye keeps it short, thanking everyone for coming out. Then Imani steps up and thanks Ms. Lori for her mentorship and then encourages people to take all this energy with them, back to their homes and work spaces. “Please take the time to read all the handouts you’re getting today and challenge yourself to put some new things into practice,” she says.
Toya is last. She takes the mic, and she talks longer than any of them. “Dr. King said, ‘It really boils down to this: that all life is interrelated.’ This means, everything you do or don’t do for the Earth impacts another person. This means it is important to not only take care of yourself, but to make sure your neighbor has what they need.”
When she says this, there are a few people who snap in the air like they are at a poetry café. Some of the older people actually say amen. Toya continues . . . on and on and on. She quotes James Baldwin and Chimamanda Adichie and Fannie Lou Hamer and Shirley Chisholm. She is a book of quotes; everything out of her mouth makes the audience cheer or clap. I can see her one day preaching or lecturing and inspiring people to be more and do more than they ever thought possible.
I am irritated, inspired, and intimidated by Toya. Yeah, all three pretty equally. Not a good feeling.
Toya stands on the stage taking in all the applause and cheering, like she knows she deserves it. Then, she looks at me and smiles, real big. “Before we turn it back to the DJ, I just want to acknowledge our honorary Inspire Harlem member. She came out today just to help and volunteer even though she is not a part of the program. She even helped our team leader, Tye, with some of the ideas for today. Let’s welcome Nala Robertson.” She waves me to the stage.
I do not move. At all.
“Don’t be shy,” she says. “Come say a few words.”
The audience is clapping and waiting and waiting. Tye takes my hand and walks me to the stage. My feet are disobeying my mind. All the good sense I have is saying, do not go up there. But somehow here I am, standing on a stage in front of hundreds of people. When Toya hands me the mic, she smiles at me and then cuts her eyes so fiercely that my soul bleeds.
My hand is shaking, and when I open my mouth, nothing comes out. Imani can’t even look at me—she is literally holding on to Asher with her head buried in his chest. I clear my throat, try to speak.
Nothing.
Nala, get it together. Just thank everyone for being here. That’s it. That’s all I have to do. But Tye already did that, and besides, after a talk like Toya’s I’ve got to say something powerful, something moving.
Quotes.
Toya’s remarks were mostly other people’s words—not her own. That’s when people really got revved up. I think maybe the best speeches are when the speaker says the words other people have already spoken. I think and think of inspirational quotes I can recite. I stutter out the first thing that comes to mind. “Um . . . good afternoon. I, um, I agree with everything that’s already been said. It’s, um . . . it’s important to get involved in our community and to learn about what’s happening around the world—especially, um, especially People of Color and especially girls, because, I mean—um, who runs the world? Girls!”
No one claps.
“That’s, um, that’s what Beyoncé says. Girls . . . run the world. But we can’t run the world if we, um, if we destroy our world. So we have to take care of it, love the Earth, you know?”
Nothing from the audience. Just the sound of a siren moaning in the background and maybe laughter from some of the Inspire Harlem members. Even still, I can’t stop myself. I just keep talking and talking and I don’t even know what I am saying. It’s as if every song I know just comes to mind and somehow ends up coming out of my mouth. “Because there’s a lot happening in the world. You know? I’m sure you’re all like me, looking at this world and seeing the effects of climate change, and, um, all the movements happening—Black Lives Matter, the Me Too movement, Say Her Name . . . and, um, you’re all wondering, like Marvin Gaye—what’s going on?”
No one claps or nods or snaps or says amen. Instead the opposite happens. People start heading back to the carts to get food, and some people walk away, like actually leave. But still, I keep talking. By the end, I’ve reverted to some cliché quote about dreams and change and trying your best. And then, finally, the DJ rescues me by cutting me off and saying, “Yes, yes, that’s right. Come on and put your hands together for our young budding activist . . .” She plays a song I don’t know that gets the crowd dancing.
I put the mic back on the stand and run off the stage—the opposite side of where Tye is standing. I don’t say goodbye to him or anyone else. I walk home, fast as I can. As soon as I am in the house, Aunt Ebony asks, “How did it go?” but I don’t answer her. I just run upstairs, go in my room, hide.
Imani doesn’t care that I am already in bed when she gets home. She comes into my room without knocking and starts with, “What is going on with you? Like really—what was that today?”
“I don’t feel like talking—”
“Oh, we are definitely talking. You are not going to embarrass me like that and then act like it’s no big deal.”
“Embarrass you? I embarrassed myself, Imani.” I don’t turn over to face her. I am still in my bed, lying on my side, back to the door.
“Well, I couldn’t tell,” Imani says. “I mean, you just kept going on and on. Were you trying to make fun of our program? Of Toya? Of all the hard work we do?”
I sit up, lean against my headboard. “No, I wasn’t trying to make fun of Inspire Harlem. Everything isn’t about you and Toya, you know.” My room is dark, and I am surprised Imani doesn’t turn the light on. But I am glad. Talking with her like this, not having to really see her, makes it easier. Right now we are just shadows, just ghosts of ourselves.
Imani sits at the foot of my bed. “You’re changing.”
“I thought you’d be happy. Haven’t you always wanted me to be more socially conscious?”