“Did someone say queer?” Zihan said, popping up between us.
“The two of you are mad, you know!” I told them. “Going back there at a time like this?”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Jay said. “They’re going to say we’re lovers no matter what we do, so why don’t we just—” He paused and watched me as if I’d finish the sentence.
Why don’t we justwhat?I could only shrug. Like Jay, I had a desire to rebel and break expectations, to dare the world to snipe me for living my truth. But that truth was so muddied, so unclear to me, that I didn’t even know where to begin sharing it.
“There are several we could try around 139th,” Zihan said. “Let’s go, just to see what it’s like tonight.”
I had fun at The Green Lightwhen we went before but not enough. I was on board because I was not one to stop a chain of fun. Besides, the sunset and the thought of the upcoming dance brought the hope I’d find romance in the summer, not with astranger but with someone I knew.
“Okay, let’s go to The Green Light,” I said, and Jay instantly looked satisfied I’d accepted his rebellious energy again. “What else is there for a bunch of outcasts to do?”
And so, we continued our night at the speakeasy in that alley by the water. Its walls were all awash in green light, giving the environment a feel that was much older than we were.
This time I did not sit on the sidelines. I danced with Zihan some, and then I turned back to Jay. A girl was throwing herself into his lap near the serving counter. I understood her choice—Jay was one of the most handsome men in Harlem. Muscular without being intimidating. Big in a pretty way.
They leaned in close, voices dropping to whispers. Only I caught the subtle doubt in Jay’s expression—the crease in his eyebrows, the way his eyes darted away every few seconds as if he was worried she’d see something she wasn’t meant to. He was carefully plotting with her, his smiles and winks hiding sheer terror. I’d begun to uncover the story underneath, but still there was so much more to find. If only I didn’t have to share him with the rest of the world.
“Do you like him truly?” a voice said behind me. It was Zihan, his eyes safe and curious.
“No.” I shook my head. “Yes, I mean—he’s nice. Of course.”
“He is a swell guy. Always very nice. But you share more with each other; I can tell.”
I simply didn’t know what to say.
“Come,” Zihan said, with a tender smile. He took me by thewrist, and we escaped behind the stage curtain to a dressing room with theater mirrors.
“Are we supposed to be in here?” I asked.
Some female impersonators sat on stools, their feet on the vanities. Others danced to music or stretched. Their fingernails gleamed, and their painted mouths hummed along with the tunes. There was a regal woman with a big old blue wig, fixing herself up in a mirror. The floor was covered with glitter and sequins.
“You know what you need?” Zihan said and picked up some green nail polish from an unmanned vanity, shaking it up.
“Green?”
“It would work for you.”
I shook my head. “It’s hard enough for me in school. Someone sees me in that, they’ll kill me.”
“Okay!” he said, putting down the polish and pulling a little skirt down from a clothes rack. “Start smaller.”
“Why?” I asked. “What’s the purpose of this?”
“Becoming more comfortable with yourself will allow you to become comfortable telling Jay how you feel.”
I’d first have to tell myself how I felt. About all of this—people knowing that I had been secretly forming a bond with Jay. This idea ofowning the narrativeof my queerness held no power for me. It asked more than I was willing to offer, demanded a spotlight I had no desire to stand beneath.
But everyone here was doing girls’ clothing too. That made me feel both under- and overdressed in my cotton pants, as if itwould be more natural to experiment here than to hold on to my comfortable ways.
I went behind a dressing screen and tried the skirt. I didn’t know why I was doing it. I only felt half in control of my actions. But to my surprise, it provided an odd but comforting breeze on my legs. Something about it was freeing. It felt like I’d shed a layer of expectation.
I wouldn’t step out from behind the screen, but Zihan came around to look at me.
“You look like a princess!” he said, with a big smile—not one of ridicule but one of celebration. “Phenomenal!”
I laughed quietly and ran my fingers along the hem of the skirt, feeling its fabric against my skin, and for a moment, I wanted to see myself. But the thought of facing that reflection was scary. Could I even bear to see myself like this? Back in Oklahoma, something like this would have been impossible! I would’ve never dared! People would’ve crushed me, cast me out!
