PAPER

GINGER

My mama named me Ginger because she said I was a clean slate. A new chapter. She ate a lot of sushi when she was pregnant with me. That's what you do, I think, with sushi. You eat ginger to clean your taste buds when you try a new fish or something like that I heard. I'm not much of a sushi eater. But I like the name ok. Ginger. I like it ok enough to keep it. In the early nineties when my friends were taking on African and other created names like Shabazz and Future and Dream I was cool with Ginger.


I been driving around picking up and dropping off product. It's just after eight and I'm finally home. I'm kind of like a knick knack lady. I have a good eye for funky things and sometimes I spruce 'em up a little. Like I might find an old clay vase at a thrift store or something. I'll pick it up if it's in good shape and take it home and add some umph to it like a little abstract design or touch it up with some paint here and there. Purses are my thing though. I go all over and find old purses and sometimes I spruce them up too. I sell my stuff on Facebook, Instagram, Etsy, out my truck. Sometimes I vend at some of the Farmer's Markets around town. Not too much these days though since COVID. Slowly things are opening back up but shit I got so used to doin' without 'em I'm happier on my own. Tell the truth I don't miss all that settin' up and takin' down and paying booth fees and barely breaking even. I'm good on my own. Business wise that is. My personal life is a different story.

Don't get me wrong now, ain't nobody singing no sad love songs over here. I love having my own space. Ain't nothin' like it. I have a niece who stays with me part time. Part time with me, part time with her boyfriend. I'm about to put an end to all the in and out though. She twenty-six and it's about time she got her living shit together. She my heart though. Her mama died when she was only seven and she been with me since then. Where else was she gon go? Her mama, Ray was my big sister. Ray was adopted when she was in the womb. Doctors always told my mama she couldn't have kids of her own and Ray's mom and my mom used to work together at the phone company. Ray's mom was only a baby herself when she got pregnant by a married man whose last name she never knew. She wanted to have an abortion but my mom and dad said they would take the baby and they did. They did good by her too. Three years later as life and luck would have it, my mama got pregnant with me. My dad always suspected I wasn't really his but he never got no test or nothin' like that though. He used to say all the time though, "You ain't my blood but you my baby." That's a fucked up thing to say to a child all her life but, you know, family. He always favored my sister Ray over me though. Her mama was Mexican and her daddy was Black and you know how some men are about a biracial bitch with straight hair and brown skin. I ain't no mixed chick. Don't get it twisted though. I love all this good chocolate. Love this wild kinky hair, these big ass lips and every other black ass thing on my black ass body. Fergi look a lot like her mama. Her hair is real curly though and skin a lot darker but she sure is her mama's child. I wish Ray could see her now. When I got in tonight I saw her computer and her big bag is gone so I guess her and Clark back cool. Whatever. If she like it I love it. She about to make a choice though. Fuck all this in and out shit lettin' in all the goddamn flies.

First thing I do when I get in my place is turn the air on. L.A. been hot thanna mug the past two weeks. I let it blow for maybe an hour then crank these fans up. DWP ain't gon take all my money. Damn I'm tired. Been working like a runaway and seem like the end of the month comin' faster than my money. It's all good though. This bitch gon be straight. With the bills that is. Been kinda missin' male energy though. You know? Not dick. This bitch find dick. But...you know...a nigga sittin' up with me, talkin', watchin' Hulu and eatin' pizza or listenin' to a book or just lookin' at the fuckin' walls together. FUCK! This bitch got friends, don't trip. Good male friends too but sometimes you want a dude that think you sexy next to you on yo couch. You know? It's cool though. You know? This bitch gon be ok. This bitch good.




NINA

It's Nina. Like the number nine with an a. No one ever gets it right. They always say Neena. Of course they would. Who would think nine a? My father was an artist and named me after his grandfather. You thought I was going to say his mother or grandmother or some woman, but no. I'm not sober right now so maybe this will be weird. I don't know.

Wednesday is beach day. That's where I am. Every Wednesday I see my therapist and then I drive out to the beach. I never get out of the car though. I park on PCH and Sunset and sit in my car with a quesadilla from my favorite taco truck and a six pack of wine coolers. I know right. Who drinks wine coolers anymore? I do. Apple. I sit here on Wednesdays and I eat Mexican food and eat snacks and smoke a joint. I watch the waves. I lean the seat back. Sometimes I listen to music. Sometimes a podcast. Today it's Oprah interviewing Whoopi Goldberg. You know Whoopi has a daughter and a grandchild? How didn't I know that?

