“Sweet Pea” | Folasade Imani Smith

Aspiring writer and journalist Sade Smith is a recent grad from UMass Dartmouth with a Bachelors in English. While she writes poetry and short stories in her spare time, she is most passionate about exploring the ins and outs of the world, hoping to travel and document the global human experience.

**First Place Award for Creative Work**

Artist’s Statement: My writing of this part of my life helped me establish a voice. A voice I felt should be heard. Moments of identity crises and discovering my sexuality shaped that voice into what I think is one of strength and growth. Two things that anyone who reads my story can relate to. A story that will compel audiences and soothe its creator. This is what artistic development is about.

Circa October 2015

I took another shot of something-from-the-weekend and for the 40th time, checked my hair and scanned my room for signs of anxiety, parallel to my mind at the moment. I was always nervous talking to girls. Almost never with guys. I could obtain and toss any guy I wanted. But a girl was more beautiful, more valuable. Like me. “Sweet Pea” was coming over for the first time since my embarrassing (cute to her) drunken confession to her at a party the weekend before. I figured if I had the same liquid courage as that night, then this visit shouldn’t be so bad. I had our schedule for the night; play music, smoke, small talk. I went through this short list over and over to calm my nerves as she knocked on the door. I had to count to five before opening the door. Not because it was some coy tactic. But because I was grinning like the fucking “IT” clown. The last girl I was romantically involved with wasn’t even gay. She was “just looking for some fun”, as if homosexuality was an amusement park for the heteros. I couldn’t entertain these girls anymore. But I went all out for this one. She was strong and beautiful, like the Queen of Kush. I fell in love with her before I even knew her name. During a Black Student Union meeting the semester earlier, she shared with the group a racist encounter she had on campus. After her class in LARTS watched the “Black Lives Matter” march across campus, some bold white boy called her and every other Black person a nigger and instead of arguing, she proceeded to land a clean punch across his face. Admirable. As Vice President at the time, I did my best to ensure that she was alright and let her know I was a resource to her. I didn’t know until the umpteenth visit, but she fell in love with me then too. After a while, we became very attached to each other. Whispering our hopes and dreams in the middle of the night next to her, I had never felt safer. We were able to be completely comfortable and true to ourselves around each other like friends, and still be lovers. I think the obvious societal distaste with homosexuality barred us so much from the world, that we simply created our own. It was sweet, like her.

“I find women attractive. I think if I didn’t, I wouldn’t find myself attractive.” –Grace Jones, 1985.

Circa April 2017

I never thought I would come out to my mother. Her Christian upbringing was shoved so far down my throat, I choked until I left home for school. But her almost-divorce from my stepfather changed her a lot. I like her much better now to say the least. And when you start becoming friends with your parents, you actually want them to know shit about you. It’s weird. So I resolved to tell her and get it over with. I sifted through ideal situations for days, and then one Monday she texts me that she’s coming up to take me out for lunch. Perfect. But also fuck. Although we weren’t together anymore, Sweet Pea and I still had a really great friendship. In a panic, I called her and told her what I planned to do. She was supportive but cautioned me not to rush it just because I wanted to tell her. But I knew it was the right time. After a nervous sit down at Applebee’s, I finalized my script and decided to take her outside for a stroll.

“Mom, I have something to tell you.” My mom was impatient when it comes to these things, but I couldn’t help but lag.

“I hope you still love me…and I don’t know if you’ve known, or how long you’ve known…I’m bisexual.” She laughed a little, which at first was disheartening to me.

But then she said, “I will always love you sweetie. And I’ve kinda known, since you were in high school maybe.”

I looped my arm through hers and as we continued to talk about it, I felt so much weight fall off my shoulders. I told her why I chose now to tell her. We were in a country where the man in charge openly bashed homosexuals, Muslims, liberals and the like. My mom has always known where I stood with accepting and loving my Blackness, as she was a major part of that growth. And I wanted, no needed that same support from her with my sexuality. She always knew what to say and urged me to be careful because “people are crazy out here.” I think my mom is coming into that age group where you just stop giving a fuck. Mostly about other people’s opinions on you, especially unhelpful ones. So I knew she meant it when she reminded me to stay honest to myself, first and foremost.

She asked me if I would tell Davlon. My dad. The big one. While my dad is seemingly less uptight than my mother in some matters, his Southern upbringing allows room for ignorance. I actually hadn’t seriously thought about it until she asked. I wondered how he would react. Lots of questions, I know. But would I still be his baby girl? My father had a gay comrade in the military for a few years, Sergeant Becker. My dad would bring me onto base with him to work some days, and I would chat with his staff, telling them about the horrors of the North. Sgt. Becker would show me pictures from his most recent vacations, mostly solo. I always thought, “what a free life.” But driving home from base that day, my dad told me that a lot of his family had disowned him after he came out, and I thought, “would that be me?”

My dad has made it clear that he doesn’t care for “gay folk” and what they do. Mostly because of his deep religion in minding your business. But overall, he does not understand why anyone would be attracted to someone of the same sex. In the South, this is a part of the Christian religion that is spoken of once and frmly. “If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood [shall be] upon them.” (Leviticus 20:13) And for young Southern belles and gentlemen, knowing each scripture and its translation into society was as important as your church shoes being unscuffed. So I decided for now, that I would save that conversation for my father on his deathbed.