Confessions: I Hit A Girl

The rage boiled in my throbbing brain and before I knew it, I was grabbing her. Fists balled up, I let loose with a left hand that landed squarely on her temple. I knew I was not supposed to put my hands on a female, but I had to assert myself as a man. No more would I tolerate her disrespect...

I'm getting ahead of myself. If you read my comments on Diva's post yesterday, then you already know what I'm writing about. This isn't some domestic violence story; its the story of how me and my sister became cool. I guess I should start at the beginning...

My sister had terrorized me for as long as I can remember. She is two years older than me and always asserted her role as the oldest. My role as the younger brother meant that she could antagonize me whenever the mood struck. It could be something as simple as turning off the Atari when I was about to beat her high score or something as violent as throwing a can of soup at my head. I remember once when we still lived in New York, she tore my Whodini poster off the wall for no good reason (that I can remember.) When I had the nerve to talk back about it, she ripped it to shreds, laughing at me with her friend Sherri. That's what I lived with for many years. I seem to remember her also banging my head on a coffee table, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the hurt I felt at being humiliated by my sister.

All my life, I was told not to hit girls. Matter of fact, I don't know if it was something that had to be told to me more than once. For the most part, I was a good kid and never overtly disobeyed my mother's life lessons. So, instead of fighting back when my sister slapped both my ears and yelled "Stereo!", I just took it. For 13 long years, I was her punching bag. Until this Wednesday night in Savannah, Georgia.

I remember it was a Wednesday because Magnum PI was on. That was my favorite show at the time. It came on at the same time as Dynasty, her favorite show. By this time, we had escaped from New York and were living in the Dirrrty at my grandmother's house. The house was full of 4 generations of women: Grandma Cleo (my great grandmother), my grandmother, my mother and my sister. Throw in me and my little brother, and we had a packed 3 bedroom house. We didn't have our own bedrooms. My sister slept in the living room, I slept in the family room, Lord knows where my brother slept: I think in the room with my mother. Over the years, we had many different sleeping arrangements, from couches, to sofa beds, to cots, to palettes on the floor. I guess that's why I can sleep anywhere now. I don't need a bed to fall asleep, I didn't really have my own until I was in my 20's. But I digress, although its not a total digression, because I needed you all to get the picture of how the house was laid out. There was no privacy, no retreating to your bedroom when you got an attitude. I suppose we could have gone to the garage to sulk, but with the flying roaches and the Savannah humidity, that was really a last option. Let me move on...

At the time, the only color tv that we had access to was in the family room. My sister and I used to fight to get control of the TV after Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy went off and my grandmother retreated to her room (which by the way had a TV with cable.) We had to be pretty sneaky to be the first in the room. Whoever finished their homework first, was more than likely gonna be handed the remote after Alex Trebek dipped. This Wednesday night, I was the victor. I watched Unsolved Mysteries at 8 o clock, but was really just waiting for Magnum to come on at 9. I had control of the TV, the night was mine. At 8:57, my sister came in the room and grabbed the remote from me. She turned to channel 4 like she was gonna watch Dynasty.

Normally when this would happen, I would just go to the other room and watch Magnum on the cheap black and white TV with the rabbit ears. But this night, something came over me. I didn't want to acquiesce to my sister. I wanted to watch Magnum on the big TV. I earned it. I sat through the local news with that annoying Dou.g We.athers as well as Wheel and Jeopardy and darnit, I was in control of the TV (that was the phrase we used.) Why should my big sister just waltz in here and take what I rightfully earned? She's been doing this my whole life, but enough is enough.

At first I told her to give me the remote. Not surprisingly she refused. This went on for a few minutes. "Gimme the remote" "No" "Nikki, Gimme the remote" "No." Then I decided to take it by force. At 13, I was bigger than she was at 15 and I figured I could just snatch it from her. How bout she had a death grip on that remote. It took far more effort than I thought to get it from her, but I finally did. I turned to channel 9 and just caught the opening credits of my show. Thinking it was over, I sat back on the sofa and relished my small victory. That's when Nik walked up to the tv, and unplugged it. Word? You gonna do it like that? I was getting mad. I went and plugged the tv back in, leaving the remote in the spot that I was just sitting. She picked it up and turned right back to Dynasty. Another struggle ensued; Her gripping the remote, me trying to pry it out of her hands. And then she did it... My loving sister swung the remote control at me. This was like 1988 and it wasn't one of those small ones that are out now. It was a huge, industrial strength remote. And it hit me right upside my head.

The rage boiled in my throbbing brain and before I knew it, I was grabbing her. Fists balled up, I let loose with a left hand that landed squarely on her temple. I knew I was not supposed to put my hands on a female, but I had to assert myself as a man. No more would I tolerate her disrespect. I threw punches like a madman, some landed, others missed. I wasn't really hitting Nikki, I was punching away the years of torture I experienced at her hands. When it was over (and I can't remember who broke it up) I felt relieved. I didn't get to watch Magnum that night, but I got something that much better: my dignity!

From that point on, my sister and I have been mad cool. I can't recall a single argument after that day. We actually became friends. I remember when I went to high school, she was a junior. There was a tradition at my high school that the upper classmen would take the freshmen's drawers. It was kinda like a wedgie, except they would pull them so hard that the elastic band would break. It always seemed kinda gay to me, but that was what they did. I didn't have to worry about anybody trying me, because my sister had her friends look out for me (well, that and the fact that I dressed in all black and kept a mean mug like Cube and 'em for my entire freshman year.) When she went to college at Spelman, I used come to Atlanta to hang with her and her cool college friends. When I was a broke college kid, her and her boyfriend at the time drove to Savannah, to pick me up for a Prince concert and then drove me back the same night so I could take my finals. When I moved to Atlanta, she let me and my girl stay with her until we got on our feet. The list can go on and on. We really have been nothing but cool since that night.

Although we have our Don't ask, Don't tell policy, I know that if I ever need anything, Nikki has my back. And that goes both ways. Whatever she needs, she got it. I wonder if we would have been this cool if I never fought back and let her run over me for my entire life. And that's the story of how one night changed my relationship with my sister forever.

BTW, I know I went a little link crazy with all the YouTube joints...