I'm Not Superwoman

by Marlon McCaulsky

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Atlanta, Georgia, is the hub of the black college experience. Nia Scott, a gifted pre-med student at Clark Atlanta University, is focused on one goal: becoming a doctor. With her Superwoman mentality, she believes she can do it all. But along with trying to achieve her dreams come challenges.

Nia’s roommate, Sabina Singh, is spiraling out of control, putting Nia in compromising positions. Not only is she struggling to maintain her grades, but she's also in a rocky relationship with her college football star boyfriend, Kyle Hicks.

His inner demons begin to take them both down a dark path that could end her dreams. When a tragic incident occurs, Nia is shaken to her core. Will she be able to pick up the pieces of her life, or will she succumb to the darkness around her?

Release date: January 23, 2024

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Chicago, IL

Traffic was thick as I drove down Chicago Road toward the Chicago Heights Rec Center. I was on my way to pick up my little brother, Sean, who was playing basketball with his friends. My flight back to Atlanta was leaving later that evening, and I wanted to spend my last few hours home with him. I stopped at a red light and heard a horn honk from the car next to me. I glanced over, and there was a guy motioning for me to let my window down. I thought nothing of it. Maybe he needed quick directions, or maybe he was trying to tell me something was going on with my car that I hadn’t noticed. So I let my window down.

He smiled, showcasing a full set of gold fronts. If “Shiiid, wassup, shawty” were a person, it would have been him. “I just wanted to tell you that I saw you a block ago, and, girl, you are boo-ti-ful!”

I couldn’t believe dude was trying to holla at me in the middle of traffic. I should’ve known better. “Ah, thanks,” I replied politely.

“So wassup wit’cha?” He waited for an answer. Because I didn’t give him one, he continued, “Why don’t you let me take you out or sump’n? If you were my wummun, I would speril you er’day. Trust me, I got the kind of mon-tey that make all your bills go-a-way. Gimme yo numba. I promise it will be the best decision you make awl day.” He beamed at his lyrical prowess.

I glanced up at the light, hoping it would turn green, but the damn thing seemed like it was stuck on red, forcing me to answer him. “I’m sorry. I have a boyfriend.” I thought that would shut down the conversation. Silly me.

“What’cha man got ta do wit’ me?”

His response caught me off guard. “I guess nothing, but I’m not interested.”

The light finally turned green, and when I started to pull off, I heard my admirer yell at me, “Black bitch!”

Just like that, I went from being beautiful to a Black bitch in the blink of an eye. I earned that disrespect because I didn’t want to talk to him? Crazy, isn’t it? The last person who should ever disrespect a Black woman is a Black man, but it seems like that’s the most common source.

The perception of the “strong Black woman” has become a cliché. The idea of African American women as eternally tough and stupendously indestructible is a thing we’ve been trying to live up to forever. The “strong Black woman” narrative is empowering yet distressing. It’s fulfilling yet leaves a part of us yearning for more. Black women are reared to believe that we have superwoman attributes, but what are they really? The power to take on the weight of the world and not break? The ability to break yet hold it all together with a smile on our faces and heads held high? Being a superwoman is a stereotype that has been drilled into my psyche since I was old enough to talk. It’s an unrealistic mentality we’re forced to take on to survive in this culture, which often leads to us being perceived as cold-hearted, brash, or independent women who don’t need a man. When we stand our ground, we’re perceived as angry, unstable, and uncooperative. We’re the less-cared-about people in America. You know what? I’m not superwoman and don’t want to be. I’m human, and I have feelings like everyone else. I hurt like everyone else. I bleed like everyone else, but because I’m a Black woman, that’s supposed to make things different. We’re marginalized and the most unprotected. We’re the group who can go missing and no one worries or even notices. Social paradoxes create a deadly environment that is damned if you do, damned if you don’t for Black women across the diaspora. Should I be strong and do everything on my own, or should I let a man take his historical place as a provider and lead? I wasn’t trying to be taken care of by any man, and I was damn sure not going to let him lead me anywhere.

The idea of a man being a provider and head of the household was what historically held Black families together. Now the systemic lack of a strong, balanced Black male in what was regarded a very highly respected place is the same thing that is killing our women.

So instead, what do we usually get? We get the most backhanded compliments like “You’re so pretty for a black girl” or “You’re so pretty for what you are” and it’s assumed we’re mixed with something. On behalf of all Black women who have received those lame compliments, fuck you.

It’s unfair.

Why did I have to pretend to be confident and self-assured at times when I wasn’t sure if I was making the right choices? It was hard enough trying to live up to my own dreams, let alone trying to live up to someone else’s impossible standards. I was tired of it.

Since I was 9 years old, I wanted to be a doctor. I remembered when I got my first stethoscope. It was a birthday gift from my dad. He told me if I wanted to be a doctor, I could achieve that. I could achieve anything I wanted. And I believed him. That was why I had always been close to my dad. You could say I was a daddy’s girl. The day he and my mom split, I took it very hard, almost as hard as Sean.

