Happy Thanksgiving from the members of the Book Woman Club! They won't be meeting Saturday because of the Holiday. (Spending time with their families....all except Erica. She is...well, you'll have to wait for her next blog entry!) The Book Woman Club will meet again, next week!
In the meantime, have a wonderful holiday! Remember...calories don't count on holidays. Count all your blessings and then count them again. Thank God for those blessings. No matter how hard life hits you, someone else is going thorugh more. Enjoy family and friends. We are not guarenteed another day on this planet, so love those around you and love yourself.
Isn't Life an Adventure! Vanessa
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
"Alsha"
Dear Readers: "Alsha' is a character that joined the club in 2007. There are three Book Woman Club book marks that with stories about Alsha that were bought between 2007 and 2008. If you own a Book Woman Club book mark with a fragment of her story, now you can fill in the blanks. Here's where her story begins, and time will tell where it ends! Enjoy!
The Book Woman Club was beginning their review of The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison. Miss Adella was hosting the meeting and Alsha shifted her body, uncomfortable, sitting on a hard dinning room chair in the circle of woman. The seat was made of hard wood and badly needed a cushion. She looked around at the older women in the room, all of them seated comfortably on sofa's and stuffed chairs in Miss Adella's living room. Alsha had arrived late and did not get her pick of seating. She sat in the last available chair, next to her friend Nia. Her arrival time probably wouldn't have changed her comfort. Most of the younger women in the book club were seated on chairs as unbending as Alsha's. Besides, Alsha knew that she would have willingly given up padded seating to an elder, without being asked. She remembered an old African proverb. Something about the duty of the Children was to take care of the Elders. And...some of these older women still had the talent to intimidate you with the cut of an eye! These elders practiced "the look", an important tool of rule used by the "old school". One did not dare challenge "the look"! It shamed you into compliance and ordered your behavior with fear. Alsha shifted again, first catching the eye of Nia and then Khadi-jah. They nodded to one-another, Khadija rolling her eyes and Nia winking. They passed silent sympathy, each recognizing the discomfort of the other and acknowledged, with resignation, that their behinds would ache for a week!
Alsha was late because she had been in heavy debate with herself. She wasn't going to come to this Book Woman Club meeting. In fact, Alsha had been debating on skipping several meetings, ever since the club had decided to review The Bluest Eye. She loved Toni Morrison's writing, and had read most of her novels. She had cried through Beloved and Song of Solomon. She had stayed up all night to read Sula, her favorite of Morrison's books, in one sitting. She had found Tar Baby more difficult to get through, reading the opening chapter twice. She had read Love and Jazz. Paradise and A Mercy. She had even read two of Toni Morrison's non-fiction works; Playing in the Dark and Race-ing Justice. But Alsha had avoided reading
The Bluest Eye. Over the years, Alsha had picked the book up off the shelf at Barnes and Noble several times. Had read the jacket notes and the back page reviews. Had fingered the paperback edition and had measured the weight of the hardback edition in her hands. And then Alsha had put the The Bluest Eye back on the stores shelf. She just couldn't bring herself to buy it; to read it. She couldn't bring herself to turn the pages of this book about a little girl who wished for blue eyes. It was just too painful.
Lorrie was opening the review of The Bluest Eye after, as was the privilege of the member hosting the meeting, Miss Adella read aloud from a passage in the book. Lorrie had a Doctorate in Literature and was the only published member of the Book Woman Club. The members of The Book Woman Club enjoyed Lorrie's expertise and counted on her to get the discussion going. "In the novel, Pecola wanting blue eyes is a commentary on the notion that the white social beauty standard, having blue eyes, makes you beautiful and that beauty makes you privilege to happiness. Pecola is described as ugly. Her family is ugly. Where they live is ugly. Her world is ugly. If she has blue eyes Pecola believes that she will be seen by others as beautiful. If she has blue eyes, Pecola will be able to see the world as beautiful." Rose-ann continued tugging at the theme of the inside-outside point of view from Pecola's blue eyes. "The "eye" is an important symbol in this novel. The eye is symbolic for Pecola's perspective on life. Her "point of view". Eyes can symbolize enlightenment or blindness. The truth or a distortion of the truth. This is the reality of the un-reality of Pecola's eyes. When Pecola believes that her eyes are blue, bluer than the bluest eyes, she is insane. Pecola's insanity reflects the insanity of America's white standard of beauty and how it is so destructive to our black children." Bessie Davis Hudson answering comment faded into the background of Alsha's troubled thoughts.
Alsha's shifted again in the hard chair as her discomfort grew. The discomfort of her body and the discomfort of her thoughts began to overwhelm her. Her eyes began to blink, faster and faster, as she fought back tears. How could Pecola every think that blue eyes could ever bring her happiness? Alsha focused on the back of her ebony black hands. They floated in the water of her tears, her skin swimming as she held her hands still. Nia, who was sitting next to her, covered Alsha's hand with her blue-black ones. Alsha looked up, her face a mirror of pain as she tried to focus on Nia's dark brown eyes with her royal blue ones.
