Beauty Lane: an Introduction

Disclaimer, this story contains a lot of political elements and racial elements, it is tied directly to American slavery. If you don't like to see bad things happening to black women, then you should pass this one by.

But if you're a bit dented like yours truly, then you are in good company. Sit back and enjoy.

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Acceptability Politics

There is a particular county within the United States where old traditions were changed instead of ended. That isn't actually a new occurrence, the tale told in history books is that slavery ended completely after the American Civil War, but it often emits details such as the Jim Crow laws that went into place immediately after, or the way ex-slaves were often cheated, nickeled and dimed. And very few books teach students about the prison industrial complex where prisoners are often "encouraged" to participate in many number of grueling, thankless jobs with very little in the way of compensation.

But in this particular county, history played out in a different way. And one of the neighborhoods within this county offers a great example of what this place has to offer. Beauty Lane is a collection of streets and a clean, safe suburban neighborhood. Many of the homes have a sort of 1950s "retro modern" feel if that makes any kind of sense, the houses are often two stories with spacious rooms with bright cheery designs. Cute wallpaper featuring scenes of early Americana, reminding the inhabitants to be proud of the history they're a part of. And speaking of the inhabitants, many are black girls of many differing shades. Some are considered mixed or biracial, others are such a dark brown that they are nearly the black vacuum of outer space and are lent an otherworldly beauty as such, but all are welcome. Some are younger than others, and very many are mothers. They take great care of their homes and watch after their neighbors and among many, there is a strong sense of community. The neighborhood is also filled with churches, nearly one on every block. Every afternoon, the collective ringing of churchbells send a vibrational force through the county like nothing else.

Of course, they also take care of their homes because there are rules in this community, and everyone who's been living here more than a week knows the importance of being a good girl. See, some girls might have been here decades, but they aren't technically the owners of their homes, they are renting from the men who keep this community running. These men like to make sure law and order is maintained and though everyone here is on their best behavior at all times, there are still patrol cars are told to patrol the streets repeatedly to make sure Beauty Lane's many strict rules are being adhered to.

At eleven AM a disturbance was noted in the Kiss household. This was unusual, since Anita was an older girl who was very behaved. She'd been living here all her life since her family arrived in the 60s, and since her 18th birthday in 1985, Anita had taken to her lessons like a duck takes to water. She quickly developed a reputation for bending over backwards to please her superiors, and especially going the extra mile in an effort to avoid the "maintenance punishments" that were routinely dolled out. And of course her efforts never worked, the effort and positive attitude was always noted and appreciated. However, her daughter Jennifer was a different story.

In this county, the nature of how relationships work means that biracial results of couplings are nothing new, but it was recognized early on that if that was the majority of households, then in a few generations Beauty Lane might lose its special qualities that the men love so much. So, in addition to luring in new women(soon to be girls) with promises of cheap housing and plenty of job opportunities, this county also set up a series of systems in place, working with sperm donation clinics around the country(and even expanding into parts of Africa) to get the healthiest samples from men who are most likely to produce daughters. Then, a few of the more responsible girls are given the privilege of becoming proud mothers through the miracle of artificial insemination. Young ones are given great schooling and are cared for. And this county just so happens to have a "women's college"(Out-of-towners often call themselves women, and have to be coaxed into the way things work here.) where the brightest female minds in the country are lured in with all kinds of attractive scholarships and advanced programs. The thinking is, "if girls are going to succeed, they should succeed here."

However, Jennifer ended up going to a different college out of state. Which meant that when she came back at the age of 25, she was a rather prickly pear. Away from the churchbells, away from the specialized food and unable to be corrected by her community and peers, she came back a bit wild. Dark lipstick, long twisted locs(that she insisted were not dreadlocks) and a penchant to stand her ground. Girls here are taught and encouraged to take pride in themselves but in Jennifer, that pride had never been tempered with a few hard falls' worth of humility. So on this Friday morning at eleven AM, Jennifer was back home listening to music quietly in her own room while her mother cleaned and vacuumed downstairs. Anita was wearing a thin sundress as always that clung to her thick full figure, her straightened hair coming down in waves. Jennifer, meanwhile, was wearing a baggy green t-shirt with equally baggy jeans that were ripped at the very ends.

