Sister Mischief by Laura Goode

shyster smile —“would you like to tell me why you did not sign the policy?”
     
    “I’d be happy to,” she says. “We didn’t sign the policy because it’s narrow-minded and counterproductive. First of all, outlawing hip-hop is ridiculous, considering it’s everywhere, and second, a policy like this prevents anyone from
learning
from hip-hop.”
     
    He sizes up the rest of us. “And this is how all of you feel?” We nod.
     
    I pull out a folder with a copy of our application to be a recognized student group.
     
    “The four of us are definitely in agreement on that,” Tess says, “and that’s why we’ve applied to create a discussion group about hip-hop music and culture.” She smiles at him. “We thought that if we showed how hip-hop can be a positive force for debate and learning, the administration might reconsider its ban on it. In case you haven’t gotten a chance to look it over, here’s a copy of the application we submitted about a week ago.”
     
    Nordling takes the paper and gazes vacantly at it for a moment.
     
    NAME AND PURPOSE OF GROUP:
     
    Sister Mischief: Hip-Hop for Heteros and Homos is proposed as a discussion group for queer inquiry — inqueery — into the language, music, and culture of hip-hop. As a safe space for GLBT students, the group will also serve as Holyhill’s first gay-straight alliance. By directing our questions about gender, race, class, and art toward both the discipline of hip-hop and the terrain of Holyhill High School in a spirit of tolerance, we hope to break down boundaries of what a hip-hop language, or a Holyhill student identity, may include.
     
    NUMBER OF MEMBERS (ESTIMATED):
     
    There are currently four members, though several hundred are expected to join when they realize that our group is way more fun than other groups.
     
    ARE YOU REQUESTING FUNDING?
     
    Not at this time.
     
    MULTIMEDIA/TECHNOLOGY REQUIREMENTS (PLEASE LIST ALL):
     
    Audio/video equipment for listening to music and viewing films; Internet-equipped meeting space.
     
    FACULTY ADVISER:
     
    We’re working on it.
     
     
     
    Nordling clears his throat. “Yes, Ms. Grinnell, I’m familiar with this application, and I’m sorry to have to inform you that it’s been denied.”
     
    “Why is that?” I ask. “Because it violates your hip-hop policy or because you don’t want to deal with the fallout from creating a gay-straight alliance at Holyhill?”
     
    “Is that what this group is?” he asks dubiously, holding up our application. “Because to me, it looks like a group without a faculty adviser dedicated to the study of a music and culture of violence, drugs, and licentious sex. I must say, I’m surprised that four bright girls such as yourselves would be so devoted to music that objectifies and degrades women.”
     
    “I think if you studied it more, Mr. Nordling,” I retort, “you’d find that hip-hop isn’t nearly that simple, and that discussing and exploring its questions of culture and gender and identity are fascinating, legitimate courses of inquiry. Inqueery.”
     
    Our conversation is interrupted by a knock at the door. Marilyn DiCostanza, our AP English teacher and head of the department, pokes her head in.
     
    “Ross,” she says, “sorry to interrupt, but what are these signed school policy sheets my homeroom is handing in? I don’t remember any new school policies being discussed at the last faculty meeting.”
     
    “This isn’t the ideal time to discuss it, Marilyn.” Principal Nordling maintains a forced smile.
     
    “Now’s the time to discuss why a Christian prayer group is allowed to meet on school grounds but our hip-hop GSA isn’t,” I say.
     
    “We could use a faculty adviser, Mrs. D.,” Tess pipes up.
     
    Mrs. DiCostanza smiles. “It looks as though you have your hands full right now, Ross. I’ll catch up with you later.”
     
    “Thank you, Marilyn,” he manages through pinched lips.
     
    “Mr. Nordling, not all