The Book Woman Club was beginning their review of The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison. Miss Adella was hosting the meeting and Alsha shifted her body, uncomfortable, sitting on a hard dinning room chair in the circle of woman. The seat was made of hard wood and badly needed a cushion. She looked around at the older women in the room, all of them seated comfortably on sofa's and stuffed chairs in Miss Adella's living room. Alsha had arrived late and did not get her pick of seating. She sat in the last available chair, next to her friend Nia. Her arrival time probably wouldn't have changed her comfort. Most of the younger women in the book club were seated on chairs as unbending as Alsha's. Besides, Alsha knew that she would have willingly given up padded seating to an elder, without being asked. She remembered an old African proverb. Something about the duty of the Children was to take care of the Elders. And...some of these older women still had the talent to intimidate you with the cut of an eye! These elders practiced "the look", an important tool of rule used by the "old school". One did not dare challenge "the look"! It shamed you into compliance and ordered your behavior with fear. Alsha shifted again, first catching the eye of Nia and then Khadi-jah. They nodded to one-another, Khadija rolling her eyes and Nia winking. They passed silent sympathy, each recognizing the discomfort of the other and acknowledged, with resignation, that their behinds would ache for a week!
Alsha was late because she had been in heavy debate with herself. She wasn't going to come to this Book Woman Club meeting. In fact, Alsha had been debating on skipping several meetings, ever since the club had decided to review The Bluest Eye. She loved Toni Morrison's writing, and had read most of her novels. She had cried through Beloved and Song of Solomon. She had stayed up all night to read Sula, her favorite of Morrison's books, in one sitting. She had found Tar Baby more difficult to get through, reading the opening chapter twice. She had read Love and Jazz. Paradise and A Mercy. She had even read two of Toni Morrison's non-fiction works; Playing in the Dark and Race-ing Justice. But Alsha had avoided reading
The Bluest Eye. Over the years, Alsha had picked the book up off the shelf at Barnes and Noble several times. Had read the jacket notes and the back page reviews. Had fingered the paperback edition and had measured the weight of the hardback edition in her hands. And then Alsha had put the The Bluest Eye back on the stores shelf. She just couldn't bring herself to buy it; to read it. She couldn't bring herself to turn the pages of this book about a little girl who wished for blue eyes. It was just too painful.
Lorrie was opening the review of The Bluest Eye after, as was the privilege of the member hosting the meeting, Miss Adella read aloud from a passage in the book. Lorrie had a Doctorate in Literature and was the only published member of the Book Woman Club. The members of The Book Woman Club enjoyed Lorrie's expertise and counted on her to get the discussion going. "In the novel, Pecola wanting blue eyes is a commentary on the notion that the white social beauty standard, having blue eyes, makes you beautiful and that beauty makes you privilege to happiness. Pecola is described as ugly. Her family is ugly. Where they live is ugly. Her world is ugly. If she has blue eyes Pecola believes that she will be seen by others as beautiful. If she has blue eyes, Pecola will be able to see the world as beautiful." Rose-ann continued tugging at the theme of the inside-outside point of view from Pecola's blue eyes. "The "eye" is an important symbol in this novel. The eye is symbolic for Pecola's perspective on life. Her "point of view". Eyes can symbolize enlightenment or blindness. The truth or a distortion of the truth. This is the reality of the un-reality of Pecola's eyes. When Pecola believes that her eyes are blue, bluer than the bluest eyes, she is insane. Pecola's insanity reflects the insanity of America's white standard of beauty and how it is so destructive to our black children." Bessie Davis Hudson answering comment faded into the background of Alsha's troubled thoughts.
Alsha's shifted again in the hard chair as her discomfort grew. The discomfort of her body and the discomfort of her thoughts began to overwhelm her. Her eyes began to blink, faster and faster, as she fought back tears. How could Pecola every think that blue eyes could ever bring her happiness? Alsha focused on the back of her ebony black hands. They floated in the water of her tears, her skin swimming as she held her hands still. Nia, who was sitting next to her, covered Alsha's hand with her blue-black ones. Alsha looked up, her face a mirror of pain as she tried to focus on Nia's dark brown eyes with her royal blue ones.
Monday, November 14, 2011
"Carmen"
Carmen circled the block, driving up James Street for the fifth time, and then headed back down Shotwell Park to Bessie Davis Hudson's house. She pulled into Bessie's driveway and left her red vintage Mustang running. Bessie's screen door was open, and Carmen knocked. Bessie came to the door, her face deep lined with concern. Carmen pushed the screen when Bessie unlocked it and followed behind her. Carmen began to pass back and forth through Bessie's living room "Did you find her, dear?" "No, Miss Bessie, I didn't find her. I drove all the way down James Street and through downtown. I've been up and down Tealle Ave. a bunch of times. I even went to the Shop City Mall and checked every store and restaurant, including the McDonalds. None of the clerks I talked to remember seeing Erica." "I'm sorry to bother you, dear, but I know you're her best friend and I thought you might know where she was." Bessie sat down in her comfy chair and took her shoes off. As she reached down to rub her swollen ankles, Bessie watched Carmen's feet as they began to mat a path through her worn living room carpet. She really needed to scrap some money together to replace it. Maybe it was time to redecorate, Bessie thought, as she surveyed the room. Most of the furnishings were over 50 years old, some from Bessie's mother's and grandmother's homes! She had brought all the furniture up with her from Darlington, South Carolina, when she moved to Syracuse. Bessie's eyes caught up with Carmen's as Carmen turned back towards Bessie on her path across the carpet.
