On the Come Up

by Angie Thomas

My mom’s eyes glisten. “They haven’t won. But you’re so lost that you’ve lost.”

“By doing the same stuff that put you in here in the first place!” Jay yells. She puts her hands together and holds them at her mouth. “I’ve cried over you,” she says thickly. “But I don’t think you’ve cried over yourself, and that’s the problem.”

“No. That’s not even her biggest problem,” says Jay. “Pooh doesn’t know who she is, and by not knowing who she is, she doesn’t know her worth. So, who are you?” “What?” “Who are you?” she repeats. “Of the millions and billions of people in the world, you’re the only person who can answer that. Not people online or at your school. I can’t even answer that. I can say who I think you are.” She cups my cheek. “And I think you’re brilliant, talented, courageous, beautiful. You’re my miracle. But you’re the only one who can say who you are with authority. So, who are you?” “I’m . . .” I can’t find the words. My mom leans over and kisses my forehead. “Work on figuring it out. I think it’ll give you more answers than you realize.”

Does he mean what I think he means? “You’re giving up your rap career?” Miles slowly nods. “Yeah. I am. Besides, is it really mine if I’m not being myself?”

“I love you,” she says. There’s a lot I don’t know and may never know. I don’t know why she chose drugs over me and Trey. I don’t know if five-year-old Bri will ever stop being afraid. I don’t know if Jay’ll stay clean for the rest of her life. But I know that she loves me. “I love you too . . . Mom.”

And you know what? Maybe that’s okay. Maybe we’ll be okay. Maybe I’ll be okay.

Not long ago, my mom asked me who I am. I’m starting to think I know. You see, I’m headstrong (and petty) like Grandma. I’m creative like Granddaddy. If that’s what you can call what he is, but yeah, I’m that. I speak my mind like Mom. I might be as strong as her, too. I care so much that it hurts. Like Trey. I’m like my dad in a lot of ways, even if I’m not him. And although Kayla isn’t family (yet), maybe she’s a glimpse at who I could be. If I’m nothing else, I’m them, and they’re me. That’s more than enough.

I lower the mic to my side. When I was little, I used to stand in front of mirrors with hairbrushes and imagine crowds chanting my name. Yet I don’t think I could’ve ever imagined this. This feeling. See, for the first time in my life, I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I’m doing what I’m supposed to do. Hell, what I was made to do. The crowd could be silent and I’d still know that. When Aunt Pooh introduced me to hip-hop, Nas told me the world was mine, and I believed it could be. Now, standing here on this stage, I know it is.

I first have to thank my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. It has been quite a journey, and I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. Thank you for carrying me and keeping me. Whatever you want to continue to do through me, I’m yours.