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Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Their Eyes Were Watching God

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I stand before ya’ll today wid the purpose of telling a story. Rather, my intentions are to tell ya’ll, not preach, a story � a story of facts wid only a minimal amownt of peppering wid mah emotional bias. Mah story of self-exploration, self-empowerment, and ultimately, self-realization, begins with mah birth as a mule. What’s a mule you might ask? A mule in the most literal sense is a half-horse, half-donkey. All you old-generational folks know dat “de nigger woman is de mule uh de world so fur as Ah can see” (14). A mule can be compared to a mulatto, which brings me to the start of mah journey. A mulatto, half-black, half-white, was wut God fated me to be. I was born confused wid no identity. I wanted to shine mah own light, fullow mah own path without worrying about de darkness in an attempt to discover truth � mah pear tree.


Slavery kept mah Nanny from fulfilling her “dreams of whut a woman oughta be and to do” (16). Likker and a sick ol’ man kept mah ma from fulfilling Nanny’s dreams. I tell you, many a times the “Lawd a’mussy!” (1). Naturally, I was given the burden of mendin mah Nanny’s “cracked plate” (0). Puttin together the pieces of dat darn cracked plate took “the biggest thing God ever made, the horizon, and pinched it in to such a little bit of a thing that [I] could tie it about [Nanny’s] neck tight enough to choke her” (8). Nevertheless, I kept my fa├žade by marryin all 60 acres of Logan Killicks. And in those 60 acres was a “lonesome place like a stump in the middle of the woods” () where I waited for love, which never did come, to begin. Instead I was “surprised” wid workin a plow and a threaten from mah “love” himself to kill me wid his axe cuz of mah “powerful independence” (0). Then dat mean ol’ controlling sermon-wishin lady died, and I was able to throw off mah nasty domestic apron and sail like a majestic ship into all 00 dollars of Mr. Joe Starks. He appeared as ah man wid principles who spoke fuh change and chance to expand the God-given gift of de horizon. Boy, was I suh wrong! I became suffocated because of his head-rags, mah silent rebellions, and his force of “irresistible maleness” (7) before whom de whole world bowed. I was gaspin fo mah long flowy hair, “blossomy openings dusting pollen,” and “glistening young fruit where the petals used to be” (7). I still remained a mule, objectified like a medal around his neck.


After dat man Jody, with “de change uh life” (7) under his britches, died, mah head rags burned, and mah liberated hair sailed with de free wind. Den I met Tea Cake. Tea Cake gave me a chance to truly live in mah fruitful pear tree. I was done with the “love game” and told myself dat “ah done lived Grandma’s way, now Ah means to live mine” (114). I married all million ounces of Tea Cake’s love and youthfulness. He presented me with opportunities to shoot, drive a car, and enjoy mah personal beauty. In mah eyes, and surely in all of your eyes, “he was a glance from God” (106). He dint force me to conform to all of yuh standard rules of society. I lived how I wanted to live. Mah “self-crushing love” (18) allowed mah soul to crawl out and expand mah horizon fartha than Ah’d eva imagined. I pulled it in “like a great fish-net. I pulled it from around the waist of the world and draped it over [mah] shoulder” ( ). Den, while savin mah life - while savin mah life - “that big old dawg with the hatred in his eyes” manifested himself in mah precious pear tree. Although Tea Cake was still physically alive, he was mentally gone. He snarled like that big dawg, and soon, “something else was looking out of his face” (181). I had to pull the trigger because “Tea Cake couldn’t come back to himself until he had got rid of that mad dog that was in him and he couldn’t get rid of [de] dog and live” (187). He needed to be put out of his physical misery.


Through my journey of ultimate self-realization, I have come to learn dat passion and love are tied to violence. I have come to learn dat love duhs not equal property. I have come to learn dat love duhs not equal “some dressed up dude dat got to look at de sole of his shoe…tuh see whether he got enough leather dere tuh make it across” (). I have come to learn dat true love is planted before marriage and blooms during marriage. I have come to learn dat age don’t make no difference. I have come to learn dat de pear tree is attainable. I have come to learn dat freedom is “something internal,” and “man himself must make his own emancipation” (16).


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I am neither a cold-blooded murderer nor a poor-broken creature. I am a woman who has experienced and shared the power of love. I am a woman who has gone to God and found out about livin’ fuh myself. I am a woman who is truly happy and satisfied.


Now, I don’t expect ya’ll to have tears in yuh eyes. I don’t expect ya’ll to pity me. I don’t expect ya’ll to pardon me. I don’t expect ya’ll to understand mah story. Just don’t misunderstand. It is not death I fear, it is misunderstanding. I fear not death cuz I “kin see de light at daybreak” and “don’t keer if [I] die at dusk” (15). Until ya’ll choose mah fate, mah eyes are and will always be watching God.





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