Page 2 of The Aries Alliance (BLP Signs of Love #14)

My late grandmother made sure of that. Only in my thirties did I recall how her behind the scenes encouragement kept me going.

Because she pushed me to believe that I had something to contribute to the world, I spoke up in a sea of noise, earning tenure and supervising twenty emerging scholars with boldness and clarity.

Even now, I heard Grandma’s withered voice in my head, telling me to press on in the face of adversity. If I didn’t speak up about how those under my care were mistreated, who would?

I took a final big breath and pointed to my computer.

“If they take me down, you know my passwords. Tell everybody what really happened. Pull their shady asses to hell, then resurrect them and take them down again.” I steeled my voice, pissed off as I thought about how so many people at my university shunned and gaslighted me.

I scanned the body of the email again. I’d procrastinated enough. This report was my judge and jury. The findings would either validate my humanity or erase me, revealing whether my organization’s actions lined up with their words. I needed today to be my day of reckoning.

“The file is three hundred and twenty-five pages long.” I placed my hand over my chest and held my breath, assuming that was a good sign.

My mind raced, hoping the fifteen-megabyte file supported my claim.

When the file opened, I scrolled through the pages quickly.

Although names were redacted, I recognized some of the incidents.

I wasn’t the only employee aware of the wrongs that happened at my institution.

Unfortunately, I was the only person who used the reporting system to call people in the system out.

I searched for a page of conclusions or a summary of the final decision.

I cleared my throat and pointed to the text I wanted to read out loud.

“Here it is. Dr. Scarlett Kane has done an excellent job supporting the scholars under her supervision. Interviewers confirm that several research labs were toxic and promoted a culture of fear and silence for the early-career scientists she has mentored. This is not conducive to their growth at Ember Falls University. Wow.” My heart leaped as I read those words.

“That’s good, right?” The hope in Val’s voice matched my rising optimism.

“I think so. They acknowledged that the lab culture was toxic. I never thought I’d see it in writing.” I bit the tip of the nail on my index finger and paused, silently reading and rereading the next words before pointing at the screen.

“Hold up. It also says, ‘Although leaders did not promote the ideal environment and did not respond in a timely manner to Dr. Kane’s complaints about the culture . . . no university rules were violated.’ For the claims of racial and gender harassment and discrimination, they are saying insufficient evidence. ”

Hot tears stung the back of my eyes. Before they could fall onto my cheeks, I held my fingers in the inner corners of my eyelids. I’d gone through too much already. EFU didn’t deserve my tears too.

Val reached for my arm and squeezed it.

“What does that mean?” Her lowered voice was ominous.

I remained silent for several seconds, not wanting to say the truth out loud. After taking a big breath, I spoke in a steady voice.

“It means that although I sought help for my supervisees, none of it matters. No one will be held accountable for EFU’s toxicity. Everything will go on, business as usual. That’s the verdict.”

A tear that had been hanging on for dear life finally fell from my eye, opening a floodgate of tears I couldn’t stop. Val reached into her purse and pulled out a small pack of tissues. I grabbed a couple of them and dabbed my eyes until I could see my computer screen again.

“I reached out to so many people—the Black male diversity directors and my Black women colleagues who have been at the university for years. The so-called white male allies. The white women feminists. Human resources consultants who were supposedly hired to support humans. None of that mattered.” I clutched the tissues, balling them up and waving them from side to side as a feeling of deep hurt cut through me.

“That sucks, girl. I’m so sorry.”

I wiped the linty tissue across my eyes a final time and cleared my throat.

“It was the scholars’ words against the lab directors. And the scholars lost.”

“You should have sued them years ago when they started their mess. Then you would have been done with it.” Val clicked her tongue and rolled her neck like the ride-or-die friend she was.

“Who doesn’t listen to victims? These scholars don’t have the time, money, or energy to go through years of legal battles. They want, no, make that need, justice so they can move on with their lives.”

“How many times have you told me EFU cares more about protecting its brand than the people behind the brand? Did you really think they were going to do right?”

