Written on November 23, 2020
It was Parent Teacher conference.
We’d split – Hooyo would visit each teacher with Jawahir.
And Abbe, with me.
Relief.
I wouldn’t have to make rounds with her.
Hooyo.
Draped in all shades of the color wheel. Dripping with the loudest jewelry.
Choir concerts. Doctor’s visits. Grocery store cashiers. Extra from head to toe.
Her style. Like a rainbow. Compliments flowing in from every direction.
A vibrance only others could see.
Once in 3rd grade she made her way in as the class chaperone for our field trip to salt lake city.
Her display captivated all the kids.
How hypocritical I was. Because my favorite escape was her own closet.
She knew the story of every single garment she owned.
In her wardrobe I’d live out my fantasies in secret.
Other times my sisters would join.
Hooyo would encourage us.
Help pair outfits. Cheer. Me working an imaginary runway.
Halloweens. We’d all put on black abaya’s. Pick our hair out wide and paint our lips dark.
Dancing to Thriller in the living room. Taking turns filming with our camcorder.
Still like I switch, I’d find deep hope that at least in the public’s eye she would blend.
Hooyo has never believed in taking styling “tips”
She stares at her reflection in mirrors. Mesmerized.
Back then I think I was probably filled with envy.
That she could be so carefree about her self-expression.
Mama I’m sorry.
These truths will probably not phase you.
Cheers to you, the baddest chick in the game.
❤ my shining star
mimi thy phoenix 