This might seem like a non-issue, but Jennifer's music was an outside influence, something that had not been screened and pre-approved by the HOA. Moreover, instead of listening to it from a pre-approved radio, with headphones that had been built in-house, Jennifer was listening to it directly on her computer. Outside technology, a very dangerous influence. So, a squad car had been sent to deal with the issue, but it erupted into a much larger issue with Jennifer giving the officer a piece of her mind, yelling at him on the front lawn while everybody watched. Anita, her mother, could feel her embarrassment rising as she fidgeted and tried nervously to pull her daughter back, to no avail.

The officer, for his part, was very relaxed, with a smile on his face as he tried to smooth things over. "Jenny, you seem a little stressed. Have you tried uhh what was it, 'slave yoga'? I hear that's popular in the more affluent parts of the country."

Jennifer simply closed her eyes, giving a soft chortle before looking at the man with an incredulous look on her face, her hair framing her lovely face beautifully. The phrase 'if looks could kill' wasn't quite apt here, but perhaps 'if looks could sarcastically protest' fit the expression in her dark brown eyes a bit better. Along her irises there were occasional specks of gold.

"Slave yoga, don't get me fucking started. It's not bad enough white women had to co-opt something that wasn't theirs, stripping out all of the religious importance to turn it into a beach body exercise, but now they're pretending to roleplay the apocalyptic event that was chattel slavery? The darkest stain on our country, an institution that ripped apart families and decimated an entire continent? Are they thinking of that, or are they thinking that they look real cute in a collar, while pretending to be some sheik's harem girl? Get the fuck out of here with that bullshit, Officer Friendly, no offense."

The way Jennifer gestured with her hand at the end, it seemed that when she said 'no offense', it wasn't entirely genuine. She was so heated that she didn't notice another officer coming along to the side of Anita in the back, taking the older larger girl by the arm and instructing her to step backward. Anita knew that she was in for a long agonizing weekend, and there was a deep anger swelling up deep inside of her since she didn't even do anything to deserve it. But like a pro, she pushed it down and surrendered. She knew that everyone else on the block was watching what was happening, some were out on the lawn, some were watching through their windows. Anita and her girl were going to be all the talk at their church. Was it possible to blush and have your blood run cold at the same time? Involuntarily her cunt clenched like a fist, the way it always did when something blatantly unfair was happening.

"And another thing," Jennifer said coolly, feeling more and more confident with every word, "I noticed that word you used, 'affluent', I can read between the lines and I know what you were trying to say. This is an upscale neighborhood, look at these beautiful homes, look at the way these hardworking women are dressed. In your mind, is 'affluent' only applicable if the neighborhood is majority white? How dare you."

For his part, the officer put his arms up, placing his hands behind his head as he stretched and then relaxed. This was deliberate, showing the "young woman" that her hostility did not warrant an equally hostile response. Police here didn't carry guns, and they were actually coached in conflict de-escalation - though some had a bit of fun stirring the pot, and thus justifying a reprimand. Officer Wilson was one of those. After a moment, after he was sure that he wasn't going to interrupt her tirade, he looked up almost sleepily at the younger officer, and at the older girl currently meditating on her dismal future.

"Anita, won't you be a dear and invite us inside? Your daughter is a very opinionated and fiery young lady, and I'd like us all to be able to have a long conversation in a calm, safe environment."

It sounded like a request, and carried a soft lilting tone, but Anita was as adept at reading between the lines as her daughter. As Jennifer opened her mouth to protest, to point out that they didn't have a right to enter their home, Anita found her voice and spoke over the younger girl. "Yes sir, Officer Wilson, right away. Please come inside!" It wasn't innuendo, but both cops couldn't help but smirk anyway. As for Jennifer, she looked less confident, and glanced at her mother, disappointed. The feeling seemed to be mutual.

