Like One of the Family

by Alice Childress

  My dear, you could have cut the silence with a knife because countin’ to ten was not enough and I had to go past seventy-five before I dared answer her…. But before I could open my mouth she adds, “How do you ever stand it?” I took ten more after that and mumbled something about, “Oh, I don’t live this fast all the time.” … Believe me when I say that the prettiest sight I ever saw in my life was that big train sittin’ in the station waitin’ to carry her away from here. That’s a fact … and you know I’m fond of Mamie!

  Today … listen close now … today I get a letter from her sister June sayin’ that Mamie had such a good time while she was here that she … June … had decided to spend her vacation with me next summer. My ankles started to swell just sittin’ there thinkin’ about it, and I made up my mind then and there that I could not go through the business of bein’ personal guide on a merry-go-round for another two-week stretch…. Of course, she’s welcome but no more of this jumpin’ through hoops for yours truly, especially when half of the time the visitor goes back home without the least idea of what New York City is all about or why millions of people stay here and also like it…. I know it! All these out-of-towners think we’re a bunch of good-timers!

  Marge, you know it is a rare thing for me to be runnin’ different places … and even if my health could stand it, my pocketbook can’t…. That’s right, there’s hardly a small town in the land where you’ll find people goin’ less than your friend Mildred, but whenever I go away I soon find that I’m gettin’ real homesick for this New York … because I like it!

  When I’m here, I enjoy stayin’ home with the thought that there is a million places for me to go if I wanted to, but when I’m away I hate stayin’ home with the thought that I have to because nothin’s goin’ on…. Yes, mam, that makes a real difference.

  When I’m away I miss the subway…. No, not the rush and crowd, but the people. I like ridin’ with folks of every race, color and kind…. They make stories go round in my head, and sometimes I go past my stop because I’m so busy imaginin’ their children and homes and what kind of lives they live…. One day I was in a super-market and I saw this East Indian with a beautiful pink turban on his head…. Oh, he was busy buyin’ a box of Uneeda biscuits…. That stayed on my mind for a long time because the turban made me think of pearls and palaces … but there he was as big as life … with biscuits! … Yes, I miss these things when I’m away. I miss the people walkin’ along with their little radios held up to their ear so’s they can listen to the Dodgers, the big ships standin’ still and mighty in the harbor, the tough little tug boats huffin’ and puffin’ up the river, the fellas pushin’ carts of suits and dresses in and out of downtown traffic, people readin’ all manner of foreign newspapers and such, all the big sounds of swishin’ automobiles, planes overhead and children shoutin’ until it all comes together and turns into one big “New York-sound.”

  … Talk about missin’ things! … I miss the friendliness of total strangers when they gather on a corner and try to direct somebody who doesn’t speak English…. Yes Marge, I bet many a soul has ended up on the west side of nowhere tryin’ to follow the advice of New Yorkers who are always gettin’ lost themselves, even though they have been here ever since the flood…. Ain’t it the truth? … I also miss the nice way your neighbors don’t bother to keep up with what time you come and go or who visits your house and how long they stayed…. That’s true, too, them same neighbors will rally-round in case of sickness or death…. I miss seein’ the line in front of the Apollo waitin’ to see all those fine stars like Nat King Cole and Sammy Davis and Eartha Kitt and Count Basie and everything…. Tell it now!

  Talk about things to miss! … I miss the way the workmen are always diggin’ at the street pipes…. It’s kind of mystifyin’ because you never know what’s bein’ dug, but you can stop and watch a little while anyway and think about nothin’ in particular and then pass on…. Oh honey! … I miss life!

  But Marge, what I miss most is a feelin’ in the air, a feelin’ that hits you right in the railroad station…. I can’t describe it in words too well, but it seeps into you and it’s real excitin’. I guess maybe you’d call it a “something’s-gonna-happen-and-you-don’t-know-what-it-is” kind of feelin’…. You right … I get sick and tired of folks sayin’ “I could never live here” … because even though I may not ever get hold of enough money to travel to far-off places, I can still say I’ve met some fine Puerto Ricans and Irish, and Italian, and French, and African and some of all kind of folk…. This City is far from perfect, but it gets you to the place where you just want to try and make it perfect. Oh sure, I don’t mind June comin’ to visit, but I’m gonna try and make her see my home the way I see it!

