Legally Nappy

Harper Washington In Stone

           I AM HARPER WASHINGTON, my parents are Harris and Malik Wellington. As you can tell we don't have the same last names. My birth parents are Elizabeth and Robert Washington. They were both killed in a car accident. I'm what you say, "a miracle baby". Eliza was pregnant with me. She actually gave birth to me during the car accident, which granted her four hours of living. Once they got to the hospital, everyone assumed she made it. After un-attaching me from her and running test, she was good for the most part. She, unfortunately, died in her sleep. Father tells me to this day they don't get how they didn't see she was internally bleeding. You might consider me heartless for what I'm about to say, but I think nothing of them. Only for the simple fact that I never knew them. I hate whenever Dada would constantly bore me with stories of them. I get his reasoning for it. Yet, talking about them isn't going to make me know them. My two Dads and Father are my parents, not these strangers called Eliza and Robert. Though they were aware something bad may happen to them. Thank god, they chose their two Best Friends from college to be my Godparents. 

I'm thankful for Dada and Father. Dada is Harris. You can describe him as a loving, caring, and best Dad to ever exist. He's the one who looked after me the most whenever Father was at work or had to be in Court. We would clean the house, cook, sing, color, and draw; we even played catch on the lawn one day. But don't twist my words, Father was there for me. I love both of my parents. But Malik, Father, is the one I look up to the most. I love how strict he is and how much he cares about our family. When we first moved to Applebottom, Massachusetts no one was fond of the Two Black Gay Men and their Black Daughter. "The People'' of the town would try to burn our lawn. They took the wheels off of both my parents' cars. They even went so far as to attack me. That was the last straw for Father. For three months he had some hood folk, also known as my extended family on his side; stand guard every night and morning and escort me to school. The White People understood not to f*ck with our family. Did I mention Father is a lawyer? Which is what I love most about him. I remember when I was nine and he was working on this case that was televised. Dada said I couldn't stay up and watch it because I had school in the morning. But I waited for him to go to sleep and stayed up watching it. He ended up catching me in the act. He wasn't mad, instead, we watched it together. It was so cool seeing Father in action. Just when you'd think he was losing, he was really winning. From that day I knew I wanted to be just like him, but better.

               Applebottom is a very strange town. Though, my parents basically are the funds of this city. The only problem is: I'm the only Black girl in this small outdated city, WE'RE the only black and queer family in town. Dada comes from money. The city we lived in was small but homed over 30 families. The closest Middle school was 30 miles away and the high school was 50. My parents, before I was even in school made a plan to build an elementary, Middle, and High school in town. Dada is an architect and home designer, so this was right up his alley. They made a proposal to everyone and ran for it with the city council. They didn't ask for money, this was out of the kindness of their hearts. Once the project was official, Dada made the blueprints and knew he wants me to have a legacy; One that was connected to my birth family. All the schools were dedicated to me. "Karen Maxwell Middle School" was named after my grandmother and "Eliza Washington Heights High School" was named after the woman who gave birth to me. The schools were built by Father and a few of his family members. 

And if I'm being honest. I hate it here. I have two Besties Samantha Henry III and Daisy Smith. Both very much European American. We've been friends with them since Kindergarten. They were the only nice white kids. The others used to make fun of my natural hair. "Ew! What is that bush on your head?" Asked Christopher Reed. His father works with my father. They actually used to date. when Father demanded to go public, his father called mine the F-Slur and went on to marry the woman who gave birth to Christopher. I was six years old when I heard that vile comment and it spook me to my core. I was told that my natural hair was beautiful. It made me question myself. So, when Dada picked me up from school. I asked him if he could flat iron my hair.