the burden of being an only child, especially a girl
who will naturally be more caring.
2
Yazz has a massive poster of Hendrix in her room at uni with his crazy hair, hippy headband, rippled chest, bulging crotch and electric guitar
a cultural signifier for all those who enter her room to instantly know what kinda badass they dealin’ wiv
although her eclectic and unpredictable taste extends beyond the electric rock riffs of prehistory to A$AP Rocky to Mozart to Stormzy to the Priests to Angélique Kidjo to Wizkid to Bey to Chopin to RiRi to Scott Joplin to Dolly Parton to Amr Diab and so on
she’s even got a recording of the über basso profundo Oktavist singers of Russia who don’t so much sing as make the earth rumble
so much radness and who’s way ahead of da mob dem?
her room is the largest in her block on account of the ‘extreme claustrophobia and social anxiety’ stunt she pulled to get it
it overlooks the canal that runs along the border of the campus through to the wetlands beyond with its otters (or is it badgers?) and herons (or is it geese?) and other birdy, animalistic things she doesn’t recognize and can’t be bothered to look up
she’d rather fill her head with stuff that will help her get on in life and naming the wildlife of eastern England don’t come into it
the other side of her room overlooks the pathways that zig-zag through the campus, from which a stream of caners stagger past her window to their rooms most nights, usually drunk and selfishly loud, having been drinking in town or in the Student Union bar
she’s only been in it once as it was crammed with the drunken dregs of humanity, i.e. the type of boys who get progressively malodorous as the term progresses because their mother isn’t dunking them screaming into a bath every night
the kind of boys who wear increasingly injured expressions because they don’t understand why no one will sit next to them in lectures and no one wants to tell them, yo, you stink, bro
Yazz thought she’d find romance at uni, a nice guy on her level who doesn’t look like the back of a bus and is taller than her (prerequisite)
someone to snuggle up to on Saturday evenings and to laze away Sunday mornings in bed listening to music while she catches up with the New Yorker, Observer, gal-dem, The Root, Atlantic and thegrio
because one day she will write for them
sadly, Mum has more pulling power than her and is actually considered hot in the lesbian world
her girlfriends du jour, as Dad puts it (hey, why speak English when you can speak French?), are two white women, Dolores and Jackie, although Mum has been with every ethnicity known to humankind (it’s called multiracial whoredom)
they’re all very cosy together which is quite heart-warming seeing as Mum’s women have gone to war over her
it’s strange, and suspicious, because with Dolores and Jackie there are no screaming matches, no ranting answerphone messages, no one trying to kick in the front door in the middle of the night, and no one skulking in a corner looking daggers at her rival at Mum’s parties
it’s like they actually like each other, Yazz suspects they have gruesome threesomes, and can’t bring herself to ask
besides, she’s lost count of the women who’ve come and gone to the point that the new ones barely register on her Richter scale of annoyance
there’ll inevitably be a new face around the breakfast table trying to befriend the daughter of their new lover, running around making her toast, omelette with cheese and tomatoes, pouring her juice, washing up the dishes after her
the daughter who’ll drop numerous unsubtle hints when her birthday/Christmas/Easter are approaching (and why isn’t the marmalade on the table?)
when Yazz talks about her unusual upbringing to people, the unworldly ones expect her to be emotionally damaged from it, like how can you not be when your mum’s a polyamorous lesbian and your father’s a gay narcissist (as she describes him), and you were shunted between both their homes and dumped with various godparents while your parents pursued their careers?
this annoys Yazz who can’t stand people saying anything negative about her parents
that’s her prerogative
anyway, she’s resigned herself to hanging out with the squad at uni rather than going out manhunting
it’s unfortunate that she’s coming of age as one of the Swipe-Like-Chat-Invite-Fuck Generation where men expect you to give it up on the first (and only) date, have no pubic hair at all, and do the disgusting things they’ve seen women do in porn movies on the internet
which she suspects the boys in her halls watch all day and all night, boys who are rarely seen outside their rooms (lectures? what lectures?)
she’s only been on one date at uni, which involved sitting at a bar with a male specimen she’d thought was an interesting person, who was obviously swiping his phone to see if someone more fanciable was in the vicinity before making his pathetic excuses about having to do revision
she left shortly after he did, saw him chatting up a woman in a bar a few doors down when she passed on her way home
Yazz reckons that by the time guys her age want to settle down, her ovaries will be busted and they’ll be on to women half their age who can still drop babies at the drop of a hat
so
even though she’s considered reasonably attractive (as in not 100% ugly), with her own unique style (part 90s Goth, part post-hip hop, part slutty ho, part alien), she’s having to compete with images of girls on fucksites with collagen pouts and their bloated silicone tits out
Yazz has considered dating older guys in their thirties (who are always up for banging teenagers), until she visualizes the nose hair, wrinkly cock and pot belly scenario
so until such time as someone suitable comes along (if he ever will) who can offer proper commitment with a view to a monogamous relationship in the long term (her mother she is not), she’s got herself a booty call in Steve, an American who’s studying for a PhD on ‘the interrelationship and aesthetics of hip hop and racial politics in the eighties’
unfortunately, he’s also got a girlfriend in Chicago, which provokes something of a moral conundrum when they’re in bed together, and she calls and he lies about what he’s doing
Yazz sometimes has sleepless nights worrying she’ll be alone for the whole of her life
if she can’t get a proper boyfriend at nineteen what hope is there for when she’s older?
a couple of Mum’s female friends have been single for decades, not the lesbians who have little problem getting off with each other, but the straight ones who’ve got good jobs and houses and no partner to share it with, who say they’re not prepared to settle at this stage in their lives
Mum accuses them of ‘Looking for Obama Syndrome’
behind their backs
Nenet, the third member of the squad, is engaged to Kadim who’s studying in America, her parents chose him for her
she resisted at first until they threatened to cast her out, and the thought of having to actually find a job after uni and earn her own money, like the rest of them, brought her round
luckily, she hit it off with him once she actually met and got to know him, and is often off for long weekends (like Wednesday to Monday) in Connecticut where he’s studying
even so she gets As for her coursework, she’s that clever
she’s