Jay / Bri’s Mom Character Analysis

Five years back with her, and yet I still dream about her leaving us. It hits me out of nowhere sometimes. But Jay can't know I dream about it. It'll make her feel guilty, and then I'll feel guilty for making her feel guilty.

"It was nothing," I tell her.

Not that the Garden was ever a utopia, hell no, but before I only worried about GDs and Crowns. Now, I gotta worry about the cops too? Yeah, people get killed around here, and nah, it's not always by the police, but Jay says this was like having a stranger come into your house, steal one of your kids, and blame you for it because your family was dysfunctional, while the whole world judges you for being upset.

Sometimes she babies me, like it's her way of making up for when she wasn't around. I let her do it, too. I wonder though if she only sees me as her baby girl who used to snuggle up with her until I fell asleep. I don't know if the snuggles are for who I am now.

This time, I think the snuggles are for her.

I mean...I don't think she is.

For one, eight years is a hell of a long time to be clean. Two, Jay wouldn't go back to all of that. She knows how much it messed us up. She wouldn't put me and Trey through that again.

But.

She put us through it in the first place.

I almost roll my eyes. How would these people feel if they knew Milez was here to see how messed up we are to remind him how good he's got it? He's gonna go to his nice house in the suburbs and forget this in a week, tops, while we're still struggling.

My situation shouldn't be his after-school special.

"I don't want you to grow up too fast, baby," Jay says. "I did, and it's not something I can ever get back. I want you to enjoy your childhood as much as possible."

"I'd rather grow up than be homeless."

"Hate that you even have to think like that," she murmurs.

"Pooh and her drug-dealing money, saving the day."

It is kinda messed up. Here my brother is, doing everything right, and nothing's coming from it. Meanwhile, Aunt Pooh's doing everything we've been told not to do, and she's giving us food when we need it.

That's how it goes though. The drug dealers in my neighborhood aren't struggling. Everybody else is.

"But," he says, in a way that tells me to wipe the smile off my face, "although I get the song, now people are gonna take your words at face value. And let's be real: You're clueless about half the shit you rapped about. Clips on your hips?" Trey twists his mouth. "You know damn well you don't know what a clip is, Bri."

"Yes I do!" It's the thingy that goes on the thingy on a gun.

She's still not listening to me. "If you would just listen to the song—it's not what they made it out to be, I swear. It's about playing into their assumptions about me."

"You don't get that luxury, Brianna! We don't! They never think we're just playing!"

But it's like how when she does stuff I don't like and says it's "for my own good." This is for hers. I'm willing to do anything to keep that sadness in her eyes from becoming permanent.

"The worst thing I've done is become poor, Mrs. Jackson! [...] The worst thing!" she says. "That's it! Excuse me because I have the audacity to be poor!

[...]

You think I want my babies sitting in the dark? I'm trying, Mrs. Jackson! I go on interviews. I withdrew from school so these kids could have food! I begged the church not to let me go. I'm sorry if it's not enough for you, but good Lord, I'm trying!"

"I want you to look at her for a second, Dr. Cook," Jay says. "Really look at her."

She sets her hand on my back so I have no choice but to stand straight and look him in the eye, too.

"She's sixteen, Dr. Cook," Jay says. "Not a grown woman, not a threat. A child. Do you know how I felt when I was told that two grown men manhandled my child?"

"Do you know what your aunt's biggest problem is?"

I look at the jailhouse. That's kinda obvious at the moment. "She's locked up."

"No. That's not even her biggest problem," says Jay. "Pooh doesn't know who she is, and by not knowing who she is, she doesn't know her worth. So, who are you?"

"What?"

"But I believe she's smarter than that," he says. "Don't you?"

"I know she is."

"Can you act like it then?" I ask, and my voice is super soft. "It's not like anybody else does."

This look of surprise quickly appears in my mom's eyes. Slowly, it's replaced by sadness and, soon, realization.

Five years back with her, and yet I still dream about her leaving us. It hits me out of nowhere sometimes. But Jay can't know I dream about it. It'll make her feel guilty, and then I'll feel guilty for making her feel guilty.

"It was nothing," I tell her.

Not that the Garden was ever a utopia, hell no, but before I only worried about GDs and Crowns. Now, I gotta worry about the cops too? Yeah, people get killed around here, and nah, it's not always by the police, but Jay says this was like having a stranger come into your house, steal one of your kids, and blame you for it because your family was dysfunctional, while the whole world judges you for being upset.

Sometimes she babies me, like it's her way of making up for when she wasn't around. I let her do it, too. I wonder though if she only sees me as her baby girl who used to snuggle up with her until I fell asleep. I don't know if the snuggles are for who I am now.

This time, I think the snuggles are for her.

I mean...I don't think she is.

For one, eight years is a hell of a long time to be clean. Two, Jay wouldn't go back to all of that. She knows how much it messed us up. She wouldn't put me and Trey through that again.

But.

She put us through it in the first place.

I almost roll my eyes. How would these people feel if they knew Milez was here to see how messed up we are to remind him how good he's got it? He's gonna go to his nice house in the suburbs and forget this in a week, tops, while we're still struggling.

My situation shouldn't be his after-school special.

"I don't want you to grow up too fast, baby," Jay says. "I did, and it's not something I can ever get back. I want you to enjoy your childhood as much as possible."

"I'd rather grow up than be homeless."

"Hate that you even have to think like that," she murmurs.

"Pooh and her drug-dealing money, saving the day."

It is kinda messed up. Here my brother is, doing everything right, and nothing's coming from it. Meanwhile, Aunt Pooh's doing everything we've been told not to do, and she's giving us food when we need it.

That's how it goes though. The drug dealers in my neighborhood aren't struggling. Everybody else is.

"But," he says, in a way that tells me to wipe the smile off my face, "although I get the song, now people are gonna take your words at face value. And let's be real: You're clueless about half the shit you rapped about. Clips on your hips?" Trey twists his mouth. "You know damn well you don't know what a clip is, Bri."

"Yes I do!" It's the thingy that goes on the thingy on a gun.

She's still not listening to me. "If you would just listen to the song—it's not what they made it out to be, I swear. It's about playing into their assumptions about me."

"You don't get that luxury, Brianna! We don't! They never think we're just playing!"

But it's like how when she does stuff I don't like and says it's "for my own good." This is for hers. I'm willing to do anything to keep that sadness in her eyes from becoming permanent.

"The worst thing I've done is become poor, Mrs. Jackson! [...] The worst thing!" she says. "That's it! Excuse me because I have the audacity to be poor!

[...]

You think I want my babies sitting in the dark? I'm trying, Mrs. Jackson! I go on interviews. I withdrew from school so these kids could have food! I begged the church not to let me go. I'm sorry if it's not enough for you, but good Lord, I'm trying!"

"I want you to look at her for a second, Dr. Cook," Jay says. "Really look at her."

She sets her hand on my back so I have no choice but to stand straight and look him in the eye, too.

"She's sixteen, Dr. Cook," Jay says. "Not a grown woman, not a threat. A child. Do you know how I felt when I was told that two grown men manhandled my child?"

"Do you know what your aunt's biggest problem is?"

I look at the jailhouse. That's kinda obvious at the moment. "She's locked up."

"No. That's not even her biggest problem," says Jay. "Pooh doesn't know who she is, and by not knowing who she is, she doesn't know her worth. So, who are you?"

"What?"

"But I believe she's smarter than that," he says. "Don't you?"

"I know she is."

"Can you act like it then?" I ask, and my voice is super soft. "It's not like anybody else does."

This look of surprise quickly appears in my mom's eyes. Slowly, it's replaced by sadness and, soon, realization.