Excessive Force
“C’mon, Nikia!”
“Get her, Nikia; what the fuck are you doing?!”
“Nikia, you gonna lose to a White girl?”
Nikia was doubled over with her arms wrapped around the blonde’s waist, staring at the mud beneath her as the blonde sent punch after punch after punch into her soft brown stomach. The punches weren’t even that hard, but to Nikia, it was the humiliation that was hurting worse. She pulled free of the blonde’s grasp and backed up, her mouth hanging open and all the desire to fight gone from her as the blonde cracked her with a punch to her jaw, knocking her down.
“Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit! That White girl got hands! She got hands!”
Nikia always had a pretty big mouth. Growing up in New Orleans and being the youngest of six children, with five older brothers, Nikia used to fight them and they would make her fight other girls in the neighborhood. She won some and she lost some, but she always gave a good account of herself. Sometimes, she wouldn’t even have to fight; her mouth and her attitude and natural intimidating cursing style were enough to make another girl back down. Nikia was a tomboy; she had long black hair all the way down to her butt, nice honey colored skin, very large breasts and a large butt, but a soft stomach and a big thighs. Nikia loved to fight, especially boys; she would sucker punch a guy she liked in the stomach or shove a guy who was disrespecting her or one of her friends into a locker and throw him all over the hallway, but she was only 5’6”. She got to see how things were done and learned how to defend herself watching her father, who was a detective for the New Orleans Police Department (NOPD). This kept the guys she dated in line, but also scared a lot of them away.
When she got to be eighteen, she met Merrill, the blonde who was beating her. Nikia was too out of breath to know how she got into that mess, or how she was losing to Merrill, who was about 5’5” with a pretty nice figure, but had her curly blonde hair in a ponytail, blue eyes and a round face… she looked like she couldn’t fight at all, but here she was, picking Nikia apart in front of Nikia’s friends and everyone in the Desire projects who came out to watch. Why were they fighting? Nikia would find out later that she had been lied to. Someone told her that Merrill’s older brother and his friends had beaten up one of Nikia’s older brothers at a Tulane football game. The same lie was told to Merrill, only in reverse and they told her that her boyfriend had been beaten up. Merrill wasn’t there to fight, though; she was there to talk. Merrill had grown up poor in a trailer park out in Chalmette and had moved to New Orleans, hoping to go to Loyola University to study law, but because her family didn’t have enough money and even getting financial aid and students loans wouldn’t be able to cover tuition and cost of living, Merrill had to settle for Delgado Community College. That was fine by her because most of the Criminal Justice majors who came out of Delgado would be accepted into Loyola to get their Bachelor’s; DCC was like a farm system for Loyola.
Nikia was easy to annoy and very hotheaded; she believed anything she was told, especially in regards to people talking shit about her or her family. So once she found out that her brother had been jumped, she didn’t call him to see if it was true; she went to find Merrill and Merrill went to find her. Why they would fight each other instead of the people who were really responsible… I have no idea. People have fought over dumber things, especially in New Orleans and probably in your home town too. Young minds are easily manipulated into the youtube bullshit fights you see with girls trying to kill each other and guys standing around filming and pummeling anyone who tries to break them up. Nikia didn’t waste time; there were a lot of Black girls standing around; Merrill didn’t know who was Nikia, but she knew once that right hand hit her nose. Merrill’s head snapped back and Nikia threw a hard hook to the White girl’s stomach. Nikia loved this punch because going to the body takes the air and confidence out of your opponent and Nikia spent many times laughing at the guys and girls she stopped cold, as well as their groaning panting reactions, just by a hard shot to the gut.
“Whoop that bitch!”
“Get her Nikia!!”
“Why are they fighting? Who is that White girl?”
“Who gives a shit? Kick her ass, Nikia!”
Merrill staggered back, holding her stomach. The punch hurt and Merrill feared she would get jumped and never really know why. Other than her boyfriend, who was Black, his family, and her friends, Merrill didn’t know too much about Black people, and was quick to admit it. She was a White girl from Chalmette, which is known for, on many levels, rednecks and racists, but she didn’t believe the stereotypes about Black people and was a living contradiction of the stereotypes about White people from Chalmette. Her boyfriend Ahmad exposed her to the simple manner of thinking that so many people seem to avoid because of their own stupidities.
Black people and White people have no real differences between them, especially southern Blacks and Whites. They eat the same kinds of food; they watch the same sports; they play the same games; they have the same deep rooted religious faith and the same flaws in judgment and some of the members of both cultures can be the most racist people in the world, not only to other races, but to people within their own race who go against the stereotype. You’ll find that there are people like that wherever you go in life and they will be of every color in the rainbow; whether or not you will be foolish enough to believe that all people who look a certain way or talk a certain way also act a certain way is on you. Even the biggest whore in the world cannot claim to know everyone and people who stereotype, no matter what race, gender, or sexuality they are or are stereotyping, are stupid. Blacks and Whites alike would see her with Ahmad and hate them both for it, but their only concern was their love for each other. “As long as we’re straight, fuck the world, baby,” is what Ahmad would say to her as he ran his finger down the side of her cheek.