And as they all went inside, the jasmine trees on every street swayed in the breeze, as many fell to the ground to litter along the sidewalk.

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Wilson sat comfortably in Anita's usual chair, gesturing at Jennifer to take the seat across from him. The younger officer(at about 20 he was younger than Jennifer, but he still had a lot more authority in this environment) stood with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops. He hadn't yet relaxed into a role of dominance, he was too eager to flex his might. In time he'd simmer down, though, once he'd gotten it out of his system.

But, Wilson decided that he might want to burn some of that energy now. So he looked up at Anita with a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Say, wouldn't you be a dear and go into the other room for a bit? Officer Jacob, have a chat with the girl and see if we can't work out this silly 'noise complaint' amicably, yeah?"

Anita nodded quickly, "Yes sir, I'll go right away", and the two of them were off in the living room, directly behind young Jennifer. That left her and Wilson sat at the kitchen table, with a bowl of fruit between them while the overhead lamp bathed the room in yellow light. Poor Jennifer was trying to figure out where, when and how the power dynamic had shifted, and where her own mettle had gone. Earlier, Officer Wilson had put his hand on her bicep to lead her to the house, and she found herself following before she could think about it rationally. And though her brain screamed at her to pull her arm away violently and tell him off, all she could manage was to roll her shoulders, to subtly suggest through body language that she was uncomfortable. Then his hand switched to her lower back and that had been even worse.

That's how things had been in this neighborhood ever since she'd been a girl. For a brief moment during college it seemed she had finally grown out of that meek shell, but it was alarming her how easy it was to fall back into old habits. Behind her were the muffled sounds of speech, of the officer speaking almost angrily at her mother, and her mother showing way, way too much deference. It was embarrassing.

Wilson spoke suddenly. "It's embarrassing, isn't it?" Jennifer looked up, startled out of her mental sand castle by the wave that suddenly hit her. "I understand, you're a young girl who had a bit of independence out in the world, and now you're here again and there are all these rules you have to follow. Rules that make no sense, at least not in your mind. But those rules are what keep us going strong. What are those called again?"

Jennifer turned her head. "What are what called?"

"Your hair, the way it's all twisted. You said they're not dreadlocks?"

At this her eyes rolled again and she felt that old fire starting to build up again. "No they aren't dreadlocks, they're just called locs. El Oh See, LOC." Wilson seemed to be writing something, and spoke up again.

"So, why is that, are those initials?"

"I don't really feel like I want to sit here and describe everything about my culture to you. There's not really any reason for you to know every in and out of what everything means and why."

"Don't you feel that's a little insular?" Wilson was looking right at her, but in his peripheral vision he could see a beautiful patterned sundress being pulled up, revealing an even more beautiful woman in what looked like purple underwear(including brassiere.). The sight of Anita made him smile every time, but perhaps Jennifer interpreted that smile as condescension towards her.

"It's supposed to be insular, not everything is for your consumption. Our artforms, everything we make for ourselves ends up watered down when you get your hands on it, and then before you know it we have things like corporate jazz, rapping Flinstones characters and every dance under the sun being butchered on tiktok by white girls who just don't get it." The whole time she had been speaking she didn't notice the rhythmic thumping echoing off the walls of the living room, but now that she was finished saying her piece, her face dropped as she frowned and furrowed her brows. She was trying to figure out what that was and fighting against her own mind because deep down, she did know.

Luckily for her, Wilson spoke up and distracted her again. "But don't you think it's good when everybody shares with everybody? When the pilgrims got here, all them people in that rickety boat would have died if nobody shared with them."

