I stared straight into the camera, enunciating every word: "Yeah. I think it's filthy. You all love it so much? Strip down and wear it yourselves."
Crack!
A slap sent my head snapping to the side.
Uncle Albert Dickerson shouldered through the crowd, eyes blazing. "I'm going to teach you a lesson today, you ungrateful little—"
Mom threw herself at him, clinging to his arm. "She's your niece! Your own blood!"
"How did my sister give birth to something like you?!"
Albert jabbed a finger in my face. "When you were born, your grandmother took one look—saw you weren't a boy—and wanted to drown you in a chamber pot right then and there! Middle of winter, your mother ran out barefoot, knelt in the snow, begged her on her hands and knees!"
The comments shifted instantly:
[Oh my god... what a mother.]
[She raised her daughter under that kind of pressure.]
[She really is the most selfless mother!]
I swallowed the familiar taste of iron.
Mom's voice came out small: "Once you have a child, you're responsible for them..."
She crouched down again to pick up the scattered coins, wiping each one before holding them out to me.