  … Hold on, Marge! No, I wouldn’t go that far…. I ain’t sayin’ that everything here is better than any place else and neither will I take any cracks at the South! Because home is where the heart is and everybody knows their own home the best.

  All I’m sayin’ is I wish people would stop tellin’ us “I could never live here.”

  ALL ABOUT MY JOB

  MARGE, I sure am glad that you are my friend…. No, I do not want to borrow anything or ask any favors and I wish you’d stop bein’ suspicious everytime somebody pays you a compliment. It’s a sure sign of a distrustful nature.

  I’m glad that you are my friend because everybody needs a friend but I guess I need one more than most people…. Well, in the first place I’m colored and in the second place I do housework for a livin’ and so you can see that I don’t need a third place because the first two ought to be enough reason for anybody to need a friend.

  You are not only a good friend but you are also a convenient friend and fill the bill in every other way…. Well, we are both thirty-two years old; both live in the same building; we each have a three room apartment for which we pay too devilish much, but at the same time we got better sense than to try and live together. And there are other things, too. We both come from the South and we also do the same kinda work: housework.

  Of course, you have been married, and I have not yet taken the vows, but I guess that’s the only difference unless you want to count the fact that you are heavier than I am and wear a size eighteen while I wear a sixteen…. Marge, you know that you are larger, that’s a fact! Oh, well, let’s not get upset about it! The important thing is that I’m your friend, and you’re mine and I’m glad about it!

  Why, I do believe I’d lose my mind if I had to come home after a day of hard work, rasslin’ ’round in other folks’ kitchens if I did not have a friend to talk to when I got here…. Girl, don’t you move ’cause it would be terrible if I couldn’t run down a flight of steps and come in here to chew the fat in the evenin’. But if you ever get tired of me, always remember that all you have to do is say, “Mildred, go home,” and I’ll be on my way! … I did not get mad the last time you told me that! Girl, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! … No, I’m not callin’ you a liar but I’m sayin’ you just can’t remember the truth.

  Anyhow, I’m glad that we’re friends! I got a story to tell you about what happened today…. No, not where I work although it was about where I work.

  The church bazaar was open tonight and I went down to help out on one of the booths and, oh, my nerves! you never saw so many la-de-da fancy folks in all your life! And such introducin’ that was goin’ on. You shoulda heard ’em. “Do meet Mrs. So-and-so who has just returned from Europe,” and “Do meet Miss This-and-that who has just finished her new book” and “Do meet Miss This-that-and-the-other who is on the Board of Directors of everything that is worthwhile!”

  Honey, it was a dog! … Oh, yes, it was a real snazzy affair, and the booths was all fixed up so pretty, and they had these fine photographs pinned up on the wall. The photographs showed people doin’ all manner of work. Yes, the idea of the pictures was to show how we are improvin’ ourselves by leaps and bounds through the kinda work that we’re doin’.

  Well, that was
a great old deal with me except that if they was talkin’ ’bout people doin’ work, it seemed to me that I was the only one around there that had took a lick at a snake in years! … No, it wasn’t a drag at all because I was really enjoyin’ the thing just like you’d go for a carnival or a penny-arcade once in a while.

  My booth was the “Knick-Knack” corner and my counter was full of chipped-china doo-dads and ash trays and penny banks and stuff like that, and I was really sellin’ it, too. There was a little quiet lady helpin’ me out and for the life of me I couldn’t figure why she was so scared-like and timid lookin’.

  I was enjoyin’ myself no end, and there was so many bigwigs floatin’ around the joint ’til I didn’t know what to expect next! … Yes, girl, any second I thought some sultan or king or somebody like that was gonna fall in the door! Honey, I was how-do-you-doin’ left and right! Well, all the excitement keeps up ’til one group of grand folks stopped at our booth and begun to chat with us and after the recitation ’bout what they all did, one lady turned to my timid friend and says, “What do you do?”

