The Last Black Unicorn - Tiffany Haddish Page 0,2

Here’s what I did:

I would just tell the teacher I was sick, or find a way to take the test later. Then I’d ask a friend, “What’d you say on your essay? Tell me everything.” They would tell me, I would memorize their words, and I’d just repeat them. My essay would be full of misspellings and grammar mistakes, but it would pretty much have whatever somebody else’s essay had.

Now, it seems crazy that I could not read or write. My memory was really good, so it didn’t make no sense. I just couldn’t read. You know what it was? I just didn’t believe I could. I thought I was stupid.

Before high school, I was told I was stupid every day. My stepdad used to tell me I was stupid all the time. My mama said it every day. My grandma sometimes. Definitely other kids at school. I believed I was stupid, so I guess I just didn’t think I could do it. I never tried.

I used to hate when people called me stupid. That would make me so angry. I would want to fight you for calling me stupid. But you know what’s so funny? As an adult, when I was working at the airline, one of my coworkers called me stupid. I said:

Tiffany: “You call me stupid one more damn time, we’re gonna have a straight-up fight in here.”

Coworker: “You do realize I’m trying to tell you that you’re funny. I think you’re funny. That’s why I’m saying that. Like, you stupid funny.”

Tiffany: “Oh, shit. My bad. I won’t fight you over no compliment.”

I started thinking, maybe all these years people been trying to tell me I was funny. Here I’m thinking they were trying to say I’m dumb, ’cause I felt dumb.

But back to being illiterate and trying to date Audie:

Audie ended up outing my lack of reading and writing, but not on purpose. Audie was in drama class, so I got into drama class. My thinking was that Audie was the only black dude in drama, and if I joined, I would be the only black girl in drama. I thought to myself, I bet we going to be kissing. We’re going to have to be husband and wife or something. They’re going to have to put us together. This school racist. They’re going to have to put us together.

But no. These motherfuckers had to be all liberal and integrated and shit. Audie got to have a Hispanic wife in the play. But I’m going to have to be a single mom?

Tiffany: “Why do I still got to be a statistic? This is not fair. I want to kiss Audie.”

Teacher: “What?”

And the shitty part was that Audie was cool with it. Man, I sent him so many Snickers, and he never gave me any sugar.

It was the drama teacher who figured out I couldn’t read. It was the end of my ninth-grade year. She asked me to stay after class, and by this time, she knew my hustle. She trapped me.

Miss Gree: “Tiffany, I want you to try this part. It’s a role opposite Audie.”

Tiffany: “Yeah, girl, I’m in!”

Miss Gree: “Great, I thought you might like it. Here, read this page, let’s see how you do.”

Tiffany: “Okay, Miss Gree, lemme take the script home and work on it, and I’ll do it for you tomorrow.”

Miss Gree: “I love your work ethic, Tiffany. But no. I’m going to need you to read this right now.”

Tiffany: “Uh . . . I’m not feeling well though, for real.”

Miss Gree: “You seemed very healthy thirty seconds ago. This must be a rapid virus.”

Tiffany: “Oh yeah, it could be Ebola. I better get to the nurse before I infect you.”

Miss Gree: “Tiffany . . . can you read?”

Tiffany: “I can read!”

Miss Gree: “Then just read this paragraph before you go see the nurse. Read this and you have the part.”

Tiffany: “You so pretty, Miss Gree. Did you change your hair?”

She was like no, no, no, no, no. She caught me.

But she was so cool about it. She didn’t tell anyone. She got me out of nutrition class, and had me come in every day and learn to read with her. She took me from first-grade level to ninth-grade level in like, a month. She just sat with me and showed me, and it was no problem.

Once I could read, man, it was like I had a superpower! I wasn’t stupid! All them words made sense!

She had me get into competitive monologue.