T.J. Sloane

“I should have told you the rules.” “What rules?” After a moment’s hesitation, he threw up his hands, “Women rules. They cause trouble. If you don’t know that you’ll end up dead, especially around here. Stick with those girls at your school.” “You mean black girls?” “That’s right.” “Why are you telling me this?” “Because you don’t understand. White girls are not for you.” “You think I don’t know that?” “If you did, you wouldn’t have been almost beaten to death. You’d better be glad I came to rescue you. This is something your daddy should have told you.” “You know he hasn’t been here. I think he’s in Ohio.” “Well I’m telling you, around here you don’t stare at a naked white woman.” Billy went on fleshing out the rules. “We know what you’re thinking about, all her whiteness.” His eyes narrowed as he continued, “so smooth and soft.” “You’re nuts.” “I know, because I’ve seen her naked before.” “What?” “Oh yes, they go behind that part of the levee all the time. I sneak up there and look any time I want to.” “I wasn’t trying to see her; it was an accident.” “That accident could have killed you.” Grandma remained silent as the scars faded. Then she put her take on the beating. We were sitting facing each other at the kitchen table. She leaned close. We were eye-to-eye, so close I felt the warmth of her breath. “Down here a white girl’s value is determined by who is looking. To a white man her value increases with the intensity of a black man’s interest: most times just a look at her. Now for a black man, she’s worth what a white man says she’s worth. Never forget it. When that girl went down to the levee, she was trash to that boy. When you looked at her, she became golden. You’re smart in school; take this learning to the rest of your life.”