  Marge, Miss Timid started sputterin’ and stammerin’ and finally she outs with, “Nothin’ much.” That was a new one on me ’cause I had never heard ’bout nobody who spent their time doin’ “nothin’ much.” Then Miss Grand-lady turns to me and says, “And what do you do?” … Of course I told her! “I do housework,” I said. “Oh,” says she, “you are a housewife.” “Oh, no,” says I, “I do housework, and I do it every day because that is the way I make my livin’ and if you look around at these pictures on the wall you will see that people do all kinds of work, I do housework.”

  Marge, they looked kinda funny for a minute but the next thing you know we were all laughin’ and talkin’ ’bout everything in general and nothin’ in particular. I mean all of us was chattin’ except Miss Timid.

  When the folks drifted away, Miss Timid turns to me and says, “I do housework too but I don’t always feel like tellin’. People look down on you so.”

  Well, I can tell you that I moved on in after that remark and straightened her out! … Now, wait a minute, Marge! I know people do make nasty cracks about houseworkers. Sure, they will say things like “pot-slingers” or “the Thursday-night-off” crowd, but nobody gets away with that stuff around me, and I will sound off in a second about how I feel about my work.

  Marge, people who do this kinda work got a lot of different ideas about their jobs, I mean some folks are ashamed of it and some are proud of it, but I don’t feel either way. You see, on accounta many reasons I find that I got to do it and while I don’t think that housework is the grandest job I ever hope to get, it makes me mad for any fools to come lookin’ down their nose at me!

  If I had a child, I would want that child to do something that paid better and had some opportunity to it, but on the other hand it would distress me no end to see that child get some arrogant attitude toward me because I do domestic work. Domestic workers have done a awful lot of good things in this country besides clean up peoples’ houses. We’ve taken care of our brothers and fathers and husbands when the factory gates and office desks and pretty near everything else was closed to them; we’ve helped many a neighbor, doin’ everything from helpin’ to clothe their children to buryin’ the dead.

  … Yes, mam, and I’ll help you to tell it! We built that church that the bazaar was held in! And it’s a rare thing for anybody to find a colored family in this land that can’t trace a domestic worker somewhere in their history…. How ’bout that, girl! … Yes, there’s many a doctor, many a lawyer, many a teacher, many a minister that got where they are ’cause somebody worked in the kitchen to put ’em there, and there’s also a lot of ’em that worked in kitchens themselves in order to climb up a little higher!

  Of course, a lot of people think it’s smart not to talk about slavery anymore, but after freedom came, it was domestics that kept us from perishin’ by the wayside…. Who you tellin’? I know it was our dollars and pennies that built many a school! …

  Yes, I know I said I wasn’t particular proud about bein’ a domestic worker, but I guess I am. What I really meant to say was that I had plans to be somethin’ else, but time and trouble stopped me from doin’ it. So I told this little Miss Meek, “Dear, throw back your shoulders and pop your fingers at the world because the way I see it there’s nobody with common sense that can look down on the domestic worker!”

  BUBBA

  MARGE, LIFE JUST BRIMS over with first one thing and then another, and if you throw all your troubles in a bag, there’s no tellin’ which one will jump out first…. No, I didn’t have another run-in with the rent man. It’s my sister. Listen to me, Marge, and stop crochetin’ that doily…. Oh, is it a chair-back? … No, I don’t want you to teach me how to make one ’cause I got other things on my mind.

  Now where was I? … That’s right! My sister. She calls me up today and says, “Mildred, I want you to come over and talk to Bubba ’cause he’s after gettin’ himself in trouble.” … Bubba is her son…. His name is John, we just call him Bubba.

  Well, I jumped over there on the fly ’cause I’m just crazy about my nephew.

  Marge, the long and short of it was that Bubba has been mixin’ in politics and things. You know what I mean. Shoutin’ about civil rights and sendin’ off petitions and carryin’ signs in front of movin’ picture theatres, and Lord only knows he don’t think nothin’ of criticizin’ anybody’s government any time! My sister said, “Bubba’s gonna land in jail!” Yes, that’s what she was worried about!

