Sirens might be exclusively Black women, but all Black women aren’t sirens. We’re not even only sirens. Naema, for instance, is a different kind of different—one that manifests in any and every racial ethnicity, which is probably why despite having a pretty creepy mythos attached to them, elokos are still thoroughly adored. (The mythos is untrue, of course, but then so is mine and that hasn’t changed anyone’s mind.) “I’m sorry, Tavia,” Naema’s saying. “Did I interrupt?” “Nope.” I smile because no one will mention how her eloko-ness comes up in every rehearsal.
