No woman, especially a black woman, should have to do anything to keep anything; but somehow, every woman had done just that at least once in their lifetime. That anything that made them feel cheap, that made them feel dirty, and worthless, always seemed to be just the thing that kept the lights from being turned off and kept the bellies of nappy-headed boys and girls full, while their mothers’ bellies growled through the night. Children rarely knew of the sacrifices their mothers made, but the effects of them were forever burned in the minds of the women who had to make them. Black women made ways out of no way, by pulling that ‘anything’ card. Even though it wasn’t Ethic’s place to intervene, he couldn’t and wouldn’t pull out of the parking lot as the white man inside held his privilege over Alani’s head. As a black man, wasn’t it his place to protect a queen who had forgotten how worthy she was of respect? This was the part of life that still puzzled him. How could he bask in his regality in this instance, but then take arms against his brother in another? It was in these moments that he knew that he was still victim to the conditioning of a society that made him feel justified to kill Lucas, but feel obligated to protect Alani. Was the life of a black man not as valuable as that of a black woman? Perhaps, Ethic should have spoken to Lucas, man to man, educated him, forgiven him…brother to brother… perhaps? Ethic didn’t know how to change his perspective. All he knew was that he had ridden to protect “his”, but this overwhelming desire to protect Alani meant she somehow was “his” as well. They belonged to the same tribe, the same, black-skinned, dark-hearted, Afro-American tribe. They were all the same. All, only a few generations removed, from the ships that brought their ancestors over here in chains. So yes, that black woman, who was inside doing “anything” for that white man, was “his.” This meant, Lucas had been “his” as well. Same skin. Same tribe. Yet, Ethic had done, exactly, what society had bred him to do - exterminate blacks. Hate blacks. So, did he hate himself? Same tribe, same skin, same nigga…damn, niggers? And I say that shit like it’s cool, he thought. He had said the word so much, that he no longer valued a black man as a human being. Lucas had been just another nigga to him. It was a different spelling, and he had tried to fool himself into thinking that it meant something different, but the word, ultimately, had always been the same. That was the illusion. That was the point of it all. While niggas were busy killing niggas, white men - like the one inside - was busy taking advantage of the black queens, and Ethic had fallen for the banana in the tail pipe. Confusion plagued him. Angst tightened in his belly. He could not just do nothing. He had to do everything to stop Alani from doing “anything.”