Punching the Air

by Ibi Zoboi

like everything that I am, that I’ve ever been counts as being guilty

Did you ever see Amal get angry? the prosecutor asked Ms. Rinaldi It’s the most important question in my trial Am I angryAm I violentAm I— Objection, Clyde said Sustained, the judge said Did Amal ever display emotions that were— Yes, Ms. Rinaldi said That’s why I work so hard with Amal To channel his anger into his art And I know, I know that right then and there she didn’t even have to look my way because she won’t see me She’s never seen me She only sees my paintings and drawings as if me and what I create are two different worlds There’s a stone in my throat and a brick on my chest

Their words and what they thought to be their truth were like a scalpel shaping me into the monster they want me to be

I turn around to see Umi and the stones fall out of my mouth But he was still— I didn’t— Umi— More stones clog my throat and I am choking on my words I am choking on my tears I am choking I am I am choking I am choking on my tears and I am choking on my words More stones clog my throat Umi— I didn’t— But he was still— and the stones fall out of my mouth I turn around to see Umi

And we stepped onto the tipping scales of Lady Justice with her eyes blindfolded, peeking through slits because that rag is so fucking old worn-out, stretched thin, barely even there

because where I come from jail or death were the two options she handed to us because where he comes from the American Dream was the one option she handed to them So here we are, blind Lady Justice I see you, too

They believed those lies about me and made themselves a whole other boy in their minds and replaced me with him

I work for you, Amal Only you, Clyde had said So you’re in this for the money, I said Amal— Umi interrupted He gets to ask me all the questions and I don’t get to ask him none? I said Then he said, I’m in it for justice And that’s when I knew for sure that my lawyer speaks with two mouths So when Clyde says, I’m sorry, Amal We did all we could after the officers handcuff me I remember that he never really told me he was on my side

She said her church was organizing a trip to Senegal and we’d go to someplace called Goré Island and there’d be something called the Door of No Return It’s where slaves had to go through to get on a ship sailing to America It’s where African people lost everything and stepped out into a future they didn’t know So when the officers hold that door open leading out of the courtroom I think of that trip that never happened and the Door of No Return My life, my whole damn life before that courtroom before that trial before that night was like Africa And this door leads to a slave ship And maybe jailmaybe jail isis America

but somewhere in our souls we are both scratching at the walls yelling to the sky punching the air to let everyone and everything know that we are in here still alive

On the day of my conviction I memorize my inmate number my crime my time On the day of my conviction I forget my school ID number my top three colleges my class schedule

Umi grabbed and twisted my lips when she heard me say nigga for the first time I was five and I thought it was just a word like any other word like my ABCs and 123s like the old heads on the corner my cousins from around the way my friends at the park calling me little nigga little nigga little nigga like it’s my name Don’t you ever, ever let me hear you say that word again, you hear me? You’re not a nigger and neither are the boys you hang around with, nor any boy for that matter Do you hear me, Amal?

Have you ever tried to harm yourself? Have you ever had thoughts of harming yourself? Are you having thoughts of harming yourself now? On a scale of one to ten how likely are you to harm yourself now? And I wonder if these questions are really suggestions

I look up It’s one of the white officers who stares down at me with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up He leans on the table His arms close to my face close enough for me to glance down at his tattoos and I stare and stare and I see what he wants me to see A black baby A black baby with a ropea rope around its neckaround its neck My eyes are glued to that tattoo I stare at the details, the lines on the rope the baby’s eyes closed, with tears coming down its cheeks Its skin made blacker against his pale arm It makes me want to scream There’s a stone in my throat There’s a brick on my chest The stone turns into a mountain in my throat The brick turns into a building on my chest There’s a rumbling in my bones So I get up and push the table away wanting that officer to get crushed under its weight or fly into the air and bang his whole body against a wall and die and die and die I don’t even know when it happens He grabs me, and in seconds four officers are on me pressing my head against the cold, hard floor a knee is on my throat my jaw, my face, my head are being crushedcrushed This country and city on my chest splits down the middle The already broken pieces shatter and crush until there is nothing but dust

Umi never made me lock myself away stay in my room when I disappointed her

But there’s no future in these four wallsfour walls boxing me inboxing me in so I punch the air

The tables in the visiting room are some of the few round things in here so many squares so many corners so many boxes It’s like when white folks say things like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole this is what they mean But I’m no square peg More like a round world to myself being forced into so many boxes

Stop killing, brother you are already marked because of your color So why not put us all in jail? Chance we’ll become like snails Chance we won’t rebel On me, they left indelible scars I’m over here spitting rhymes behind bars They thought the box would get me like Kunta in captivity but I’m still free Up north I come from down south with the greatest tool my mouth my words my rhymes dark in skin tone like the dapperest of Dan

talking about history too many young folks living in mystery things I have read and talked about all this bloodshed all this death but neither hurt my ears nor left my eyes in tears I overcame fears not afraid to take a chance ’cause pain grips my heart as I look to the motherland I am here in captivity Who is more free you or me?

So when I’m pulled out of the line by two of the guys who had stepped to me and Kadon I drop my soap and towel make my body an earthquake but they are mountains and they drag me to some dark room and close the door I take blow after blow after blow after blow until my breath is a dragon hot flames ignite in my soul The taste of copper rises out of my belly and pools in my mouth I know better than to wipe it off I know better than to cry And they leave my body limp and heavy The cold floor against my skin is an ice pack What if hell is a frozen place I’m thereI’m there and I might die here

They can’t kill you in here but they will try, Umi says from across the round table That’s the point Locking you up isn’t enough for themThey will try to crush your spirit until you’re nothing but— Dust we both say together And what does dust do, Amal? What did Maya Angelou say about dust? Umi asks It rises, I whisper

Ms. Rinaldi gave me hell because I didn’t fit into her definition of weird I was a different kind of weird my hair too wild my skin too dark my voice too deep my paintings too colorful my art too free Amal is disruptive she wrote on my report card Amal needs to focus Amal is not prepared for an advanced-level class She failed me over and over again until— She thought she could save me

and soon there was this invisible line we couldn’t cross like we can’t go where the nice places are Can’t touch the nice things because everything about us our skin, our faces, our hair, our words, our music will break things will ruin things will make things ugly just by us being there

All because we were in the wrong place we were in the wrong skins we were in the wrong time we were in the wrong bodies we were in the wrong country we were in the wrong were in the wrong in the wrong the wrong wrong All because they were in the right place they were in the right skins they were in the right time they were in the right bodies they were in the right country they were in the right were in the right in the right the right right We were a mob a gang ghetto a pack of wolves animals thugs hoodlums men They were kids having fun home loved supported protected full of potential boys