Ain't Gonna Be the Same Fool Twice

by April Sinclair

  “Why would they go and do a thing like that for?”

  “Because it’s not a sickness, that’s why.”

  Mama sucked her teeth in. “They probably just couldn’t come up with a cure. So they threw in the towel. They took the easy way out.”

  “There’s nothing to cure.”

  “Hold on while I take a pressure pill.” I felt my stomach tighten and I took a deep breath. At least we were talking about it. That was better than having to keep it all a big secret. But it was hard; I’d driven Mama to take a blood pressure pill. I tried not to feel guilty.

  Mama had returned to the phone, but Artemis had jumped out of my lap. I guess she didn’t want to be bothered with this conversation anymore. I was on my own.

  “Well, Jean Eloise, you might be able to outwit the psychiatrists, but you can’t outwit the Master. You can’t go against God and Nature without paying the consequences.”

  “God made gay people too.”

  “God made everybody, including rapists and murderers.”

  “Mama, are you equating gays and lesbians with rapists and murderers?”

  “I’m just saying that people make choices. And you can’t blame God for your actions.”

  “What if people are born gay?”

  “They still don’t have to act on it.”

  “But straight people get to act on their feelings.”

  “Sin is wrong no matter who commits it.

  “But we’re not allowed to get married.”

  “Don’t give me this ‘we’ stuff. You’re not one of them. And I know for a fact that you weren’t born gay.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I carried you for nine months, that’s how. I knew you before you knew yourself. There has never been anything abnormal about you. You weren’t even a decent tomboy. If you had some boy in you, I would’ve picked it up a long time ago.”

  “Mama, not all lesbians are diesel dykes.”

  “Well, I know that you’re not a lesbian. You need to get your behind out of that crazy place and away from those sick people. That’s why California is sliding into the ocean now.”

  “Why is California sliding into the ocean?”

  “Because San Francisco is dripping with sin, that’s why. I saw a piece on that ‘Gay Parade’ they had out there. It was just like Sodom and Gomorrah.”

  “It had nothing to do with Sodom and Gomorrah. The parade had to do with people standing up for their rights and celebrating themselves.”

  “Half-naked men dancing with each other; bare-breasted women kissing on one another. God could send an earthquake there anytime. We’re in our final days. You need to read Revelations.”

  “We’ve been in our final days ever since I’ve known you.”

  “Jean, the signs are everywhere now.”

  “Hold on, there’s somebody at the door, I don’t know who it could be. I’m not expecting anybody. I’ll be right back.”

  I returned to the phone.

  “Who was it, Satan?” Mama asked with a touch of humor in her voice.

  I had to laugh. “No, it was somebody dropping off something for my roommate. Anyway, it really bothers me that you won’t accept me for who I am.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “How can it not be true?”

  “Because, I accept you just fine. It’s you who doesn’t accept yourself. You’re the one who’s going against your own nature.”

  “Mama, loving another woman is my nature.”

  “No it’s not. You think rubbing your body up against another woman makes you a lesbian. Well, you’re wrong. You’re just going through a phase right now, that’s all.”

  “A phase?”

  “Yes, and all I ask is that you keep this mess to yourself. It would break your father’s and your brothers’ hearts if they knew. They might take this as a rejection of them.”

  “Mama, this is not about hating men. This is about loving women.”

  “And you certainly don’t need to upset your grandmother,” she continued. “Her blood pressure is higher than mine. You don’t want to cause her to have a stroke, do you?”

  “So I’m just supposed to pretend to everyone, live a lie?”

  “I’m trying to protect you.”

  “Protect me?”

  “Yes, because when you grow out of this mess, you’ll look back at this time and thank me for not letting you make a complete fool of yourself with everybody.”

  “Mama, I am not going through a phase. I’ll be twenty-two years old next month. I’m old enough to know what I want.”

  “Talk to me again when you’re pushing thirty-five. Then I’ll give what you say more weight.”

  Pushing thirty-five! “Mama, I’m no virgin!” I blurted out. “I was never satisfied by a man.”

  “How many men have you been with? You sound like a streetwalker.”

  “I’ve had a few experiences, OK?”

  “Jean, there’s more to a relationship than just sex. And most of these young dudes out here don’t know what they’re doing anyway. You just haven’t met the right man yet, that’s all.”

  “Mama, there might not be a right man.”

  “When your father and I were newlyweds, I had problems.”

  “You and Daddy had problems?” I shouldn’t have been surprised, since I’d never remembered them showing any affection for each other.

  “I had trouble relaxing,” Mama whispered, even though I was sure that she was alone. “The doctor told me to drink a glass of wine beforehand. It worked, and I have three children to prove it. That’s what you need to do. Find you a good husband and drink a glass of wine beforehand.”

  “Mama, it’s not that simple.”

  “Jean Eloise,” Mama lowered her voice even more, “you’re not doing anything oral, are you?”

  “What’s this about Kevin joining the army? Is he crazy? I know the Vietnam War is over, but still.”

  “Never mind about Kevin, I’m gonna say an extra prayer for you, just in case.”

  That night Traci and I rolled around naked on clean-smelling sheets. The Isley Brothers album was playing on the box. We held each other and kissed. “You wanna do 69?” Traci murmured.

  “What’s 69?”

  “We both eat each other at the same time. We’re head to toe and toe to head.”

  I tensed up. I’d never done oral sex before. Except for the time a college boyfriend forced me to go down on him. When Myron initially asked me to give him some head, I refused, saying I wasn’t ready for that. I was still pretty green, sexually.