My father assured us that he was still going to be an active part of our lives. Even though he was busy running his own tech venture, he kept his word. My dad supported us 100 percent. As a result, I received a full ride to Clark Atlanta University, where I was almost done with my pre-med classes and eagerly awaiting to start med school.

Finally arriving at the rec center, I parked and went inside to find Sean. Not that I’m bragging, but my little brother got skills. He was only 15, but he could ball. We inherited our height from our father. At five foot nine, I was above average for a woman. As a kid I was tall and awkward. The boys called me giraffe girl and joked I was Geoffrey’s little sister. When puberty hit, I literally went from bony to bombshell overnight, and then them same little snot-nosed boys all of a sudden wanted to be my friend. The same transformation happened to my brother, minus the ass and breasts. His six-foot-four body developed broad shoulders and muscular arms. A well-defined six-pack, natural athletic prowess, and being a starting forward on his high school team made me proud. Damn, I’m going to miss him.

“All right, Nia,” he called out when he saw me, then yelled to his friends, “I’ll holla at y’all later.”

“Yo, that’s you right there?” I heard one of his friends ask.

“Nah, man, that’s my sister.”

“Damn.”

Sean jogged off the court toward me, and we walked to the truck.

“Your game keeps on getting better. Pretty soon you gonna be ballin’ with LeBron and Curry.”

“Yeah!” He beamed. “You know how I get down.”

Once we got into the truck and drove off, I noticed Sean looking a little sad. We didn’t have the typical brother-and-sister relationship. I was more of a mother figure to him because of our seven-year age gap. Especially after our parents divorced. Whenever he had a problem, I was the first one he turned to for help.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled.

“Sean?”

“I’m just gonna miss you.” He sighed. “I wish I could go with you.”

“You know, I’m going to miss you too. I need you to look after Mom, ya know?”

His jaw tightened. “She’s got Leon now.”

“Why don’t you like him? He seems fine.”

A frown painted his face. “That’s because you’re here. When you leave, he’s gonna come at me all sideways and shit like he always does.”

“How?”

“He’s trying to act like he’s Daddy.”

“Have you told Mom?”

He folded his arms. “She isn’t gonna do anything. You know them hours she be working now. She don’t see the way he be doing me.”

I’d been home for a few months and noticed that Sean and Leon didn’t really speak to each other at all. I just thought it was because our dad wasn’t consistent in his life. I never put two and two together until now.

I looked at him. “What does he do?”

“He be trying to stop me from going to practice and be saying slick shit like, ‘You know when you turn eighteen, you gonna have to find your own place.’ Trying to kick me out of my own house. Man, fuck that dude!”

Sean was pissed. I had to admit I never saw this side of Leon, but if my brother said this was what he was doing, then I believed him. Always.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m going to have a word with him when we get back.”

“That won’t matter, man. Soon as you hit the highway to the airport, he’s gonna start tripping again. I’m telling you, he’s on his best behavior because you’re here.”

“Then I’ll talk to Mom. I’m not having him come in our home and abuse you. Have you thought about staying with Dad for a while?”

“Nah, he stays too far away, and I’m starting this year. I’m not changing schools because of him.”

Leon and my mom started dating each other the year I left for Clark, and he moved in six months ago. Sean had always been honest with me, so I knew he was telling the truth and not exaggerating. It was hard to believe my mom would let any man behave like this toward her son. Is she really that caught up that she can’t see what’s going on? Since I’d been back home, he’d been cool with me, but if he was messing with my brother, I wasn’t going to let that shit slide. Damn, maybe I should’ve gone to school here.

Our modest four-bedroom, three-bath, two-story home was in the suburban area of Lake View on the north side of Chicago. My father made sure he moved his family from the more dangerous south side of Chicago when I was a toddler. He didn’t want his wife and kids to live in what most people here considered an active war zone. That area was notorious for homicides, more than any other city in America.

My mom came downstairs when she heard us come in. She looked good. Hell, she looked like a slightly older, more conservative version of me. She had a slim frame and golden brown skin. Her long hair was in an updo with gray streaks.

My relationship with her had been strained, to put it mildly, since the divorce. She was a bit old school and felt that I should settle down with my boyfriend, Kyle, and start a family, especially since he was a football star. She eagerly told me to lock him down now before he signed a big NFL contract, but that wasn’t even my style. To this day, she never understood how important becoming a doctor was to me.

She smiled. “I was wondering if you were going to get back in time.”

“I got plenty of time, Mom. My flight doesn’t leave for another six hours.”

“Sean, go take a shower and change.”

I covered my nose. “Yeah, you stank.”

“When I’m in the NBA, y’all gonna love my stank, and guess what I’m gonna say to all my fans?”

My mom sighed. “What?”

“Stank you, stank you, stank you very much!” he sang.

“Boy, you’re crazy.” Mom and I laughed. She swatted at him. “Go hurry up now.”

Leon appeared at the top of the stairs, and the whole mood changed instantly.

“You heard your mother! Hurry up,” he snapped, walking slowly down the stairs.

Sean gave Leon that “fuck you” look and walked by him without a word.

“I’m going to put your bags in the truck, Nia.”