"Yeah, and what happened then? What the fuck happened then? I'll tell you what happened, not a lot of 'sharing', more like a lot of pillaging and a fuckton of r-" a whimpering groan from the living room completely shook the college girl out of her next talking point, and she felt herself turning around in her seat, wide-eyed as if in a trance. Anita was bent at the waist and grabbing her own ankles, both her fingernails and toenails a matching, lovely glossy shade of purple that matched her lingerie. And it was easy to see that because both her heavyset wire bra and her panties were scattered on the floor next to those hands and feet. Her dress and wedge heels were also gone and scattered around, leaving the thick older girl in only a garterbelt that accented her. Her hair was hanging down, but from this angle Jennifer could easily see her face, her mouth set in a grim line as she exhaled air roughly through her lovely nose. And she was doing that with every hard impact that was delivered to the very easy target that was her ass, courtesy of Officer Jacob. The younger man with bulging biceps and dense forearms that lead to shovels for hands, his technique was rudimentary at best but he'd gotten through life so far by just powering through. Unfortunately for the suffering Anita, that included this spanking.

Watching the rippling jiggle that every hard smack created, seeing the way her mother tried not to holler(while failing every so often), a few thoughts suddenly struck Jennifer simultaneously. 1, the realization that because she'd always been able to get her way and essentially 'bully' her mother whenever they had a disagreement, meant others could probably do the same. Jennifer never even thought of it as 'bullying' before this point, but now the word was stuck in her mind and she was feeling guilty without understanding why. 2, the mystery of the thumping ghost had finally been solved, the sound that sometimes woke young Jenny up in her bed, terrified that it was a monster or even old Krampus who she'd heard about in school every year. But now that Jennifer was an adult and learning the truth, she wished it could have been zombies instead.

Officer Jacob was sweating a little, and stepped back to wipe her brow which gave Anita a moment of reprieve. In that moment Jennifer willed her legs to move, willed herself to fling up to her feet, to leap off the table and jump at the officer's head. Instead, she seemed to be Argo trudging through the swamp of sadness, feeling herself push up with zero strength in her legs or thighs. Two parts of her brain were at war, one part hoping to call for an adult to do something, the other half trying to convince the first that she was, in fact, the adult. She was a woman, and that meant she'd have to

"Stop. Come here, girl." Jennifer was snapped out of her focus, and that brief distraction was all that was needed for the house of cards to fold. She looked over and saw that Officer Wilson was guiding her again by the arm, and saw that her own legs were moving with a lot more direction and certainty than they were a moment ago. Out the corner of her eye she saw the younger officer taking off his belt, and she heard a noise from her mother that she had never heard before. But she couldn't stop herself from following the direction of Officer Wilson. Not even when he sat down in a different chair, and brought her to his lap. "Let's go, Jenny, sit right here." He patted his lap as if he were Santa Clause, and Jennifer was surprised that she was doing as she was told, without much complaint. Then a sound like a gunshot echoed suddenly across the walls and Jennifer startled like a deer in the woods. She knew that was the sound of a belt hitting flesh, and the sound of a wail in the living room confirmed it.

"hhHAWWWNH! PLEASE!"

"Hush up and take it, girl.", the voice of Jacob commanded in the distance.

Officer Wilson kept hold of Jennifer to keep her from rabbiting, and kept touching her in ways to 'calm' her, stroking her thigh, petting her hair, occasionally taking hold of her wrist to feel her pulse, or feeling her back to see how tense her muscles were. And the answer was, every time, 'very'. So, eventually, to the rhythm of a belt spanking in the background, Officer Wilson spoke. He made sure his voice was heard above the howls and gruff masculine yelling.

"If you're wondering why you aren't running away, or why you aren't trying to take my partner's head off just for doing his job, your natural fight-and-flight response has been improved and smoothed over some, and it has been for a long time. Then you went away to college for a while, and we knew your progress would be set back at least a few years, but in my opinion it was worth it to see what was gained. Your mother's been sharing your grades and your school essays with the community, and your passion for fighting against injustice and unfairness is powerful. You could make a great social worker one day, helping the girls out there in this country who don't have what we have. Living out on the streets through no fault of their own, running away from broken homes, or families who just can't afford to feed them or care for their needs. You're going to do a lot of good for the world, but we have to mold you a little more first."