"She was looking for you, my dear, at the Book Woman Club Meeting. She told us she was supposed to get a ride from you. She waited for about fifteen minutes to see if you might stop by and pick her up even though you didn't make it to the meeting and then she took off walking." Bessie sat up from her feet and placed her hand over her heart. "I didn't see any reason to say something to her about walking! It was a beautiful, sunny day! Lot's of people out and about!" Bessie placed her other hand over the hand that rested on her heart. "This neighborhood is usually so safe!" Carmen stopped her pacing and knelt in front of Bessie. "Now, Ms. Bessie! Everything is going to be alright! We're going to find Erica. This is not your fault! You had no reason to think that she wouldn't be safe walking home. Erica is a grown woman, Ms. Bessie." "I know she's grown, dear, but being grown doesn't mean we don't need a little mothering! It's just that she seems to be such a fragile little thing. All those children...and that husband of hers..." Bessie's tongue clucked at the air. "I've called all the hospitals and they say they don't have a record of an Erica Gonzales being admitted to any of them. I am really worried, dear. We need to find her before that husband finds her!" "If this is anyone's fault, it's mine. I should have been at the meeting! I should have been here to take her home!" Carmen stood up, turning her back to Bessie and looked out the living room window at the fading day's light. "Tell me, what exactly did Pedro say to you?"
Bessie paused, the frown on her face reflecting her distasteful interaction with Erica's husband. "Well, he drove up at about 5:00 and sat in the driveway, blowing his horn! Just kept blowing it, over and over again like some rude teenager picking up a date he has no respect for! I finally went to the door, when I realized that the horn was blowing from my driveway! Neighbors were looking out the windows and the gentleman next door, Mr. Thompson, came out of his house and asked me if I was alright! Such a nice man, mows my lawn for me without charging any thing, and he takes my trash cans down to the street every Monday night without me asking the favor! I told him that I was alright and I walked over to that van. It was just full of children! Erica's husband jumped out of the van demanded that I have Carmen come out of the house and get in the car! I told him that she had long left and he demanded to know the time. I told him that she left walking sometime after 3:00 and he snapped that she was supposed to be home at 3:30. He demanded that I tell him where she went! I told him that as far as I knew, she was heading home. Then he took a step towards me, shook his fist at me and yelled that if she were at home, he wouldn't be talking to some old Biddie about where his wife was! He ordered me to tell her that she better, please excuse the language, dear, get her a-s-s home before he found her! He jumped in the car, screamed for the kids to shut-up, slammed the car into drive and backed out the driveway right over my bed of marigolds! I was so mad that I was shaking! By then Mr. Thompson had walked over to stand next to me, afraid that man was going to attack me, and he helped me into the house!" "He didn't say where he was going next to look for her?" Carmen asked, turning around, worry lines etched around her corners of her mouth. "I didn't get a chance to ask! I'm really worried about Erica, Carmen! I'm worried that her husband will find her." "Me too, Bessie! Me too!" Carmen walked over to Bessie, kissed her on the cheek and murmured, "Don't worry. I'll find her. Or I'll find Pedro before he finds her." She walked out the door before Bessie could caution her to stay clear of Pedro. Bessie sat very still in the now night-shadowed living room. Then she stood up on her swollen ankles, walked over to the end table next to her couch, picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1.
"She was looking for you, my dear, at the Book Woman Club Meeting. She told us she was supposed to get a ride from you. She waited for about fifteen minutes to see if you might stop by and pick her up even though you didn't make it to the meeting and then she took off walking." Bessie sat up from her feet and placed her hand over her heart. "I didn't see any reason to say something to her about walking! It was a beautiful, sunny day! Lot's of people out and about!" Bessie placed her other hand over the hand that rested on her heart. "This neighborhood is usually so safe!" Carmen stopped her pacing and knelt in front of Bessie. "Now, Ms. Bessie! Everything is going to be alright! We're going to find Erica. This is not your fault! You had no reason to think that she wouldn't be safe walking home. Erica is a grown woman, Ms. Bessie." "I know she's grown, dear, but being grown doesn't mean we don't need a little mothering! It's just that she seems to be such a fragile little thing. All those children...and that husband of hers..." Bessie's tongue clucked at the air. "I've called all the hospitals and they say they don't have a record of an Erica Gonzales being admitted to any of them. I am really worried, dear. We need to find her before that husband finds her!" "If this is anyone's fault, it's mine. I should have been at the meeting! I should have been here to take her home!" Carmen stood up, turning her back to Bessie and looked out the living room window at the fading day's light. "Tell me, what exactly did Pedro say to you?"
Bessie paused, the frown on her face reflecting her distasteful interaction with Erica's husband. "Well, he drove up at about 5:00 and sat in the driveway, blowing his horn! Just kept blowing it, over and over again like some rude teenager picking up a date he has no respect for! I finally went to the door, when I realized that the horn was blowing from my driveway! Neighbors were looking out the windows and the gentleman next door, Mr. Thompson, came out of his house and asked me if I was alright! Such a nice man, mows my lawn for me without charging any thing, and he takes my trash cans down to the street every Monday night without me asking the favor! I told him that I was alright and I walked over to that van. It was just full of children! Erica's husband jumped out of the van demanded that I have Carmen come out of the house and get in the car! I told him that she had long left and he demanded to know the time. I told him that she left walking sometime after 3:00 and he snapped that she was supposed to be home at 3:30. He demanded that I tell him where she went! I told him that as far as I knew, she was heading home. Then he took a step towards me, shook his fist at me and yelled that if she were at home, he wouldn't be talking to some old Biddie about where his wife was! He ordered me to tell her that she better, please excuse the language, dear, get her a-s-s home before he found her! He jumped in the car, screamed for the kids to shut-up, slammed the car into drive and backed out the driveway right over my bed of marigolds! I was so mad that I was shaking! By then Mr. Thompson had walked over to stand next to me, afraid that man was going to attack me, and he helped me into the house!" "He didn't say where he was going next to look for her?" Carmen asked, turning around, worry lines etched around her corners of her mouth. "I didn't get a chance to ask! I'm really worried about Erica, Carmen! I'm worried that her husband will find her." "Me too, Bessie! Me too!" Carmen walked over to Bessie, kissed her on the cheek and murmured, "Don't worry. I'll find her. Or I'll find Pedro before he finds her." She walked out the door before Bessie could caution her to stay clear of Pedro. Bessie sat very still in the now night-shadowed living room. Then she stood up on her swollen ankles, walked over to the end table next to her couch, picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1.