“Why did you hit me?” Merrill said
The answer she got, were more punches. Nikia was surprised; Merrill’s stomach wasn’t as soft as she thought it would be. It wasn’t hard either, but when the punch landed, her abs did tighten and she didn’t go down or even bend that much like Nikia thought she would. Merrill was wearing a white t-shirt, a pair of green jogging pants with the Delgado logo on them, and some white sneakers. Nikia hit Merrill in the nose again and with an “unnhhh!” the White girl almost went down. She steadied herself as Nikia was coming in; Nikia saw the look of anger in Merrill’s eyes and went right at her, but hesitated for a second… that was just enough time for Merrill to kick her in the stomach. “GOOOUUUGGGHHH!!!” Nikia was lifted up on her toes with the kick; air and saliva flew from her mouth as she doubled over and went down to her knees holding her stomach.
“Get up, Nikia! What you doing, girl?”
“You can’t lose to a White girl! Hit that bitch back!!”
Merrill looked around. Was that all this was about? What was she doing here; she kept thinking that to herself. Could she ever fit in? Her love had put a black stain on her heart; it covered her, made her strong, protected her from the hatred around her, but here she was, once again in the middle of racial chaos. Her own family had rejected her decision to date a Black man and told her that she wasn’t welcomed back in Chalmette. Her own older brothers would call and leave all sorts of nasty, racial slur ridden voicemails on her cell phone and apartment phone threatening to do all sorts of things to Ahmad; Merrill would often consider breaking up with him to save him the trouble of dealing with it, but he wouldn’t have any of that. “This is a world for all of us. Just like the song says, ‘love ain’t got no color.’” How could she argue with that? The threats were so bad that Merrill started taking boxing classes; which wasn’t that far off from her martial arts classes back in Chalmette. Her father had boxed as an amateur and been a wrestler in high school. She’d often look at his balled up cauliflower ears and jaw, that was broken many years ago, but had healed at an odd angle. She would study tapes of boxing and would watch her Dad’s film collection behind his back on the VCR, learning the techniques and nuances.
Her brothers were the ones doing all the fighting and getting into trouble; growing up with those traditional “Southern values” meant being at church in dresses on Sunday while Dad stayed home and watched the Saints lose then went on a drunken cursing rant. It meant being respectful to elders with bad breath and hands that traveled places they shouldn’t. It meant going to school with prissy girls who had more and crying when they made fun of you for wearing the same dress three days straight, and it meant getting into fights with every girl in the trailer park who wanted your shoes or the boy they thought you were seeing. Merrill didn’t like to fight once she started getting into them. Hurting people wasn’t something she enjoyed doing. She would stand and cover up and let herself get hit; she would cry to avoid having to fight. The first girl she actually hit, she broke her nose. In high school and middle school before, she would let girls who didn’t like her punch her in the stomach as hard as they could as a means to resolve the conflict. But if they hit her again, she would fight them, and she would almost always win.
Nikia came forward, looking to punch Merrill, but she was winded and could only put her hands on the White girl’s shoulders. Merrill wasn’t going to wait to see what Nikia would do; she drove an uppercut deep into Nikia’s belly and the Black girl doubled over with an “OOUGH!!” Nikia placed her hands around Merrill’s waist and tried to push her back, but Merrill continued to work over her stomach until Nikia pulled free, took a punch to the jaw, and went down into the mud. Nikia could hear her friends laughing at her as Merrill mounted her and banged her head into the muddy ground. Merrill’s knee was across Nikia’s stomach and Nikia just couldn’t breath as her beautiful black hair was getting dirty and she was being pummeled in front of everyone. She tried to get up, but as strong as she was, she wasn’t the wrestler that Merrill was. Nikia could pin a girl or guy down and beat him or her with ease, but Merrill actually studied the art and taken self defense classes.
“To a White girl, Nikia? Are you fuckin‘ serious?!”
“Nikia, get the fuck up!!”
“I can’t get up!!” Nikia finally shouted, annoyed with all the yelling and laughing. Merrill hears this and gets off of Nikia, figuring that the fight is over.
“Get up Nikia; one more round!”
“Beat her ass, Nikia!”
Nikia slowly rose to her feet and Merrill looked at her. Nikia was clutching her stomach and pulling mud out of her long wavy black hair.
“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Merrill said, “I’m going home.”
