Sista Hood On the Mic

Chapter 1: My Weapon Is the Mic I wanted more than anything in the world to be an emcee. Oh, and to be with Ezekiel Matthews. So, as I rode the San Francisco Muni bus from my wealthy public school neighborhood of St. Francis Wood to my working-class barrio -- the Mission -- I dreamed. I thought of better times that have passed and of dreams to come. A time when I'll have my own stage, a record deal and my honey on my arm. For now, I'll settle for making it through the next four years of high school. I opened my sketchbook that Papi gave me for my twelfth birthday. It's worn, like a comfy pair of shoes. It has been loved and plastered over with album covers from my favorite hip-hop artists like Tupac, Missy Elliott, Goapele, Flakiss and Mystic. I haven't seen Papi in three months. Writing is my way of shouting him out, drenching myself in his light. I just wrote on the bus. Tuned out the noise. Didn't care about the teenage boys that smelled of sweat or the girls that wore clothes so tight their pants would probably rip if they sat down too quickly. I created my own cipher, and wrote as if each word I penned would somehow bring Papi back into my life. I make the most of what I gotHoping I can blow the spot and make a knot.But keep my soul intactIf I make it,Mami, I'll be back. "Yo, why you always gotta be so tough?" Ezekiel said, stretching his neck over my seat to peep my lyrics. "They sound like a dude wrote them. I thought you Latinas were suppose to be soft and sexy and bring me tortillas for lunch?" "I'm not Mexican. Besides, Puerto Ricans don't eat tortillas," I said as I slammed my notebook closed. I wanted to reply with a cool-ass comeback. Instead, I just sat there like a mute. All I could do to avoid his sexy charcoal-colored eyes was to look out the Muni bus window and chew on my cuticles. Shit, I'm never at a loss for words unless I'm sitting next to MC EZ, as he's known to all his fans in Frisco. I felt both excited to see him and resentful that he had to show up, at the exact moment when I wanted just to be alone. "I heard this dope rapper once say, 'When society tries to silence us, our most powerful weapon is the mic,' " EZ said. "Which also means how you say it is as important as what you say. That's why you need a serious attitude adjustment, Mari, and stop trying to sound so hard!" "Hip-hop class is over, and I don't need you to play teacher no more." "I wasn't dissin' your words, I was tryin' to help a li'l sistah out." Here I've been dying to see Ezekiel for months, and the first thing he did was criticize me. Forget that he called me li'l sistah, we spent the best eight weeks of my life together this summer. At camp, when I would bust out lyrics about women being strong and smart, he was the only guy who didn't avoid me afterward. All the other guys would be sweating the girls who were more flirtatious and less in-your-face with their rhymes. It's always hard with guys 'cause my steelo could never be some J. Lo or Lil' Kim type, who hooches out and downplays their smarts for the bling-bling. "Oh, so now you're not talkin' to me?" he said. But I could tell he wasn't mad 'cause he said it as if he were trying to make amends. Maybe he's already tired of his new hottie, J-Ho. Actually her name is Jessica Hoffman. Since she dug her claws into him, brotha man all but disappeared. I might be lovestruck, but I still need to make him earn a sistah's love. "You haven't spoken to me in five months and suddenly expectE-Fierce is the author of 'Sista Hood On the Mic' with ISBN 9780743285155 and ISBN 0743285158.