Friday, November 11, 2011
"Dee-Dee"
Dee-Dee cupped her hands around her cup of hot coffee. She stared at its caramel depths, its color reminding her of the skin that she and her husband Christopher dreamed their son or daughter would have. If they ever were blessed with children, they dreamed of how it would be a combination of both of them...a little African-American DNA and a little European-American DNA. Their children would be a genetic mixing of the two of them; Dee-Dee's full nose, Christopher's green eyes, Dee-Dee's lush lips, Christoper's square chin. A human equality puzzle that fit together perfectly...a new race, who by the power of its presence, would end all the racism in America. She and Christoper dreamed that one day in America, everyone would be one color. One day. Dee-Dee sighed as she heard her father's voice mocking her, bouncing around inside of her head. "You never know what fruit will fall from the DNA tree!" The pragmatic part of Dee-Dee's brain knew that in the unpredictable world of DNA, their child could come out looking like Alsha, a young woman in the Book Woman Club. She had deliciously-dark ebony black skin, a button nose, thin lips and blue eyes! Her mother and father both had light brown skin. DNA had it's own agenda! Still, Dee-Dee could dream a world where the far edges of each race faded away and where, then, there would be no more need for divisive racial definitions.
"Look, Georgia...I'm sorry! I should have prepared you for the Book Woman Club! I should have told you that you were going to be the only white woman there and that there would be opposition to you attendance! It wasn't fair of me to invite you to the meeting and use you like a pawn in my private agenda to shake those women up! I was wrong, and I really am sorry!." "I don't understand, Dee-Dee! What did you think I would do if you had told me I was going to be the only white person there?" "You wouldn't have come!" "Your wrong, I would have come!" Dee-Dee cocked her head to one side, raised an eyebrow and stared at Georgia. "Well...maybe not! But I would have at least asked you if the other women would be open to me coming or if they would have been offended." Georgia thought for a minute and then said, "I would probably have come if you had been able to say that they wouldn't have minded me being there!" Georgia took a long sip of her coffee and set the cup down. "You knew my being there was going to be a problem!" "I said I was sorry, Georgia!" Dee-Dee took her friends hand. "Please, forgive me!" Georgia wrapped her hands around Dee-Dee's hand. "Five Starbucks visits and you pay!" "Four", Dee-Dee counter offered. "Five! There will be no negotiating." Georgia released Dee-Dee's hand and held up five fingers. Dee-Dee smiled and said, "O.k....Five!" They both went back to their cups of coffee and pulled at the ragged edges of this society woven out of so many varied textured yarns and sewn together with so many different colored threads; the cloth thread bare and stretched out of shape in the tug of was of competing components. Dee-Dee looked at her chocolate brown hand wrapped around her coffee cup and then glanced over at Georgia's pale pink hand holding her cup. And idea began to take hold in Dee-Dee's head and it began to drip from her mouth.
"You know, Georgia...we can be sitting in the same room, at the same time, at the same table, eating the same food, right next to each other, and our experience as an African-Americans and as a European-American will be very different." "So, I'm a "European-American."!" Georgia grinned ear to ear. They had been through this race title-exchange over and over again. "I thought I was human." "Well, that's what you say you are!" Dee-Dee stuck her tongue out at Georgia and laughed. Georgia crossed her eyes and said in a mechanical voice, "I am from planet Zercon and I come in peace!" They laughed loudly together, causing heads in the coffee shop to turn. Mouths covered, their laughter quieted to giggles. "I know, I know!" Georgia laughed softly, "Black and White are just "colors". It is our heritage that defines us! The world according to Dee-Dee!" "Serious, Georgia. Be serious with me, just for a few minutes. I'd like to play this game with you, for a few weeks. Might give you some ideas for your writing and information for my Diversity Training Workshops." Outside of her work at the museum, Dee-Dee conducted Diversity Training Workshops for Non-Profits and Corporate Institutions. "O.K.", Georgia responded, curious. "What is this game that you want to play?" "Let's play, "What was Different?" Dee-Dee's brown eyes met Georgia's blues. "The game's called "What was Different"? How's it played?" "We'll, I'm kinda making it up as we sit here." Georgia laughed. "O....K! How do we play this game that you are making up as we sit here?" Dee-Dee laughed and said, "Well...we go places together...like the mall, or a grocery store. Dinner. Here, places like this Starbucks, and if something happens to me that I feel is because of my color, I ask you, "What was Different?" You report on your experience, right then and there, and tell me the story of what is going at that time and place and if you think my experience is different from