“Okay, thanks.” I nodded and offered a fake smile.

“So I guess I’m not going to see you for another two years?”

“Mom, why you gotta say it like that?”

She sighed. “That’s what it feels like sometimes. Besides, you’ll find out how it feels when you and Kyle have kids.”

I rolled my eyes. “Kyle and I are only dating, and who says I want kids right now, if I want them at all?”

I could tell my last statement shocked her. “How long have you been dating?” She waited for an answer and tapped her foot.

“Two years, but still.”

“A good boy like Kyle isn’t going to wait for you too long. And there’s nothing wrong with having kids and starting a family.”

“Wow, that’s so 1950s of you to say. Mom, as hard as this may be for you to believe, being a doctor is more important to me than being somebody’s wife or mother.”

She was taken aback by my words. Truth be told, while my dad encouraged me to chase my dreams of being a doctor, my mother always drilled into me the importance of being a good girl, marrying a successful man, and raising a family. I was raised with conflicting ideas of what I should be as a woman. I could do it all. Was I superwoman?

“I don’t know where you came from, but you’re not my child.”

I pointed to her forehead. “Oh, I’m your child. You see this forehead? That’s you. That’s all you. Now Sean, that’s a different story. That’s all Daddy.” We both laughed, lightening the mood. There was no denying that truth.

I wanted to talk to her about what Sean and I spoke about earlier, but instead, I went outside to speak to Leon and saw him puffing on a Newport. I was surprised Mom was even with a man who smoked, but I guessed after being married for over twenty years, then all of a sudden being single again, you accepted a few things. He was a medium-built man in his late forties with a chocolate brown complexion and light brown eyes. His head was shaved bald because of his receding hairline, but he managed to keep a neat goatee. He wasn’t ugly, but my dad was much more attractive.

“Leon, can I talk to you for second?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I know you and my mom have been dating for a while, but I’ve noticed some tension between you and Sean since I’ve been home. Is everything all right?”

He took a long drag of his Newport, then blew smoke out of the corner of his mouth. I noticed his teeth had a slightly buttery tint to them. My mother kisses that? Eww!

“Your brother has gotten a little attitude lately. I guess all teenagers get it about his age, so I had to reel him in a little bit.”

“You can feel any way you want, but don’t you think telling him he has to move out at eighteen is a little too much? I mean, he’s not your responsibility, and you don’t have the right to say that.”

“Listen, Nia, Sean’s a good kid, but he’s becoming a man. He needs to stop running up under his mother and take more responsibility.”

“Leon, this is his home, and I don’t see him running to Mom every two minutes.”

“I’m trying to show him a little discipline. She can’t hold his hand every time he’s got a problem with me,” Leon sarcastically replied.

I felt myself becoming annoyed by his attitude. “Does that discipline include stopping him from going to basketball practice?”

“If he doesn’t follow the rules in my house, then yes,” Leon arrogantly snapped.

My neck craned quickly. “Whoa, your house?”

“Yes, my house,” he said confidently. “I’m the man around here.”

“Let me clarify some things for you,” I said, raising my voice along with my finger. “Last time I checked, this was still my mother’s house, and Sean is her son. If ya want to get technical about it, my dad’s name is still on the deed. Do you contribute to anything around here?”

My mom walked outside and heard what I said. She darted over to Leon and me as we stared each other down. “What’s going on out here?”

“Ask your daughter.”

Angrily, he marched inside the house and slammed the door. My mom exhaled, then stared at me. It was like, in that moment, the charade they’d been playing since I’d been home was over.

“Nia, what was that all about?”

“We were talking about Sean.”

“What about Sean?”

“Mom”—I folded my arms—“you haven’t noticed the tension between those two?”

She shifted in her stance. “Sean is still getting used to Leon being here, so there’s going to be a little tension for a while.”

“For a while? Mom, it’s been six months.”

“I know . . . I know. I’ve talked to him about it.”

I cocked my head to the side at her dismissiveness. “Well, Sean’s talked to me about it, too. Do you know Leon told him he’s got to move out when he turns eighteen?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Leon wouldn’t say that.”

I frowned. “He did, Mom. He’s even stopped him from going to practice. I know Sean has a smart mouth, but come on. He doesn’t need all that. Why are you allowing Leon to treat him like that?”

“Listen, there are other things going on. I love Sean and I love Leon. Neither are perfect, but we’re doing our best to work things out as a family.”

“A what? Family? Mom, we are your family, me and Sean, and he needs you.”

“I’ll talk to Leon, but he’s in my life now. I need him.”

I glared at her for a moment and almost threw up in my mouth when I heard her say that. She really was turning a blind eye to everything, and I didn’t like it. For now it was an issue we’d have to discuss later.

Atlanta, GA

The flight from Chicago to Atlanta was quick. I took an Uber and arrived at my apartment near campus and texted Kyle to let him know I was back. My father insisted on paying for my place. He was, in my opinion, overcompensating for breaking up our family. I didn’t mind his generosity at all. In fact, I decided to share and pay it forward by extending an invite to an old high school friend from Chicago named Sabina Singh. We’d bee. . .