She shakes her head. “You have the nerve to tell me that you want out of See Us, and now you’re acting like you are the one who should be upset? All right, Ayo . . . ask me,” she says.

“Ask me” is a game we play when we disagree on something. She’ll tell me who she believes I am acting like, and I’ll tell her. In the end, it helps us either come to an agreement or laugh it off. But I’m in no mood to play. I already know what she thinks of me.

“I’m not playing,” I inform her.

“Ask me,” she says.

“Not playing,” I insist.

“Fine,” she says, shaking her head again as she tidies up the counter.

I turn around sharply, fully intending to leave the house, but my curiosity gets the better of me. “Okay. Who am I?” I ask begrudgingly.

“Nick Cannon thinking he can battle Eminem.”

My mom just called me brain damaged. I’m dumbfounded. My whole body tenses up. There’s so much I want to say, but when I open my mouth, all that comes out is “Argh!”

“I’m sorry, Ayo, but that’s who you are right now.”

“Fine. Ask me.”

She takes a deep breath, bracing herself. “Who am I?”

My mom loves throwback nineties hip-hop and R&B. I’m not sure when I started to like it too, but I did. So when we get a chance, we binge-watch shows like Behind the Music and Unsung. I reference an episode we’ve watched a million times.

“You’re Pebbles refusing to release TLC from their contract.”

She folds her arms across her chest and glares back at me. “Really? Well, right now, you are Lil Wayne on Nightline.”

I have a strong urge to roll my eyes, suck my teeth, and dismiss her. But I don’t want to die today. So instead, I let out a breath and head for the door. I turn back to her, and just before I walk out, I pose a challenge. “Ask me.”

She says, “Who am I?”

“Azealia Banks.”

I didn’t think it was possible, but as I walk down the block, I see even more How Much? posters through the neighborhood. The posters are mocking me. It’s a reminder that no matter how hard I try, I will always be tied to See Us. It doesn’t help that I get stopped three times by people who know my mom and have questions about the protest.

No,

you should not bring newborns to the march with you.

No,

we can’t change the date because it conflicts with the Real Housewives of Atlanta reunion special.

No,

you can’t hitch a ride in the senior van if you’re not a senior.