yours. Then I'll tell you my interpretation of the very same experience and we can compare notes." Georgia thought for a moment and slowly nodded her head. "O.K. This might be interesting. Only I get to initiate the same senerio if I thing that something is different in my experience that is not the same in your experience because I am white." "European-American"! Dee-Dee countered. "And I don't think there will be many times that you are treated differently because you are white!" "Oh, you mean like I wasn't treated "differently" at the Book Woman Club meeting?" Georgia jutted her jaw forward and hung her head to the side. "Huh? This can be our "Looking Glass" adventure!" Georgia folded her arms across her chest. "Looking glass adventure? What are you talking about?" Dee-Dee frowned in confusion. Georgia threw both hands up in the air. "You know, Alice stepping through the looking glass! Each of us stepping through the invisible boundary that separates our worlds in the racial divide of America. I know you're looking at this game as some eye opening life exercise for me, but I'm throwing that expectation right back at 'cha! I think you are going to be just as surprised as I am by the results this game of yours. You get a front row view of "White-World", I mean, "Euro-World" just like I'm gonna get an inside look at "African-American World". Dee-Dee rolled her eyes. "Believe me, I know more about "Euro-World" than you'll ever know about my world. We are inundated with European culture from the day that we are born. Television commercials and ads about your hair, your sun tan lotion, your families, your movies about the inner-sanctums of Wall Street where we will never gain full entry ..."Euro-World" and it's values, privileges and entitlements served up on a silver platter just beyond our reach." "Soft Sheen Hair Relaxer commercials, Cover girl's Queen Latifa, and the Cosby's - a middle class family of color! And are you going to tell me that there are no African-American stock brokers?" Georgia countered. Dee-Dee leaned forward, stabbing an index finger in the air like a sword. "Commercials recruiting us to meet the European model of beauty, and the Cosby Show has been in re-runs, how long? All I see are sitcoms where we're back to the stereotype of the minstrel player - the clown with little depth and masked humanity. That's why I don't watch T.V. anymore! And I don't see many brothers having access to the kind of power that European men have in those Fortune Five Hundred Companies controlling the wealth of America! You have a lot to learn in this game we are about to play, Georgia! You want to act like the world is all equal now and that everyone has the same access to power and opportunity, to the "white-boy network"! " Dee-Dee's index and middle fingers from both hands made quote signs in the air between her and Georgia. "Really, so that's what I think, huh - Dee-Dee? And who's producing today's television minstrel players?" Dee-Dee bristled. "I'm not naming names, but he sure isn't white! Maybe you need to take a closer look at yourself and your own assessment of some issues, Dee! Access to power and opportunity? I'm single, my dad's dead and I have no brothers or uncles! I'm not the one married to the "white-boy network"!" Georgia's index fingers slashed the air and mirrored Dee-Dee's fading air graffiti.
"Look, Georgia...I'm sorry! I should have prepared you for the Book Woman Club! I should have told you that you were going to be the only white woman there and that there would be opposition to you attendance! It wasn't fair of me to invite you to the meeting and use you like a pawn in my private agenda to shake those women up! I was wrong, and I really am sorry!." "I don't understand, Dee-Dee! What did you think I would do if you had told me I was going to be the only white person there?" "You wouldn't have come!" "Your wrong, I would have come!" Dee-Dee cocked her head to one side, raised an eyebrow and stared at Georgia. "Well...maybe not! But I would have at least asked you if the other women would be open to me coming or if they would have been offended." Georgia thought for a minute and then said, "I would probably have come if you had been able to say that they wouldn't have minded me being there!" Georgia took a long sip of her coffee and set the cup down. "You knew my being there was going to be a problem!" "I said I was sorry, Georgia!" Dee-Dee took her friends hand. "Please, forgive me!" Georgia wrapped her hands around Dee-Dee's hand. "Five Starbucks visits and you pay!" "Four", Dee-Dee counter offered. "Five! There will be no negotiating." Georgia released Dee-Dee's hand and held up five fingers. Dee-Dee smiled and said, "O.k....Five!" They both went back to their cups of coffee and pulled at the ragged edges of this society woven out of so many varied textured yarns and sewn together with so many different colored threads; the cloth thread bare and stretched out of shape in the tug of was of competing components. Dee-Dee looked at her chocolate brown hand wrapped around her coffee cup and then glanced over at Georgia's pale pink hand holding her cup. And idea began to take hold in Dee-Dee's head and it began to drip from her mouth.
