Living Monologues | Diana
This monologue is pure fiction and part of my ongoing Living Monologue Series that explores who we are beneath our words.
It’s not the fact that I’m pretty or whatever. I got the job because I’m good at my job.
Yeah, I understand pretty privilege, ok? I get that being high yellow definitely doesn’t hurt. You don’t have to explain it to me. I’m not stupid. But I am damn good at my job, you hear me? And it’s just my time. That’s why I got it. It ‘s my TIME, ok?
And Gloria Vinson didn’t raise me to do anything but work my ass off to get what I want, anyway. And I’ve been doing that since the first time she told me I needed to learn how to earn some money.
Earning money was always honest, she’d say. Making money could lead you astray because everybody wanted to make it fast.
I was only ten but I got out there selling Capri Suns, didn’t I? You couldn’t tell me nothing. I had every flavor. My little Lisa Frank backpack was jammed with those juices. And everybody came running to ME after they got off the bus. You give me two quarters, you can have a juice. It was simple. Shoooooot. Some of the kids would save up all week and buy half my little inventory in one swoop on Thursdays or Fridays.
So, I know about working hard from young. I also know about bitches (God forgive me) swooping in and trying to take it all from me. Just like how Colleen Danielson tried to do with this job. But listen, if I don’t know anything else from all those Sundays at Mount Moriah Apostolic, I know this — God might let you get away with messing with people here and there or maybe even for a lifetime, but it always comes back to bite you. And in all honesty? I’ma be the one doing the biting. And that’s on everything.
Mount Moriah — I learned the art of the hustle from Sister Waleska. Shoot. The way she slanged chicken wing sandwiches was wild. I waited the whole 4 to 5 hours of service, strategizing how to slide fast and hard enough out of our pew just to get downstairs and be one of the first kids in line to get one. My mom hated buying them for me, but she did it because I never asked for much. And if I got to the line too late to be first because some broad-bottomed woman and her ten kids were on our pew, all I had to do was pull on my ponytail a little bit and smile at the boys in line. They’d let me cut without me saying a word. Even that was work. The other girls would be mad and try to tell on me but it never mattered. Ugly ducklings never know how to lose gracefully.
It’s just like with this job. Brian interviewed four of us in a group interview. I wore my red palazzo pants and off-white blouse that tied at the collar. I had on some of my cutest flats. I didn’t care about looking tall, I wanted to be comfortable. And I wore my hair down because… hey, it doesn’t hurt. Especially when it’s waist-length. I could tell he liked me before I opened my mouth. And before you go rolling your eyes - it had absolutely zero to do with wanting to sleep with me. Everything to do with me looking presentable. Shoot. Nobody wants to work with somebody who doesn’t look like nothing. Come on.
Colleen and I had come up against each other two times before. Black women… I mean, we’re rare in our field and now everybody’s running, jumping, skipping, turning over rocks and shit to get a Negress on their teams since all the racial ra-ra. They still as racist as they want to be. And, alright, I know that a lot of them are only looking at us light-skinned ones. But I walked into that boardroom and wowed Brian. I know I did. Had nothing to do with me being light-skinned. Colleen is half Puerto Rican. So what? I won fair and square. Me. I spoke with more confidence than she could try to squeeze out of one finger. And she had lipstick on her teeth. Guess she shouldn’t have copied off of me with the Ruby Woo. I know she saw it on my Instagram. It’s my staple. My staple. And she came in there with Havana twists. Now, I’m Blackity Black all day but you know what it is. Don’t act like you don’t.
This is nobody’s crabs-in-a-barrel situation. I just refuse to be less than the best and I’ll be damned if anybody makes me feel bad for being good-looking while smart. I don’t take anything away from any of these other heifers that they wouldn’t have been able to handle anyway. I do my job and I do it well.
I think Brian offered Colleen a different position but knowing her she won’t take it because guess who she’d be reporting to?
Damn right. Ok?