I don't exactly see my therapist these days. Haven't for months since the shut down. We talk on the phone now. She calls at two and we talk as I'm driving out here. No more Oprah. Ice Cube time. I like Oprah though. Know what I like about Oprah? All the time she's been in the public eye she ain't been parading a slew of bitches in front of us. She keeps her circle small. There's been what? Gail. Um...Gail. Stedman. And Gail. I feel that. "First you was down with the AK and now I see you on the video with Michelle..." Get it Cube. I learned that lesson way too late. Why I'm in therapy now. I was the ugly girl in school. They used to call ugly girls mudducks. 'Member that? I was a mudduck. I wasn't ugly ugly. I just wasn't cute cute. I was a below average looking girl trying to be cute and trying to fit in with the cute girls and get the cute boys to like me. That's what made me mudduck. I didn't know my place. I told my best friend, Reese that Malcolm touched my booty in the 100 hall before first period and she musta told somebody because it got back to him. On the bus after school he mushed my face real hard and yelled for everybody to hear "Don't nobody wanna touch yo flat ass booty! Big nose ass ho!" What could I say?

Shit! Shit! Shit! My daddy is gone. He's dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Last thing I said to him was that he was dead to me. You believe that? Believe I could say something like that to my own father? I loved my father. More than I ever loved anyone in this world. One time in Mrs. Hampton's Sunday school class when I was a little girl she said "Always remember to put Jesus first. Jesus comes before anybody." I raised my hand and said "My daddy comes first. Jesus can come second if he want to." He's gone now. You know how I found out? On Instagram. His wife posted his picture and tagged me. Ain't that some shit? Ain't it?




GINGER

Y'all ain't gon believe this! Y'all ain't! So I was on one of my adventures again yesterday lookin' for some good finds. Y'all know a bitch be scavengerin' these streets for some comeups to sell right? I told you purses is my shit but a bitch take what a bitch get. Anyway, I pulled into the Ralphs in Culver City in that shopping center on Venice 'cause I had to boo boo so bad and I was like, God, please don't let a bitch boo boo on herself! Why it was hella cars in that lot so I had to park over by that Tuesday Morning and guess what? Why they was straight havin' a everything must go sale? So I was like, bet. Imma go up in Ralphs right quick and then hit them up when I come out.

I'm almost in the store and this white dude come up to me and I know he finna ask me for some money and sure enough he do. He was like, do I got some money for him and his sisters nim 'cause they just got evicted and they was tryina get back to Texas and his sister baby ain't got no food and do I wanna come to the van to meet them and I was like, "Dude, I'm so sorry but I ain't got no cash but I feel you. Do you got cash app though 'cause I can slide you somethin' that way?" He steady walkin' wit' me and say he ain't got cash app and ain't got no phone neither but could I please go to the ATM in the store. I was like, bet. He still talkin' though. Talkin' 'bout did I hear about that police officer killin' that Black dude and how bad it is in the streets and if he had some money and somebody came up to him and needed it then he would gon give them like a hundred dollars. So we get to the door but he can't come in 'cause he ain't have no mask. I'm thinkin', you ain't gotta tell me how bad it is in the streets and can't tell me nothin' about white cops and Black people. Like this shit new. White mothafuckas always go a step too far when they tryina bond with Black people. Plus, where he fucked up was was tryina guilt me into givin' him and his pretend ass sisters a c note.

Anyway, I get to the bathroom then look around for the green drinks and a little snack or somethin'. Can't find the green drinks nowhere. I see this worker stockin' chips or somethin' so I ask him where the drinks at. Why he turn to me like I just shot his dog talkin' 'bout, "I wouldn't know that! I don't work here!" Ok muthafucka, damn! So I find them shits on my own and get in line. I see the white boy still at the door so I get cash back, walk out and hand him a dub. Why he look at it then look back at me like he mad it ain't more? He better be lucky I ain't take it back. Like a bitch phone bill ain't due. That's why I don't fuck with Culver City. Even the white homeless people on some shit.