The bitterness in Val’s voice fueled me. She was right. Although my gut told me not to trust the university’s ‘independent’ investigation, I believed that rules were real.

“It’s a moral issue. They had hundreds of pages of evidence handed to them on a silver platter. I didn’t expect them to put somebody in jail, but an acknowledgment of wrongdoing would be nice.”

“You care too much about the well-being of others.”

I wanted to push back but couldn’t deny how badly I hungered for liberation.

“I’m called to speak up for others.” I straightened my back and spoke the words with pride.

Val pointed at me.

“That’s what I’m talking about. You’re doing too much. You don’t own EFU, and they don’t deserve your energy. Everyone’s not making it to the promised land.”

What Val said wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before.

“I can use the gifts God has given me to show them what freedom looks like.”

“Who else has gotten demoted for calling the system out? I’ll wait.” Val crossed her arms and stared at me.

I remained silent because she was right again.

Bitterness pricked my heart as I recalled how quickly colleagues in my department filed complaints against me for not being collegial.

The only time anyone in our human resources or faculty affairs offices displayed empathy was when they thought I might resign from my position.

“You can’t be a one-woman justice league with a gigantic target on your back and survive,” Val continued.

I pulled my locs, skeptical that it was possible to form any upper-level collaborations that gave me the freedom to do my job and stay sane. Sure, I had the support of those I supervised, but without endorsements from senior leadership, my demise was inevitable.

“Everyone in power is in bed with the devil,” I spoke the words out loud, allowing the reality of my situation to hit my ears.

“What are you going to do about Aaliyah? Now the people at work know how she feels about them. You may have placed her in more danger by showing your hand.”

Val’s words hit me like a brick. When I filed a complaint, I knew the risks, and so did Aaliyah.

She was a brilliant junior researcher who was tortured almost daily in her position.

The last time she cried out to me, I presented her with the option to report her concerns formally.

We moved forward with that complaint, believing we were on the right side of history.

“If they retaliate, I have the documents to support my case.” I spoke logical words that I didn’t truly believe.

“It probably won’t be enough to stop the mess that’s happening.”

I sighed, disappointed that due process didn’t work, at least not for me.

“I could just throw a match in the middle of campus and be done with it,” I teased.

Val darted her eyes around and furrowed her brow.

“Girl, don’t play about arson. One thing those fools do well is pin mess on you. If there was even a hint of smoke near you, they’d file a report so fast your head would spin.”

I nodded.

“You’re not lying. They’re so conniving, I’d probably catch a case for those California wildfires too.”

For the first time since I read the report, I laughed. Like my romps with Lil’David, making light of serious situations released tension.

“Do you feel a little better?” Val’s soft voice soothed me despite my disappointment.

“Yes, but I’m still pissed at myself for holding onto hope that EFU might do right There aren’t enough warriors willing to speak out against wrong. I hate that I was built this way.”

My shoulders drooped as a familiar feeling tried to overtake me. I knew depression well, but I refused to wallow so deep in despair that I couldn’t get out of darkness. That was yet another reason I called Val.

“It’s who you are. You can’t change that, just like I can’t change how laid-back I am.”

“That’s why we’re friends. Fire and water. Opposites. We balance each other out. Just be there for me when the firing squad comes. I get tired of being the one up front, leading the charge.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way. What’s next, since arson isn’t an option?” Val spoke in the steady voice she always used to tame the beast that rose in me when injustice reared its ugly head.

I skimmed the report’s twenty-five interviews and at least fifty emails in the document, looking for action items. My eyes landed on the name of my point of contact for follow-up. I banged my fist on the round table, then grimaced as throbbing pain surged through my hand.

“Oh, hell no. I have to contact that human resources puppet, Warrick Redmond. He’s a damn sellout, with his bowtie-wearing Steve Urkel ass.”

Val pumped her hands like brakes before her eyes lit up.

“Hold up. You talking about that sun-kissed brother at the EFU family and friends barbecue, policing folks about taking only one plate home like he owned the Pigs’ Trough restaurant? A man that fine can’t be all bad,” she added quickly.

I hated when women got caught up with pretty teeth, but that was my girl.