I had to skip my bart connection and get off a lil early. One stop before my intended destination. I made a promise to return to that second story room, knock on the door, and leave the cash behind. I felt good about payin my dues. Makin it even. Squarin out the deal. It wasn't unusual. Somethin me and her had worked out. I guess I was just a tiny bit bothered, because me and Bigger's conversation had to halt. I knew it would be disrupted, but I didn't know how to tell him. Him clinging to his own truth of how the world had caused him to murder long before. Long before he beheaded that colorless girl. Her head dangling in her own blood. Dark locks swirling in the pool of plasma. Baptizing strand after strand... It wasn't the burning of her flesh that stripped Bigger of his own dignity. It was long before and, and as I learned of who he was, is, on my campus, in the streets, in my family... I... I..I had to cease the conversation and make my departure.
When the cage door opened I walked out... Book in hand, Bigger close by, brisk air teasing my lips. I was drunken by his confession. It took a moment to gather myself and shift my body forward with each motioning step. I witnessed the world and wondered ... just wondered. My mind was still on my arranged meeting. I suppose it would be a dull encounter. Me. The door. A knock. A delivery. A brief arrangement, but warranted. I made it down the stairs and ventured in the direction of the ATM. It's almost a gurantee that I have to go 200 feet or so in the opposite direction before I head towards my destination. I often go back before moving forward. It has become an automatic response to yearning to achieve. I could prepare ahead of time knowing that I am to make this delivery and not have to go backwards, before moving forwards. Again, my mind professes the silent "A-Ha" in this mini discovery. I.. I... I went to the ATM machine and on my way I encountered a little white boy and his mother. I saw them in the distance. A table. Items on the table and an intent to solicit. I figured they would reserve their sales pitch when I walked by. I glanced as I got closer and then hurried my eyes in a different direction. 10 steps away, 9 steps, 8 steps, 7, 6, 5, 4, .... "Excuse me." The young boy blurted out. His words snatching my attention. I slowed carefully and turned my body in his direction. "Would you like to buy a brownie? I'm trying to raise money to go to France this summer and..." I jumped in and said "What school do you go to?" He was a bit puzzled by this question. He said "What school?" I said, "Yeah, what school?". He thought about it for a minute and said "St. so-and-so" and his mother quickly followed up with, "He'll be at Oakland Tech next year". I didn't think anything of that comment until now. Now, as in 1:26 a.m. on my damn couch.... Anywho, I caught a glance at the brownies and thought they looked tasty, but I couldn't have one. I also felt a small obligation to support him. I thought I would give a dollar to his cause, but found that I needed the dollars, because I had counted them as part of the money to be dropped off during my arrangement. I dug a little deeper and found a twenty-dollar bill. My mind raced, and my race raced, and my anxiety raced, as I committed to a jokingly, yet serious statement about... shedding my winter coat and not needing brownies. I gave the young man five dollars towards his cause and asked that he donate a few brownies to a person who may be homeless in the area. He and his mother thanked me repeatedly and I was off to my arrangement. It felt good leaving the money behind. It was a small contribution that could possibly lift the burden off of many black shoulders. The sagging pants and dreaded heads, and gold teeth, and loud chatter, and daunting figures... the ones that are repeatedly drawn to attention when standing in a police line up. The one's who, like Bigger Thomas, have murdered long ago... The one's who see no way out and are forced to murder, beginning with self, because selling brownies beneath the BART overpass would be a terrible fate of their double consciousness. Not a care drifted from the soul of that little white boy as he motioned towards me and swept his words around my neck. Not a worry of what I thought about him entered his mind. His innocence showed me this. Maybe my five dollars would allow an opportunity for many of the calloused white minds to conjour up Jan. The communist. The one white man who tried to empathize with Bigger. Maybe my five dollars would edge a space into the mind of this little white boy and his mother. I can't say that our interaction made me wonder what they "really" thought of me and other "dark" folks like me... but I can't help but wonder. The Oakland Tech comment was unexpected. Maybe it was her way of saying, "Hey, I am comfortable with my kid being around your kind". Maybe it was her way of saying, "Hey, I hope my kid encounters more darkies like you when he gets to Tech". Maybe it was her way of saying, "This economy has taxed my ass and we can't afford private school anymore, so I'm sending my son to a school in your neighborhood". Maybe it was her way of trying to relate in that moment. A black woman (me), someone (me) she did not know, had given her son money for a trip in the future. A black woman (me), recieved information about a black child (sarah), who was kicked out of her homeless shelter early yesterday morning (12:30 a.m.), because her mother had to sign her, sarah, and the one year old baby out of the shelter. Sarah's mother didn't alert Sarah of this and never came back for them. A black woman (me), didn't give five dollars for this cause. How do the two relate? Well, they don't. It's my own observation of the world around me. But my last piece of this is... when I passed the table one last time on our way to BART. The young man's mother smiled at me and said "There goes our friend" as I was passing. I stopped, smiled, and said "If you don't raise enough money, then you can set up a France account and go there for your senior trip." To this he looked puzzled. His mother nodded in agreement and I went on my way. I was now a friend. My five dollars earned me a small level of acceptance. I wonder what her thoughts would have been if I ignored her and her son. What biases would have flashed through her mind. How and why were they so comfortable in approaching me? The world they live in. One that caused Bigger to keep his head down and his brow aching to hold his eyes in an upward slant. A look that a dog gives you when he doesn't know how you'll respond. A look that submits weakness instead of aggression. A look that reminds the oppressor that he is law. He is master. My head slightly lowered as I walked in the direction of that little white boy. I had no intent of stopping... giving... speaking... Like bigger did with Jan and Mary, he obeyed. I too was asked for something... and I obeyed. Damn!