I remember Tuesday Morning and they sale though so I'm cool again. I'm walkin' kinda fast hoping they got some good stuff. I'm going up and down and the sale is hella good and the stuff is bomb. If I was you I would go up in there quick because them shelves is finna all be bare. Anyway, I'm lookin' and lookin' and I see this mud cloth and I was like, ok Tuesday Morning I see you! So I put it in my cart and keep lookin'. Nigga! I don't know what the fuck I ate that got me havinta go to the bathroom so bad and so many times but why alla sudden I gotta boo boo again? So I'm standin' still squeezin' my booty cheeks together starin' all hard at the shot glasses like I'm thinkin' about buyin' one. Like I give a damn about a shot glass. About thirty seconds go by and I'm cool to walk again. Why I turn the corner and over there by the suitcases and the toys it's like a ganga cotton! Like straight up cotton on the branches. I'm thinkin' thata be dope on my dresser but then I'm thinkin', you know what...nope. A bitch is not finna give Tuesday Morning $6.99 for some cotton my ancestors picked. Nope. Nope. Then I'm like, they got some good stuff but I'm cool with the mud cloth and walk to the line.

Ok now you finna trip! Guess who was in line with a bitch at Tuesday Morning? Andre Braugher! That actor from...from...damn, from all them lil movies. A bitch straight had a crush on him! We all in these hot ass masks but I still knew it was him. I was like, damn! He still fine too. I mean, we all older and fatter and that's cool. So I look around to see what white woman he with and bam. No. White. Bitches. So I pull out my phone to see if I see him on Instagram and there he is. It's mostly pictures of him on show sets. Ok I see you, Andre, keepin' it business and that only mean one thing right. He gotta a white bitch on the low so I Google him 'cause Google give a fuck. Theya tell it. I look up and he like eleventh in line and I'm like fifteenth and that's like a lowkey sign 'cause four my favorite number. I pull him up and he married so I click on her name, Ami somebody, and she a sista. I was like, heeey! So right then I decide a bitch not gon shoot her shot on a sista man. But I'm on my Rakim right now thinkin' of a master plan on how I'm gon at least get some kinda convo or somethin'. And of course now the line tryina move fast. But look at God! The people between me and him was together and one of 'em had like a coughin' spell and these ain't the times to be coughin' in public. Why she didn't step out of line by herself I don't know but all three of 'em was like, fuck it, we a just go. Bet. So I move up and he turn to me and say, "I hope she's alright." I was like, "I know, me too." But really, that bitch was good. Then I twist my neck a little and say, "Wait, are you...Andre um..." Like I can't remember his name. A bitch is not tryina look thirsty. "Braugher. Yes, it's me." We both got on masks but you know how you can tell in somebody face that they be smilin'? Then I tell him I like his work and then we talk about how hot it is and he like my mud cloth and I like his bowls. By now the cashier callin' him and the next one callin' me. He finish first and say it was nice to meet me but he didn't get my name and I was like whaaaat and I tell him. Then just like that we out the store.

It didn't end in no love connection or nothin' like that but that was cool though right? Lil celebrity sighting in line and shit. I was like, ok God I see you. Maybe it was a sign. Sign about what I don't know. But somethin'. Hell I a take somethin'. I take anything good right now.




GERALD

I'm getting tired of L.A. Big cities period. Truth is I'm tired of living in this country. Been wonderin' how it would be to live by the water in somewhere like Ghana. I don't know anything about Ghana though. Except what I learned in school which ain't much. There has to be more to life than this hustle and bustle. Feel like everyday it's some kinda fight. Some challenge. Just walking to the store is some kinda test waitin'. Older I get the more I believe I'm living on lucky time. And I ain't never much believed in luck. I was on the Crenshaw bus two days ago on my way home after one of the worst days of my fifty-four years. Found a seat next to a pretty sista that smelled good. Let my head hit the glass and finally closed my eyes for the short ride I had. Lil knucklehead across from me mean muggin'. How you mean mug somebody with a fuckin' mask on? He stare at me long enough 'til I finally give him some attention then he say, "What set you from, blood?" I take a long deep breath and wish I was livin' in some small house out in Ghana and say, "Homie, my name is Gerald. How many niggas you know name Gerald bang?"