"You know, Georgia...we can be sitting in the same room, at the same time, at the same table, eating the same food, right next to each other, and our experience as an African-Americans and as a European-American will be very different." "So, I'm a "European-American."!" Georgia grinned ear to ear. They had been through this race title-exchange over and over again. "I thought I was human." "Well, that's what you say you are!" Dee-Dee stuck her tongue out at Georgia and laughed. Georgia crossed her eyes and said in a mechanical voice, "I am from planet Zercon and I come in peace!" They laughed loudly together, causing heads in the coffee shop to turn. Mouths covered, their laughter quieted to giggles. "I know, I know!" Georgia laughed softly, "Black and White are just "colors". It is our heritage that defines us! The world according to Dee-Dee!" "Serious, Georgia. Be serious with me, just for a few minutes. I'd like to play this game with you, for a few weeks. Might give you some ideas for your writing and information for my Diversity Training Workshops." Outside of her work at the museum, Dee-Dee conducted Diversity Training Workshops for Non-Profits and Corporate Institutions. "O.K.", Georgia responded, curious. "What is this game that you want to play?" "Let's play, "What was Different?" Dee-Dee's brown eyes met Georgia's blues. "The game's called "What was Different"? How's it played?" "We'll, I'm kinda making it up as we sit here." Georgia laughed. "O....K! How do we play this game that you are making up as we sit here?" Dee-Dee laughed and said, "Well...we go places together...like the mall, or a grocery store. Dinner. Here, places like this Starbucks, and if something happens to me that I feel is because of my color, I ask you, "What was Different?" You report on your experience, right then and there, and tell me the story of what is going at that time and place and if you think my experience is different from yours. Then I'll tell you my interpretation of the very same experience and we can compare notes." Georgia thought for a moment and slowly nodded her head. "O.K. This might be interesting. Only I get to initiate the same senerio if I thing that something is different in my experience that is not the same in your experience because I am white." "European-American"! Dee-Dee countered. "And I don't think there will be many times that you are treated differently because you are white!" "Oh, you mean like I wasn't treated "differently" at the Book Woman Club meeting?" Georgia jutted her jaw forward and hung her head to the side. "Huh? This can be our "Looking Glass" adventure!" Georgia folded her arms across her chest. "Looking glass adventure? What are you talking about?" Dee-Dee frowned in confusion. Georgia threw both hands up in the air. "You know, Alice stepping through the looking glass! Each of us stepping through the invisible boundary that separates our worlds in the racial divide of America. I know you're looking at this game as some eye opening life exercise for me, but I'm throwing that expectation right back at 'cha! I think you are going to be just as surprised as I am by the results this game of yours. You get a front row view of "White-World", I mean, "Euro-World" just like I'm gonna get an inside look at "African-American World". Dee-Dee rolled her eyes. "Believe me, I know more about "Euro-World" than you'll ever know about my world. We are inundated with European culture from the day that we are born. Television commercials and ads about your hair, your sun tan lotion, your families, your movies about the inner-sanctums of Wall Street where we will never gain full entry ..."Euro-World" and it's values, privileges and entitlements served up on a silver platter just beyond our reach." "Soft Sheen Hair Relaxer commercials, Cover girl's Queen Latifa, and the Cosby's - a middle class family of color! And are you going to tell me that there are no African-American stock brokers?" Georgia countered. Dee-Dee leaned forward, stabbing an index finger in the air like a sword. "Commercials recruiting us to meet the European model of beauty, and the Cosby Show has been in re-runs, how long? All I see are sitcoms where we're back to the stereotype of the minstrel player - the clown with little depth and masked humanity. That's why I don't watch T.V. anymore! And I don't see many brothers having access to the kind of power that European men have in those Fortune Five Hundred Companies controlling the wealth of America! You have a lot to learn in this game we are about to play, Georgia! You want to act like the world is all equal now and that everyone has the same access to power and opportunity, to the "white-boy network"! " Dee-Dee's index and middle fingers from both hands made quote signs in the air between her and Georgia. "Really, so that's what I think, huh - Dee-Dee? And who's producing today's television minstrel players?" Dee-Dee bristled. "I'm not naming names, but he sure isn't white! Maybe you need to take a closer look at yourself and your own assessment of some issues, Dee! Access to power and opportunity? I'm single, my dad's dead and I have no brothers or uncles! I'm not the one married to the "white-boy network"!" Georgia's index fingers slashed the air and mirrored Dee-Dee's fading air graffiti.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
"Karen"
Karen had driven back and forth, up and then back down the street three times. Rose-ann's car was parked in the driveway, still, but all of her windows were shut on this hot summer's day and all of the curtains were drawn. "She's in there...I know she's in there!" Karen was mad! She had been by Rose-ann's house three times in three days, this week, and every time Rose-ann's car had been in the driveway and every time Karen had knocked and knocked and knocked at the door, but Rose-ann had not answered. She had left notes and had called and left message after message. "I am going to get down to the bottom of this mystery...TODAY!", Karen pledged to herself as she turned her car around, headed back down the block and pulled her car in behind Rose-ann's vehicle in the driveway. She parked her car, grabbed her purse, and marched up to the flaming red door. Rose-ann had been promising to host a meeting of the Book Woman Club in her home for almost a year and every time, at the last minute, she would bow-out with some lame excuse or another. She would plead that her bathroom didn't work, or that the ongoing and never ending renovation of her home wasn't done, or that the contractors had turned off the electrical box for the weekend and that she was using candles! "Nonsense!" Karen thought. She lived around the corner from Rose-ann and she had never seen a contractor's van or workman's truck at Rose-ann's house. Something wasn't right here, and although she and Rose-ann had only known each other for less than a year, Karen felt strongly that someone needed to intervene and find out what was going on! Karen was that someone! "Rose-ann!" Karen yelled, her hands on her hips. "Rose-ann, I know you're in there! Rose-ann, open this door!" Karen pulled herself up on her tip toes, stretching to see into the small window in the door, her short full-figure body almost falling over, but like a weeble-wobble she rocked back and forth until she was corrected her balance. "Rose-ann!" A thick shade covered the door's small window and try as she might, Karen could not see into the house. Karen began pounding on the door as she shouted. "Rose-ann! You answer this door! I'm not leaving until you answer this door!" She pounded and pounded until her fingers vibrated in pain! One of Rose-ann's next door