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“Whatever, Raheem,” Heaven heard her huff. “Fuck you. Whatever bitch you out there fucking; keep fucking her. All the shit I’ve done for you and you can’t even send me a few fuckin’ dollars? You ain’t shit. I hope that bitch you screwing is lovin’ the dick . . . black motherfucker! Yeah, yeah, okay, whatever . . . like I said, fuck. You.”
“Arrrrgh!” She slid off her bunk, then handed Heaven the cellphone back. “I can’t believe that motherfucker hung up on me. I should have let them fry his ass. But, no—I take the weight because I’m supposed to be his ride-or-die bitch. Ugh! All the shit I’ve do
ne for his black ass, and he—”
Heaven cut her off. “Um, let me ask you something. What part of the game makes you think it’s okay for you to refer to him as nigga?”
Sabina blinked. “Excuse you?”
“I said what makes you think it’s okay for you to call him a nigga?”
Sabina’s eyes widened, her face turning pink. “I didn’t call him a nigger.”
Heaven’s nose flared. “I didn’t say you called him that. I know what you called him. Don’t play stupid, Sabina. What I want to know is, why?”
“That’s how we talk,” she stated, shrugging. “If he isn’t bothered by it, why are you? I’m not racist if that’s what you’re implying. I have lots of black friends. That’s all I hang with.”
Heaven’s lids flapped open and shut several times. “Oh, so you only hang with blacks so that makes you black by proxy, is that it?”
Sabina huffed. “Bitch, I didn’t say that. All I’m saying is, I’m not a racist. So don’t make me out to be one. And as far as I’m concerned, I talk to my man however I want to.”
Heaven sneered. “I didn’t say shit about you being racist. But don’t think because all you fuck are black men and smoke and drink and chill with a bunch of black women that it’s okay for you to use that word.”
Sabina rolled her eyes, her hand flying up on her hip. “Why? Because I’m white?”
Heaven tilted her head. “Exactly.”
“Ohmygod! What does the color of my skin have to do with anything? I’m from the hood too.”
Heaven gave her an incredulous look. “Bitch, being from the hood and spreading your legs, fucking black men doesn’t give you some free pass to let the word nigga fall from your damn lips. I don’t care in what context you used it.”
“Oh, bitch, please,” Sabina snapped back. “You’re blowing shit waaaay outta context. Why is it okay for other blacks to call each other that, but someone who identifies with the culture, can’t because they’re white?”
Heaven stared her down. “Trick, the only thing you identify with is the whole ‘once you go black, you don’t go back’ slogan.”
“Unh-uh, bitch. Answer the damn question. Why can’t I—a white chick—use the word in the same context as blacks use it? It’s not said as a diss to what black men have gone through—what they still go through. It’s just a damn word; it’s not that damn serious.”
Heaven felt like hopping up and slapping her around the cell. She tucked her hands under her thighs and sat still in fear she’d leap up and claw her tongue out. “Because obviously, bitch, you don’t know shit about what the black man has gone through. So, no, bitch. If you want to call your white men that publicly, then do so. But—around me, don’t use that word, referring to anyone with the same color skin as me. Period.”
What she really wanted to say was, “You white bitches start fucking black men and think your asses are the damn door prize.” But the truth was, she truly didn’t care whom white women, or any other woman, fucked as long as it wasn’t her man. And she didn’t care how another woman talked to her black man. She could call him as many black motherfuckers and niggas as she wanted. But she didn’t need to hear it.
Sabina stared her down, eyes wide and wild. Her whole body shook from the inside out. She wasn’t in the mood for this bitch’s self-righteous bullshit.
Heaven stared back. “Bitch, move along. Don’t fucking look at me.”
“Kiss my”—she tooted her backside and slapped it—“white ass, bitch!” Then she snatched down the privacy curtain and stormed out the cell.
“Yeah, whatever, Becky,” Heaven yelled at her retreating back. “And the black motherfucker ain’t even your man! So go fuck yourself!”
FORTY-SEVEN
Yeah, I Said It . . .
“So, like really, dude,” Sabina scoffed, standing in front of her—arms folded, head tilted—blocking Heaven’s view of the television. “So you’re really still not speaking to me?”
Heaven stared at her. “Hell no, I’m not speaking to your ass,” she snapped. They hadn’t spoken since their nasty argument almost a week ago. Both women basically ignored the other, while trying to stay out of the other’s way (utterly ridiculous considering how tiny their cell was). “Now move the hell from the television.”
Sabina rolled her neck. “Absoooolutely, not. Not until we clear the air.” She stabbed a finger in the air at her. “You had no goddamn right talking to me the way you did. I felt disrespected. And to even suggest that I’m racist was fucking ridiculous and hurtful.”