“Bitch, look what you did to my hair!!” Nikia shouted, “My Momma’s gonna kill me!!”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Merrill said, “You hit me and I fought back. Whatever happened to your hair is your fault because I didn‘t pull it.”
“You can’t be mad ‘cause that White girl beat you!”
“Look, now Nikia wanna act all bad after she got whupped.”
Nikia stared at Merrill; the blonde looked back with her mouth open and trying to catch her breath just as Nikia was. Merrill looked into Nikia’s eyes and she saw a look that she had seen before on the faces of many girls who she had fought. The look that didn’t require words because the eyes and the body spoke their own language. That look said, “You beat me. I give up. I don’t want to fight anymore either. I’ll never mess with you again.” Merrill extended her hand to Nikia is a gesture, but Nikia ignored it and sneered at the blonde. Merrill felt sorry for Nikia, but she didn’t completely understand why. When she got home and talked to Ahmad, finding out that he wasn’t jumped and had a great time at the game, he said that a lot of Black people are seen as disgraces if they lose a fight to a White person, especially if it’s a street fight. Merrill said it was the same way with the predominantly Black schools and White schools back home. But they both knew race had nothing to do with it, and so did Nikia.
The loss stung Nikia deep into her core, more than the repeated punches to her stomach, or the kick to the belly that took the wind from her and all of her desire to keep fighting. No one cared how many girls she had beaten or how many guys she pinned down or whether her dad was a cop or not… she was known as the loudmouthed girl who got beat up in the projects by a White girl. She would still get into fights, but she would lose more, especially when she would hear “Nikia couldn’t even beat that White girl!” or “Hit her in her stomach like that White girl who kicked her ass did!!” It weighed heavily on her conscience, even after she found out that she had gotten her ass kicked for nothing. In fact, that only made it worse because she realized Merrill was just an innocent victim of guys wanting to see women fight.
Nikia tried college, but she just couldn’t do it at Loyola; she entered the police academy and became a cop. She was an ace in the shooting range and better at taking down a suspect than most of the guys in the precinct, but because of her father‘s influence, she wasn‘t getting any real work and she didn‘t like that. First, she was just working traffic and showing up at elementary schools and talking to kids about bullying and strangers and stuff like that. She didn’t have to worry about too many male officers sexually harassing her, though it did happen. She loved the way she looked in her uniform; the way her belt would come just below her breasts and the way her shirt would fit tightly around her chest. Her hair was still long and flowing and despite several officers and superiors wanting her to at least put it in a bun or ponytail, she always wore it long. She prepared herself for another Mardi Gras season, the roughest time of year here in The Big Easy.
Merrill was flat on her back and her head was spinning. The punch was harder than she’d ever have thought it would be and she tried to roll with it, but it took her right off her feet. It was the kind of punch that makes you say “whoa; that really was hard.” She looked around, but felt hands reaching down and yanking her to her feet. She stared wearily into the eyes of her opponent. The girl was 6’ even, curly black hair, smooth olive skin, green eyes, and a large smile. Her name was Berta; it was short for something, maybe Alberta, but she was staring deep into Merrill’s blue eyes and drove a knee into her stomach, forcing out a panicked “OOOOUUUGGGHHHH!!!” from the blonde as she crumbled to the floor of the crowded street. Merrill wondered how she had gotten into this; her friends were nowhere in sight and Ahmad was in court trying to reach a settlement for one of his clients. Merrill struggled to get back up, but the taller girl started kicking her ribs and Merrill was rolling in the piss, beer and mud stained street known as Royal while many patrons were watching and laughing. All Merrill had done was step on the taller girl’s foot while trying to get around her… that’s all she did. She even apologized, but the bigger girl punched her.
“You know what, you dumb bitch?” the black haired girl said, slurring her words to show her intoxication, “You look just like this bitch I used to know who fucking used to piss me off back home. I fucking hate you blonde bitches.”
Merrill wanted to roll into a fetal position, but since no one was breaking this up, she scrambled to her feet and tackled the taller girl, knocking her into a bunch of on lookers as the crowd around them continued to build.
“Come on, bitch!” the taller girl said, “Beat me, bitch! Come on, beat me!”
Merrill tried to punch the black haired girl’s stomach, but Merrill’s arms were hooked and she took another knee to her stomach and then, she gets lifted up and slammed on the ground. Merrill heard a “Whoooooooooa…. Ohhhh!!!” from the crowd and felt a horrible pain in her back as she writhed on the ground in agony. Merrill got up again and looked around; the crowd was a blur and she could barely see her opponent from the nausea building in her from the stomach shots and the heat. The dark haired girl was picking her apart with rights and lefts to her face; Merrill was throwing back, but she just wasn’t connecting. This girl was taller, and while she was drunk, she was using her reach and height to beat the fight out of Merrill. An uppercut to Merrill’s stomach caused her to spit up blood and sit on a fire hydrant, only to be hit with a running kick to the same weak spot, let out a piteous “OOOFF!!” and fall on her back, hitting her head hard on the ground. Merrill let out another “AAAUUUGGGHHHH!!!” and sat up just to lie back down from a hard stomp to her stomach, right across her small almond shaped innie navel.