neighbors opened his door and yelled at Karen, "I don't think she's home!" "Oh, she's in there! Rose-ann!" Karen turned away from the neighbor and began kicking the door! The neighbor stepped out onto his porch, waving his fist and shouting. "Look! She's not home! Leave her a note! I got to go to work tonight and I can't sleep with all your racket!" Karen continued to shout at the door, ignoring the sleep deprived and now irate neighbor. "Rose-ann! I've been here three times this week and I've left numerous notes and messages! Now, you open this door and let me in!" "I'm calling the police!", the neighbor threatened. "Go ahead and call them! For all I know, she could be dead and decaying away in there. Call them! As a matter of fact, I'll call the police." The neighbor threw up his hands, and slamming his front door, went back inside. Karen stepped back from the red door. "Rose-ann! I'm gonna assume that your dead. I'm calling the police so they can take your dead body out of there before your cat eats you!" Karen reached into her purse and took out her cell phone. "You hear me, Rose-ann? I'm counting to three, and then I'm calling the Police! You hear me? One! I'm not kidding, I'm dialing 9! Two! I just dialed 1! Th..." Rose-ann's door inched open with a loud squeal! "For heaven's sake! What is wrong with you? What do you want?" Rose-ann's face was framed in the 1/2 inch space that she had created, between the door and the door jam, when she opened her door. "I've been knocking and shouting at this door for a good fifteen minutes! I want to know why you've been ignoring me!" "Really?", Rose-ann answered innocently. "I must have not heard you!" "Bull! You heard me! The dead folks in the cemetery across town heard me!" Rose-ann's sighed and she looked at Karen with weary eyes. "Karen...what is it that you want? I'm really busy and I can't talk to you right now! Why don't you go on home and I'll call you later." Rose-ann began to close her door, but Karen quickly twisted her foot sideways and wedged it in the small opening before Rose-ann could close the door all the way. "Ow! My foot's caught! Open this door, Rose-ann!" Rose-ann propped the door open enough to relieve the pressure on Karen's foot and said, "I told you I was busy! I got to go!" Karen kicked at the door with the front of her foot, catching Rose-ann off guard, and widening the opening by maybe a half an inch. In a flash, she turned her foot and then stomped it down flat in the door's opening. "Oh no you don't! You are going to talk to me! You've been avoiding me ever since that last meeting at my house when I asked you why you never - ever host the Book Woman Club at your house. I'm here to get the bottom of this, Rose-ann! What is going on with you? What's going on in this house?" "Nothing, Karen! Move your foot! I got food on the stove!" Rose-ann tried to push Karen's foot out of the doorway with her own foot, but Karen refused to budge. "The Book Woman Club women have known you for almost a year! You have been in just about every member's home, and not one of us have ever been in yours! You're always saying that you are renovating and then backing out of hosting the meeting at the last minute! None of us has seen a workman's truck or van or ladder on this property! Rose-ann, the women are starting to whisper about you...wander if you're growing pot in there or if you got a man chained up in your basement or something!" Karen smiled, trying to add some levity to the reason for her intrusiveness; well...to her nosiness. Rose-ann just stood there, staring at Karen. Karen tried again. "Look, I am your friend, Rose-ann! I know you don't know me that well, but I am your friend! I will help you...no matter what the problem is! Just tell me! I promise you, I won't tell anybody else! This, what ever it is, will be between you and me." Rose-ann looked down at her welcome mat as if studying the pattern for use in one of her amazing quilts. "Let me help you, Rose-ann. You're going to have to let someone in sometime. This world's too hard trying to do it all alone! Let me help you!" Rose-anne she looked up, her eyes filled with tears. "Rose-ann?" Karen reached out to comfort her, but Rose-ann stepped back, avoiding her touch and opening her door... wide. Karen looked in and gasped!
"Celeste"
Celeste took a deep breathe. The air in the hall was heavy, humid with her tears. She let the thick air out slowly, clearing her lungs. Her breathing filtered regret and sorrow, filtered out regret and memory. Celeste raised her hand from her well padded stomach and looked down into her open palm. The stain from the pressure of the door handle had receded, and she dried her eyes with the back of her hand, rubbing at the mask of gritty salt that had formed on her face. As she stepped away from the wall from where she had been leaning on, across the hall from Erica's hospital room, she tried to stand up straight. Celeste felt her body list to the left, a strong tower, but leaning with the weight of the past. She slowly shuffled towards Erica's door, her feet carrying the burden of heart, mind, memory, regret and body. Celeste lifted her hand and knocked.
Her knock was answered by a scream from one voice, and then an answering echo screamed from another! Startled, Celeste grabbed the knob and rushed into the room! "Is everything alright?" Her voice probed the far corners of the room; hunting danger, tracking fear. " Everything is alright! You just startled us!" When the door opened, Dr. Swanzy had jumped up and swung around to face the door. Her clip board was poised in her hand like an Amazon's shield, her pencil was held in her other hand like a spear, ready to battle whatever force was coming through the door. "Everything is alright!" And Erica, Erica had fallen back on her hospital bed. Her face was bloodlessly pale, and she had pulled the bed cloths to her chin, a sadly inadequate defense against even the smallest storm! "You scared me!", Erica whispered, her eyes swimming around in her head. She then abruptly pulled herself back into a sitting position. "I have to go home...now! Where are my clothes?", she demanded, her voice rising, frantic...hysterical! "I don't think that that is the best choice, Mrs. Gonzalez! responded Dr. Swanzy, her voice soft, yet firm. "If you won't call the police, I have no other choice, under the law, but to call the police myself." "If you call the police, he will kill me!", Erica shouted, her quivering eyes and body totally focused on Dr. Swanzy's words. "He - will - kill - me!" She screamed as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, steadying herself with her had on the bed's side-rail. "Please! Please! Don't call the police! I beg you! Don't call them!" Erica took an unsteady step towards Dr. Swanzy, one hand clawing through the air. Begging mercy...trying to stop what she knew was inevitable. Celeste quickly stepped between Erica and the doctor, grabbing her flailing hand in her own, lending support as Erica began to sway towards the floor. Dr. Swanzy grabbed her other arm and they attempted to put her back in the bed. "No, let me sit up! Let me sit in the chair! I have to get out of that bed! I have to get out of that bed!", Erica screamed! "Sh-h-h-h! Hush now, child. We will set you in the chair. Now calm down! Calm down." Dr. Swanzy made a nodded her head towards the chair, and she and Celeste gently lowered Erica into it. "If you call the police...Pedro will kill me. He will kill me!" Erica again pleaded. "I have no choice.", Dr. Swanzy quietly reiterated and gently patted Erica's shoulder. The doctor caught Celeste's eyes, nodded, and then left the room.
