There are three of them: Shaquanda, who wears dark blond wigs and looks like Lil’ Kim; Damon, who is bald and wears glasses and blue jean overalls with tan Timberland boots; and Terrell, who is suave and cool and sounds like the fourth member of Boyz II Men who talks but doesn’t sing. Shaquanda always punctuates her statements with “bitch” and claps when she speaks, for emphasis. Sometimes she claps so hard her electric-pink press-on nails come flying off. Damon usually pulls out a microphone as if he is about to give a speech to a large audience and finishes all his sentences with “you feel me.” Terrell sounds like a Black preacher with his deep baritone voice and his constant “hah” between words.

When they finally reach me, I tell Matthew to prepare for a show. They form a circle around me and all speak at once, their voices a chorus of validation: Do you know who the hell you are, bitch?!—You da best dat ever did it! Don’t let small minds dim ya light, you feel me? Mr. Walsh and Professor Cartwright cannot see you. How dey gon’ know what you capable of, you feel me? Bitch, you ain’t neva met an obstacle you couldn’t overcome. Fuck da bullshit! Yo mother’s God, hah, is sittin’ right over dere on dat big-ass mountain, hah, waitin’ to pounce on dese hatin’ nonbelievers, hah. You gon’ win, my nigga, you feel me? All we do is win, bitch, despite the challenges. Keep ya head up, ma.

I cheer quietly to myself, but loud enough for others in my immediate vicinity to hear, while pumping my fists. “That’s right! I’m gon’ win! They don’t know me. Who gon’ stop me, haah?!”