You know what I'm the most tired of? I'm tired of feeling like I won the lottery just because I made it home and I have a little food and some clean clothes for the next day. I'm thankful. Thankful for everything I have. Black folks so used to nothin' we don't expect nothin' more than one more breath. I want more. More than the next breath. A little money. Pile of books and a bag of tools. I want more than a 911 life. You know what I mean? Every minute I'm awake I'm on high alert. For once in my life I wanna exhale and let that breath take as long as it needs to take. Every other corner somebody sellin' those I can't breathe shirts. All respect to my brother George and I understand what they tryin' to say but...I don't know, I can't stamp that on my chest when all I wanna do is breathe. In and out. In and out. Real slow. Then sleep so good and wake up the next morning and the first thing on my mind be figurin' out what I wanna do that day. I don't wanna think about money. Except who I can bless with it.

I'm a builder. Always been real good with my hands. I can't explain the blessing but I can build or fix almost anything. I can play the piano and guitar too. Never been taught. Just can. I wasn't no good in school so I stopped going. Wasn't 'til I was twenty years old I found out I had dyslexia. I see numbers and letters different than other people. In school they just thought I was lazy and I got lost in the shuffle. Got lost in the shuffle at home too. I have seven brothers and sisters and I'm number four. I'm still close to my two sisters and their kids but not my brothers. Not my mom and pops neither. I was a Jehova's witness growing up but that wasn't the life I wanted for myself as a man. At least when I thought I was a man. For me that was at sixteen. I had stopped going to school and was spending my days and nights locked up in the garage fixing radios, building bookcases and little boxes out of wood. I used to call 'em treasure boxes. Pops was like, I need to do somethin' with my life and live by his rules or go find a home of my own so that's what I did. Never really looked back. Ain't been no easy road at all. I'm here though. I'm here. Know what? I still make treasure boxes too. All different sizes. I paint 'em real nice and some I give away and some I even sell. My sister got twin daughters, Avery and Daisy. They finna turn sixteen in a couple weeks and they love anything I make so I made one for each of them. Two big boxes 'cause I want them to fill 'em with all kinda treasures. I told you I could do anything with my hands right. When my nieces were little I used to braid their hair! I sure did. I had never braided no hair before but I braided theirs. I don't mean no regular cornrows going back. Naw man, I used to braid braid they hair! I put them long Janet Jackson braids in they hair. I had 'em lookin' good too. I know dudes don't be doin' that. Not no straight dudes anyway but I was nice with it. My sister, Ruth had paid all this money for they hair one day I guess they was about nine or ten and it looked ok 'til she told me how much she paid. I was temporarily sleepin' on her couch back then and I told her don't never spend no money like that on no braids 'cause I would handle it. At first she thought I was sayin' that I would pay instead of her but naw, she know me better than that. I got real close to my nieces during that time too. Real close. My sister's kids are like my kids. I never had none of my own but they mine. The twins plus my other sister got a daughter too. She twenty-three now. She a rapper and go by Coin.

I'm home now and I'm gon sit here on my couch with all the windows open. Gon smoke a cigar and eat a burger. Gon listen to some music and maybe fall asleep. Good sleep too I hope. I shole need good sleep 'cause this ain't been my week. Not my week at all.




DARE EARLY

Everyone says DareEarly like it's one name. My full name is Dare Sky Patricia Early. I don't know where Dare or Sky came from but Patricia is my mother. I'm named after her, but somewhere in the middle. I'm a strange pickle. That's what they called me in college, strange pickle. Truth is, I'm not so strange. Technically, I'm schizophrenic and bipolar. Second thought, maybe strange pickle sounds better. People don't back off and judge pickles, strange or not like they do when they know you have a mental disorder. I'm not on meds. Not anymore. Not ever again. Hate the way they make me feel. So sometimes I go off a little bit. A lot really. I'm not as out of touch as people think though. I hear what I hear and I see what I see. Because everyone doesn't see it why am I the one that's wrong? Some days I'm clear though. What you call clear anyway. That's me today.