  Well, I sat Bubba down and I says: “Bubba, why don’t you behave and stop worry in’ your mother?”

  Marge, you should have seen him! He’s a handsome little wiry fellow, hardly bigger than a minute and got them big flashin’ brown eyes and his mouth is set just so, you just should have seen him. He started pacin’ the floor and when he stopped, he gave me a look. Eight there and then I saw he wasn’t gonna be nobody’s pushover.

  “Aunt Mildred,” he said, “hurtin’ mama is the last thing in this world I’d want to do.” I jumped in right there and started on him again: “Well, doggone! Why don’t you behave, why you so hard-headed!” I felt like I was pickin’ on him somethin’ terrible, but I couldn’t afford to let him get the upper hand, I hollered at him, “You got nothin’ else to do but be a worriation to your mother and drive her to the grave!”

  And then he started talkin’: “Aunt Mildred, I want to be free, I want some of everything there is to have, I want decent jobs, I want to go to any school that’s teachin’ what I want to learn, I don’t want to ride the back of these buses!”

  It would have been funny if the thing wasn’t so serious. Florence jumped up in his face and the way she was wavin’ her arms around you would’ve thought she was gonna take off and fly! “Listen to him!” she says, and the way she was screamin’ it was a cryin’ shame. “Listen to him talkin’ about ridin’ in the back of the bus! Don’t nobody have to ride the back of the bus up here! You’re in the North! Mildred he is in the North and yet always sayin’ things like that!” “Now wait a minute,” I said. But Bubba comes right back at her before I can fit a word in edgewise.

  “I want to go down South and ride too, also North, East and West! I got rights that I want to use, and anytime I’m old enough to be called in some army, I’m old enough to fight for my rights! I want to be free! Are we free, Aunt Mildred?”

  Well, Florence kept lookin’ to me to say somethin’ so after I thought for a while I said, “No.” And then I asked her, “Are we free, Florence?” And she answered, “I don’t want nothin’ or nobody to hurt Bubba, that’s all.”

  He was most distressed, Marge, and the words came pourin’ out of his mouth so fast it was enough to make your head swim. “Aunt Mildred, I don’t have to tell you about our troubles. You know how we’re treated, I’m tired of bein’ kicked around and mocked.”

  “Go on, son,” I said. And believe me when I tell you he did. “I can’t close my
eyes, ears and mouth and swallow down my own manhood. I can’t sing no ‘Tom Song’ about ‘All is well.’ I can’t crawl around and be content to eat my crust of bread and sleep a restless sleep! Damn if I can! I can’t do them things and that’s the size of it! It’s wrong, wrong, wrong!”

  Marge, Florence began to cry. “I know all that, but there’s others wiser than you, Mr. Smarty. Furthermore, I ain’t gonna have you cursin’ me! Shame on you cursin’ your own mama!”

  “Oh, Florence,” I said, “he didn’t do no cursin’.”

  “He said damn, and I heard him!”

  Bubba kept plowin’ ahead: “All them ‘Toms’ that’s supposed to be wiser than me is a bunch of mealy-mouth liars. All they’re tryin’ to do is hold on to the few dollars that Mr. Charlie lets ’em have!”

  Marge, you would have thought that lightnin’ had struck my sister. “I ain’t gonna have you full of hatred for white folks, it just brings on misery.” Then Bubba cut her off again: “I do not hate white people, I have plenty of white friends!”

  “Friends!” yells Florence, “Mildred, they are all just like Bubba, always raisin’ noise and fuss about things like that, gettin’ into trouble!”

  “And that’s how I can know that they are my friends” says Bubba, “I’m tellin’ you the truth. All of us have to go off to these wars and I’m tellin’ you that it’s a poor kind of man that won’t fight for his own freedom!”

  “Amen,” I said. Then Florence spoke up softly, “I know, I know, I just don’t wanna see you hurt, Bubba.”