to be able to live together in peace and harmony. We want to be able to choose—”
“Stop this, Isa! You’re being ridiculous. Listen to you. Men, it’s time to take control of the women in your families.” He looks back at his wife. “I don’t want to lock you away…or…or…put you in your place, but I will. Since we’re dishing out lashes today, I might put you in the line too. Do you want that kind of pain?”
“You hurt me every day,” Isa says.
“That’s a little melodramatic!” Tarek snorts. “Does this have to do with the conversation you heard the other day?”
“The fact that you want old men to be able to mate with young girls turned my stomach, I’ll admit as much.” She nods.
Collective gasps go through the crowd. I note with interest that some of the men look upset at this prospect.
“Especially since we have a young daughter. I can say with certainty that learning of your plans added fuel to the fire.” Isa nods. “It isn’t just that. It’s the years of having to stay silent. We’re done being treated the way that we are. You hit the nail on the head earlier when you told Raven that she has no will of her own. That’s wrong!”
“You’re women. That’s how it is.” Tarek sounds bewildered. “You need direction. Two people can’t lead. There can only be one leader. It’s how things have been for hundreds of years.”
“What happened to two people being in a partnership? Two people making decisions together?” Isa sounds exasperated.
“That doesn’t work,” Tarek snorts again.
“What doesn’t work is having you as our leader.” The rest of the women go wild. They shout and clap. “We want you out. It is time to vote someone new in. All of us must get a vote. Every single person here. It’s not just the men who want a say in the matter. Who deserve a say.”
Tarek chokes out a laugh. It isn’t as confident as before. “My men and I will stand together and fight you, then. It will be a bloodbath.”
Isa stands taller and pulls her shoulders back. “Your response is not unexpected. It is still disappointing. I’m hoping the rest of the men in our tribe will feel differently. Tell me, are you willing to kill your wife…your mother? Are you willing to fight your daughters? What about your sisters? Are you willing to kill family members? Friends? Because that’s what will need to happen. We will not stand down.” She shakes her head.
“Again, so dramatic.”
“You just said that it would be a bloodbath. This is very serious. I wouldn’t dare exaggerate anything after a statement like that.”
“Go back to your homes!” Tarek shouts. “Do it now, before it’s too late. I would hate to see you hurt or locked up.”
It’s Isa’s turn to laugh. “You do not have enough cells to hold all of us.”
“Take control of your wives!” Tarek yells.
No one moves. No one does anything.
“I swear to god, Isa.” Tarek raises a hand. I cringe inwardly. He steps forward. I can see he’s going to strike his wife.
Isa doesn’t cower. Or flinch.
Someone grabs Tarek’s arm. “No, Father,” the young man says. “I can’t allow you to harm my mother. I agree; this has gone on long enough.”
Tarek snorts. “It’s because I refuse to allow you to mate that girl. She’s no good for you, son.” He looks desperate.
“I won’t harm my wife,” a voice echoes from the crowd.
“Me neither,” someone else says.
“I have daughters!” someone else shouts.
“I want to choose my own mate,” yet another person says. This time it’s a woman.
“Me too,” a man growls.
“Stop!” Tarek yells. “That’s not the natural way!” he shouts louder.
“Rather be quiet, Father.” I think his son has noticed the stares of hatred. The utterances throughout the crowd, which is drawing closer.
Understandably, there are those in agreement with Tarek, but they soon realize that they’re outnumbered and shut their mouths. Tarek’s stance changes. His shoulders slump. His whole form becomes smaller. “Isa,” he whispers, “why are you doing this to me?”
“Always so selfish.” Isa looks sad. “This isn’t about you, Tarek.”
“Let’s go, Father.” Tarek allows himself to be led away.
The guy on my right lets me go somewhere through all of this. I note that Lance is still gripping me tightly. I try to pull free. “Let go!” I growl, when his hands don’t budge.
“This isn’t right,” Lance mutters. “You’re a warm hole and a cooked supper at night. You shouldn’t be able to vote.” He