I'm sitting at some park in Carson. I just ended up here. I hop on buses a lot and get off when cops come on. Cops, intruders, thieves. Or sometimes I see somewhere I never been and I wanna sit there for a minute. Like today. This park. It's pretty and it's early in the morning and there are no children here. I love parks. I love sitting on the grass. I don't like parks with children. Makes me think too much. Guess you guessed I had a child. Not had. Have. Stella Rose. I know what you're thinking. But she's not named after a drink. Stella was my big sister and the woman who loved me the most in this world. Rose is my favorite flower. When I get scared I close my eyes and see a garden of roses I breathe a little better. Stella taught me that when I was thirteen. She hold me by my face and say, "See it DareEarly. See it. See that garden with all those pretty roses. Focus on just one rose. Smell it. Don't it smell good?" I don't know if it was her hands on my face or the sound of her voice or the roses in my head or all put together, but I was better after that. For a while anyway. Stella's gone now. Not dead. Locked up and thrown away in prison. Been there for twenty-six years for something she didn't do. Everybody in prison is innocent though, right? Stella didn't do it though. I did and she's the one locked up. She told me never to come see her. Don't write her letters. Don't say nothing. Never. To nobody. So I don't.

Stella Rose is with Theresa. She's better off with her. I'm not so nice to the people I love the most when I'm off. I can't help it. Theresa can't understand why I won't take the meds and stay on 'em. She says I love being sick more than I love her and Stella Rose but that's not true. After the last time Theresa took my baby and moved away somewhere I can't get to 'em. Every now and then she emails me pictures. Maybe she shouldn't though. It don't make me feel better. But I know she's safe so that's good. That's all I want for myself, to be somewhere safe. I don't even know what that feels like. To be somewhere and feel safe. I never felt that way. Never. It's hard for me to even be in one place long. I gotta keep moving. Gotta always be moving. You know what it's like to look over your shoulder your whole life? I do. Imagine you know someone's coming and nobody believes you. Imagine all the running you do and when you think you good and hidden you hear them in your head. Over and over. Sometimes a whisper. Sometimes a scream.

I do what I can for money. At night I go to twenty-four hour Korean spas downtown. Sometimes I go to the hospital. I don't see a doctor or nothin' and I only go there when it rains or I don't have money for the spa. All the spas are closed now. This virus done stopped the world. At night, when I can take it and can't find a good place to sleep I go to the emergency room at Harbor General and tell the nurse that my stomach hurts a little. County hospitals are always so crowded ain't no doctor gon get to you until the next morning and by then I'm gone anyway. The nurses there know me now and they know I'm alright. Tears though. Got a lot of tears lately. Just got grief over the whole world the way it is. Man said to me other day, "Why you so sad?" And he stood there too and waited for an answer. I looked at him, put my hand over my heart and say, "Why ain't you?"




SETH

I'm apartment hunting today. I'm gonna settle on somewhere this week because I'm tired of looking and I wanna just be somewhere. I've narrowed my choices down to a two bedroom apartment in Leimert Park or a three bedroom house I looked at the other day in Windsor Hills. Wait, there was also that condo in Inglewood. If I were to purchase property it would be a condo. I was never that guy who mowed lawns and repaired shutters or needed a garage. I don't even have a car. I can't even drive. I grew up a home schooled, Beverly Hills rich kid. I'm twenty-three years old living off a trust fund. Thanks to my grandfather, I have more money than I'll ever spend in my lifetime. I'm Seth Baker, boy multimillionaire.

I hear your brains ticking. What am I doing down here? Why don't I just take my half white ass back up to Beverly Hills? My best friend, Brandon's been asking me the same thing. Well, recently ex best friend. A guy can only give his white friends a pass so many times before that guy and his passes become part of the problem. I was having dinner at Brandon's house last week when his dad goes in about "those thugs and terrorists in BLM." Then he keeps going on and on and on and "those people" this and "never satisfied" and "broken homes" that and he just would not fucking stop. It's like he was digging and digging daring me to say something. This prick is getting off on how uncomfortable he was making me until I finally just gave him what he was asking for. Fuck it. Brandon's mom, Penny said it was best if I left. Not like I wasn't leaving on my own. Then Brandon! Fucking asshole Brandon is sitting there all surprised like he didn't know his dad was a racist dick. We fucking talk about it all the time. He's always talking about how the next time he gets on one of his porch monkey rants he's gonna finally let him have it. That's what he called it too, "porch monkey rants." Said that like a million times and I let it go a million times because no way was my best friend like that. Was just saying some shit he heard his dad say. I know Brandon's deal though. His dad has been controlling him with money his whole life. He's my age and his dad's still telling him how to dress. They never raised him to be anything but their pet or they would disown him. Fucking assholes. Wanna know the worst part? I get home and Brandon sends me this long ass text about how I took it the wrong way and why was I was being all sensitive all of a sudden and I should be used to his dad talking like that because he's always been like that. Saying shit like I don't even know the black side of my family and that I was just a rich kid like him. Fuck him and his fucking family. Fuck Beverly Hills too.

