Diva Princess (Laurmani / DC3)

Chapter 14

A/N: You can watch my big booty appreciation video of Lauren, Camila, and Normani above. 

"It's so cute!" Normani beamed.

She had just opened up the box with the pink and black Beretta I had gotten her for Christmas. Yep, I gave in. I also agreed to go with her to a gun class. I figured that I should trust Normani's word on how dangerous Camila can be.

"What is this?" I inquired. When I removed the wrapping from Normani's gift to me, a large album was revealed.

"I got you the best, nerdy gift, ever," she said excitedly. "I paid a genealogist to research your family tree."

"This is fucking awesome!" I shouted. "This is the best gift anyone could have gotten me. I'm gonna fuck you so good tonight. You don't even know."

I ran from the Christmas tree to the couch to flip through my book.

"Hey, what about my gift?" Dinah pouted.

"I'll get to it later," I told her.

I flipped through the pages looking at pictures and mini-biographies of my ancestors while Normani looked on beside me. "Have you looked at this?"

"No. I wanted you to see it first," she said.

When I got to one page, my eyes widened and I gasped. Normani raised an eyebrow and asked me, "Is there something wrong?"

"Normani...I am not white," I told her.

She scrunched together her eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"Look! I have a black ancestor," I informed her.

Normani grabbed my book to take a closer look. "Lauren, she lived over 200 years ago."

"Mani, I'm black!" I shouted.

Normani rolled her eyes. "She's your...hold on" She stopped to count through my ancestors. "She's your great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother. You're like one drop black and all of it is in that big booty of yours."

"My booty, my lips, and my wavy hair. She explains it all," I said.

"Lauren, white people can have wavy hair," Normani countered.

Dinah came over to sit down on the other side of me. "What are you so excited about?"

I yanked my book away from Normani to show the picture to Dinah. "I'm black!"

Dinah hopped up and down in her seat flailing her arms about. "Yay! We're all black."

Normani sighed, "Dinah, for the last time, you're not black."

"Yes, I am," Dinah argued. "I'm 1% Fijian. You need to stop denying our blackness just because we're light-skinned."

I high-fived Dinah. "Yas, sista! All of us from the motherland need to stick together. We shouldn't even be celebrating this white man's holiday. When's Kwanzaa?"

"Let me google it." Dinah pulled out her phone. "It starts tomorrow and ends on New Year."

"Yes!" I said. "We didn't miss it. Let's look up what we're supposed to do."

Normani groaned, "I never thought I would regret tracing your family tree."

"I knew I wasn't white. I just knew it," I cooed.

Normani got up from the couch and walked to the back. I could hear her shut our bedroom door. Dinah and I just looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders. I didn't understand why this was making her so upset.

I normally didn't do this, but I went out to catch the after Christmas sales and bought some stuff for our Kwanzaa celebration. I came across an African store and was in heaven. I'm kind of ashamed at how much I charged on my credit card knowing that I would have to replace my tires soon. I wouldn't have the balance paid off until I received my tax return.

I was so excited about a new outfit I had gotten, I slipped it on over my clothes when I got in the car. I also put on my new head wrap. Normani was sitting in the living room mad when I got home.

"Why did you take down our Christmas tree? I told you that I don't take it down until the New Year," she questioned.

"I needed to make room for our Kwanzaa decorations," I explained.

"And, why do you have on a dashiki and a head wrap?" Normani asked.

I answered, "I'm getting in touch with the African roots the Spanish deprived us Cubans of."

Normani rose up from the couch and snatched the wrap off my head.

"What are you doing? Give it back!" I demanded.

"I've had enough of this cultural appropriation," Normani complained.

"How can I appropriate my own culture?" I argued.

"If you want to celebrate Afro-Cuban culture, I'm not going to stop you; but, this is too much. You're not African, and you know nothing about African culture," said Normani.

I countered, "I'm trying to learn. I thought you would support me, but it looks like you're just a hater."

I could tell that Normani was taking deep breaths to control her anger. Her chest rose and fell repeatedly while she held her head in her hand. Then, she glared at me for a good minute.

"Okay, Lauren. If it is that important to you, I will support you," she conceded.

On the second day of Kwanzaa, I put on a dress made of Kente cloth and lit the candles on the kinara. Dinah came into the dining room wearing the African dress I had bought her.

"Hello, my sista," I greeted Dinah.

Dinah pumped her fist in the air. "Black power!"

Normani stepped out from the back of the house with a painful expression on her face, but I greeted her too. "Jambo."

"What the fuck did you just call me?" Normani snapped.

"Jamba means hello," I explained. "It's Swahili."

"Isn't that a children's book?" Normani asked.

Ignoring her question I looked at her clothing and noticed that she didn't have on the dress that I bought her. "Where are your new clothes?"

"In a box," she replied. "I'm taking them to a charity tomorrow."

I was a little annoyed that she would just give away the stuff I bought for her, but I should have asked her if she wanted it first. I couldn't force Normani to embrace her African roots more. She cussed me out after I suggested that she take her weave out, so I won't be going there again. At least she doesn't straighten her hair with those cancer-causing relaxers.

Normani looked at the decorations on the table picking them up and examining them. She found the book I was reading and picked it up. Then, she gave me a dirty look.

"You ARE reading a children's book. You're trying to learn Swahili from a children's book," Normani observed.

I could feel myself turn red. "I can't afford Rosetta Stone right now."

Every day of Kwanzaa, Dinah and I read the African Pledge and Principles of Blackness while Normani listened and gave us a look of disgust. On the sixth day of the celebration, we had a huge feast. On the seventh and last day, we exchanged gifts. I gave Dinah a book on the African diaspora and Normani a book on African history. Dinah gave Normani and me beautiful kaftans. Normani gave us nothing.