Erica sat in stunned silence! Purple, green and dark red bruises moaned from above the neckline of her sagging hospital gown and as they moaned, they caught Celeste's attention. A cry of ancient sorrow rose from the pit of Celeste's soul and she knelt down in front of Erica, her aging knees adding their distress to this pain-filled hospital room. Celeste placed both of her soft wrinkled hands across Erica's breastbone. "He will kill you and this baby, my dear, if you go back to him." Her hands radiated heat. Her hands radiated soft electrical sparks that short circuited Erica's panic and slowed her heart beat. It changed her breating. It changed the messages of the synaptic fireing in Erica's brain and soul. "How did you know about the baby?" Erica's voice was low, the laying on of Celeste's hands a magic potion. "I just know, child. I just know. You'd be surprised what I know." "I have no where to go. I have...I have eight other children at home...and I can't leave them." Erica's speech became slurred, Celeste's voice a tranquilizer, leading her...leading her...."You will take them with you, my dear." Celeste said, her hands lifting to rest on either side of Erica's face, the circle of calm unbroken by their shift. "You will take them with you." Celeste's eyes held Erica's, and Erica felt like she was looking deep into the universe. She felt vertigo, she felt turned upside down, she felt like she was spinning into a galaxy of infinite peace...of infinite possibility. In those eyes, there was escape and dreams and hope. "Where?" Erica faint whisper barely reached Celeste's ears. "Where?" Celeste answered "To my house. To home."
Her knock was answered by a scream from one voice, and then an answering echo screamed from another! Startled, Celeste grabbed the knob and rushed into the room! "Is everything alright?" Her voice probed the far corners of the room; hunting danger, tracking fear. " Everything is alright! You just startled us!" When the door opened, Dr. Swanzy had jumped up and swung around to face the door. Her clip board was poised in her hand like an Amazon's shield, her pencil was held in her other hand like a spear, ready to battle whatever force was coming through the door. "Everything is alright!" And Erica, Erica had fallen back on her hospital bed. Her face was bloodlessly pale, and she had pulled the bed cloths to her chin, a sadly inadequate defense against even the smallest storm! "You scared me!", Erica whispered, her eyes swimming around in her head. She then abruptly pulled herself back into a sitting position. "I have to go home...now! Where are my clothes?", she demanded, her voice rising, frantic...hysterical! "I don't think that that is the best choice, Mrs. Gonzalez! responded Dr. Swanzy, her voice soft, yet firm. "If you won't call the police, I have no other choice, under the law, but to call the police myself." "If you call the police, he will kill me!", Erica shouted, her quivering eyes and body totally focused on Dr. Swanzy's words. "He - will - kill - me!" She screamed as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, steadying herself with her had on the bed's side-rail. "Please! Please! Don't call the police! I beg you! Don't call them!" Erica took an unsteady step towards Dr. Swanzy, one hand clawing through the air. Begging mercy...trying to stop what she knew was inevitable. Celeste quickly stepped between Erica and the doctor, grabbing her flailing hand in her own, lending support as Erica began to sway towards the floor. Dr. Swanzy grabbed her other arm and they attempted to put her back in the bed. "No, let me sit up! Let me sit in the chair! I have to get out of that bed! I have to get out of that bed!", Erica screamed! "Sh-h-h-h! Hush now, child. We will set you in the chair. Now calm down! Calm down." Dr. Swanzy made a nodded her head towards the chair, and she and Celeste gently lowered Erica into it. "If you call the police...Pedro will kill me. He will kill me!" Erica again pleaded. "I have no choice.", Dr. Swanzy quietly reiterated and gently patted Erica's shoulder. The doctor caught Celeste's eyes, nodded, and then left the room.
Erica sat in stunned silence! Purple, green and dark red bruises moaned from above the neckline of her sagging hospital gown and as they moaned, they caught Celeste's attention. A cry of ancient sorrow rose from the pit of Celeste's soul and she knelt down in front of Erica, her aging knees adding their distress to this pain-filled hospital room. Celeste placed both of her soft wrinkled hands across Erica's breastbone. "He will kill you and this baby, my dear, if you go back to him." Her hands radiated heat. Her hands radiated soft electrical sparks that short circuited Erica's panic and slowed her heart beat. It changed her breating. It changed the messages of the synaptic fireing in Erica's brain and soul. "How did you know about the baby?" Erica's voice was low, the laying on of Celeste's hands a magic potion. "I just know, child. I just know. You'd be surprised what I know." "I have no where to go. I have...I have eight other children at home...and I can't leave them." Erica's speech became slurred, Celeste's voice a tranquilizer, leading her...leading her...."You will take them with you, my dear." Celeste said, her hands lifting to rest on either side of Erica's face, the circle of calm unbroken by their shift. "You will take them with you." Celeste's eyes held Erica's, and Erica felt like she was looking deep into the universe. She felt vertigo, she felt turned upside down, she felt like she was spinning into a galaxy of infinite peace...of infinite possibility. In those eyes, there was escape and dreams and hope. "Where?" Erica faint whisper barely reached Celeste's ears. "Where?" Celeste answered "To my house. To home."
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