My mom thinks I'm too young to move out and she doesn't think the neighborhoods I chose are safe for white boys. That's the problem. I ain't a boy. I ain't white either.




FERGI

It wasn't me. It wasn't ever me! GG treating me like she's taking care of me is getting so old. I wish I could just tell her the truth. Way she acts I'm scared one day I might. I'm over there because I love her and we are each other's only family. Only family that count anyway. I don't wanna see nothin' bad happen to her. She's my aunt and I love her. GG isn't well though. I talk to her everyday and I stay over when I can tell she's spiraling into another depressive episode or she's manic or just flat out trippin'. And truthfully, she's almost always one of those. It's exhausting because you never know which GG you gon' get on any given day. Some days she's so cool. Talkin' like she got some sense, funny as hell, mothering, a good person to bounce ideas off of. And believe me, she got tons of hustling advice. But then other days she's so hyper it's scary to be around her. One time she went off on Tino the security guard in front of her building. Tino know how she is and he was trying to be cool but she just kept at him. Gettin' all loud and it was late and people started lookin'. I didn't know what was goin' on 'til Miss Bettie knocked on the door for me to go downstairs before Tino or somebody called the police. Thankfully he didn't and me and Miss Bettie brought her on up. Talkin' 'bout Tino watched some guy break in her car and didn't do nothin' about it and he let somebody sleep in her car overnight and a buncha bullshit everybody in they right mind know whatn't true. Except GG ain't in her right mind.

I started tellin' my grandparents somethin' was wrong with GG when I was a teenager. She wild and ain't got much of a filter but it's more than just she wild or she so crazy. No. She is crazy. That's the muthafuckin' problem. Nobody believed me. Nobody did anything. Nothin'. I feel sorry for her. But like I said, I love her so I don't take care of her on no pity shit but I do take care of her. I know I ain't got no thanks comin' my way but I know God know. One time I tried to talk her into gettin' herself checked out because what if I wasn't here? Or Miss Bettie wasn't around? Or Tino ain't the guard at the front and she come home trippin'? She better be lucky it wasn't Mr. Thomas workin' that night. He don't like nobody, especially her and he woulda been called the cops.Then what? Plus, me stayin' over so much is puttin' a strain on my relationship with Clark. He understand I gotta do what I gotta do for my auntie but he says he doesn't like how much it drains me. What can I say? He's right. Well, me mentioning that she needed help in any way sent her into such a tizzy I know I can't bring it up again. She kicked me out her apartment that night. Told me don't ever come back or call or nothin'. I made sure Miss Bettie looked in on her and I stayed gone for two weeks. I showed up again like nothin' happened and she acted like nothin' happened too. We both know somethin' happened and I bet not mention nothin' about her gettin' no help again. So I sit and watch her. Make sure she eat. Make her smoothies in the morning and put herbs in 'em she don't know about. I'm tryin'. It's gettin' to me though. It really is.

You know, if I'm bein' one hundred it ain't just me takin' care of GG why I come and stay so much. I miss my mother and GG is the only place I can go where I can hear stories about her. I was a little girl when she died. I get scared sometimes because I'm starting to forget her. Her smell and her laugh. Even starting to forget her face. But GG got pictures all over the place with her and my mom. Me and GG. Me and my mom. Ain't no place I can see that. I love Clark and I know he love me but GG is my family. And what if I lose her? With everything goin' on in the world. I'm scared she gon be out somewhere and just lose it. Then what? Then what family I got?