“Come on, bitch!” Berta said
“No more… please… no more…” was Merrill’s answer
“Move!! Police!!” that voice was familiar to Merrill, but she couldn’t remember where she knew it from. She slowly sat up and saw Nikia in full uniform standing over here. The two made eye contact as Nikia is pulling Merrill up and they both sort of jump upon recognition.
“I need EMTs down here asap,” Nikia said into her shoulder radio, “Are you okay? Uffff!!”
Merrill saw Nikia’s body jerk forward, trip over her own, and go down. The voluptuous Black woman fell hard to the ground as Berta stood and reached down to grab Merrill.
“We’re not done yet, bitch!” Berta said as Merrill tried to break free… but she didn’t have to. She saw a honey brown fist go over her shoulder and mash Berta’s nose. Berta dropped Merrill and staggered back as Merrill and Nikia made eye contact once again. Berta came at the cop, charging in and looking to tackle her, but Nikia grabbed her by her shoulders and kneed her hard in the stomach, forcing a “guuuuuhhh!!” from the taller dark haired girl, but Berta forced an “umm!” from Nikia as her shoulder hit that soft stomach. Despite all of the utilities on her belt, Nikia still felt the pain in her tummy and the wind rush out of her, but she kept her grip on Berta and turning her body, hip tossed her hard onto the ground. Berta cried out “Ahhhhh, my fucking back!! Fuck!!!” as Nikia sat on her chest and pinned her arms down. “Cease resisting,” Nikia said. Berta had a lot of fight though, and hit Nikia in the face from the ground, then grabbed and squeezed her left breast while hitting her face with short left hooks. Nikia found herself bucked off of Berta and as both women rose to their feet, Berta slammed an uppercut into Nikia’s stomach and yanked on her long black hair.
“Uggghhhh!! Ahhh!” cried Nikia as she couldn’t believe she had lost control of Berta after all of her training. Police rules say that officers are allowed an advantage when facing a suspect. Suspect has fists, the cop can use the baton; suspect has a knife, the cop can use the gun. But Nikia never used her baton with suspects who wanted to fight her with their fists. Nikia cracked Berta with a hard right cross and hurt her with a left hook, then grabbed her and rammed a devastating knee to her stomach, forcing a loud “GAAWWKKK!!!” from the taller girl as she doubled over and Nikia lifted her arms above her head, interlocked her fingers, and slammed a double axe handle blow to the back of Berta’s head, sending her down on her face and large breasts. Just as the two male officers and EMTs were arriving, having fought their way through the crowd, Nikia was sitting on Berta’s back with the taller girl’s arms and ankles handcuffed. Merrill was being put on a stretcher as a precaution and being put into the ambulance as Nikia spoke to her.
“You okay?” Nikia said
“I’ll be alright, officer,” Merrill said
“My name’s Nikia,” the cop said with a grin, “I don’t remember you being that easy to beat. You must’ve lost a step or something.”
“And you must’ve gained a flight of steps,” Merrill said, accepting the humorous jab, “You may have saved my life; though I’ve got to admit that you were the last person I envisioned coming to my rescue. Maybe Denzel Washington. I’m Merrill, by the way.”
Nikia extended her hand, and Merrill shook it. The two looked at each other, well aware of who the other was.
“So,” Nikia said, “How’d you manage to get in a fight with her?”
“I stepped on her foot by accident and she walked up to me and hit me,” Merrill replied. They both smiled.
“Yeah,” Nikia said, “you know fights break out for some of the dumbest reasons. But everybody meets their match eventually.”
At that moment, Merrill’s husband Ahmad came running up. Nikia’s eyes widened as Merrill and Ahmad kissed.
“Do you need to go to the hospital, honey?” Ahmad said
“No baby,” Merrill said blushing, “I just want to go home. This is the officer who helped me.”
“Thank you so much, ma’am,” Ahmad said. Nikia looked at him and smiled.
“No problem,” she said, “Just doing my job. You lovebirds go have fun. Oh and Merrill, take care of yourself. Nice to see you again.”
“Thanks, Nikia,” Merrill said as she stood up off of the bed.
As she and Ahmad walked to his car, Ahmad said, “You knew her?”
“Childhood friend of mine,” Merrill said with a smile, “Good to know she’s doing so well. Makes me feel safe knowing she’s out there.”
This wouldn’t be the last time Merrill and Nikia would cross paths. New Orleans is a pretty interesting city and it is a small world. But that’s another story for another time.
THE END