  To my surprise, Myron became angry and pushed my head on top of his dick. I was afraid not to go along with it, because we were already in the middle of having sex. I knew Myron was stronger than me and I was afraid of getting hurt. So, I sucked Myron’s dick like he ordered me too. But I went numb, and I didn’t feel much of anything. After that incident, I broke up with Myron. He apologized later, saying he only wanted to make me an all-the-way lover. But I was too through with him. Grandma used to say, “Don’t never stay with a man you’re afraid of.” And Daddy used to say, “If you ain’t got respect, you ain’t got anything.”

  Traci and I had taken a hot bubble bath together earlier. And even though I’d washed her pussy myself, the thought of tasting genitals didn’t appeal to me.

  “I … I … I … d-don’t think I’m ready for that.”

  “Well, I don’t want you to do anything before you’re ready.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “You don’t have to be sorry. You just have to be comfortable.”

  “You’re so sweet.” I kissed Traci. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  I felt a warm glow. It was the first time that Traci and I had said we loved each other.

  “If you like, I could just go down on you,” Traci offered.

  “No, that wouldn’t be fair.”

  “Haven’t you heard all’s fair in love and w
ar?”

  “I don’t believe everything I hear.”

  “Well, let’s just rub our chocolate pussies together and see what we come up with then.”

  I got on top of Traci and mashed myself into her. We giggled when our vaginas made mushy sounds. Our clitorises touched and we both moaned. I imagined myself wallowing naked in warm sand, waiting for the tide to come in.

  I became aware of my own saliva and my tongue pressing against the roof of my mouth, tasting my teeth. The walls of my jaw trembled. Suddenly my mouth felt the urge to merge with Traci’s pussy. I slid down her hot, sweet, cinnamon skin. Traci writhed with pleasure when my tongue sampled the salty, gumbo flavor between her legs.

  I was sitting at the kitchen table staring out at the overcast sky when Jawea walked in with the mail and handed me an envelope. It turned out to be a rejection letter from a public relations firm I’d interviewed with. I felt disappointed, even though the people in the office had been uptight.

  “This woman named Bear came by and dropped off a bunch of fliers. Over there on the counter.”

  “Far out,” Jawea said, picking up the stack of papers. “These will help Inez Garcia’s defense.”

  “Who’s Inez Garcia?”

  “She’s a Latina sister on trial for killing some asshole who raped her.”

  “Sounds like self-defense.”

  “Damn straight, but they’re trying to nail her cause she killed him some time afterward. Like big fucking deal.”

  “Yeah, women are just supposed to be victims.”

  “Inez is a righteous woman who struck a blow for all of us. I’m going to go over to the East Bay and put these up.”

  “Oakland and Berkeley?” I asked with interest.

  “Yeah, you wanna come?”

  I hesitated, but then I remembered that Jawea’s mother wouldn’t be joining us.

  “It beats moping around here on a Saturday afternoon,” I said.

  “Sistah!” A black woman in army fatigues and dreadlocks called out in the Berkeley Women’s Center. It was like she’d just found her lost kin.

  I figured that she was talking to me, since I was the only other black woman in the reception area.

  “Hey,” I greeted the woman with a smile. Mama would disown me if I wore my hair like that, I thought. Mama needed to count her blessings.

  “Nice to see you in here.”

  “This is my first time. Interesting board. I’m job hunting.”

  “Any luck?”

  “I wrote down a couple of things. One is a receptionist job at the Personal Change Center in the city. The other one is at a TV station, KTVU in Oakland.”

  “Channel Two, down by Jack London Square.”

  “Where is Jack London Square?”

  “It’s near downtown, Oakland’s version of Fisherman’s Wharf.”

  “Oh.”

  “By the way, my name is Brenda.”

  “I’m Stevie.”

  “Stevie, be sure and tell other sistahs about this place. I just joined the collective, and I want to get more women of color involved. We’ve got to make our voices heard.”

  “Well, I’m living in San Francisco. I’m sort of new in town.”

  “Welcome. Now, don’t get over in the city and get lost and we never see you again. You know where we are now.”

  “Don’t worry, I shall return.”

  “You don’t know, trying to get folks who stay in the city to cross the bridge is like pulling teeth. They think they’re living in Camelot over there. They turn their noses up at us. They really look down on Oakland.”

  “Well, I don’t have that attitude. I think Oakland has its good points,” I said, recalling the beauty of Lake Merritt and the hills perched above.

  “Hey, Brenda,” Jawea said, walking over to us.

  “What’s happenin’, Jawea?”

  “Putting up fliers to help Inez.”

  “Right on!”

  “So, you met my new roommate?”

  “Y’all are roomates?”

  “Yeah, Stevie is subletting Kate’s room while she’s in India studying yoga.”

  “Traci still your roommate too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Tell Traci I said to bring her butt over to the sistah side of the bay, sometimes. Didn’t she get my flier?”

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  “We had a racism workshop a month ago and Traci was nowhere to be seen. Probably was somewhere seducing some white woman stead’a being over here taking care of business.”

  I gulped. I didn’t appreciate Brenda talking about my Traci like that, especially in front of a white person.

  “Traci’s been busy with Loving Foods, they were short-staffed for a while. She has to work on Saturdays,” I said in her defense.

  “Whatever,” Brenda said.

  Jawea cleared her throat. “By the way, Stevie and Trace are lovers now.”

  “You and Traci?”

  I nodded, I felt a little embarrassed about having it put so bluntly. It wasn’t like all we did was have sex. Quite the contrary these days; Traci was often either tired because of her long collective meetings, or only interested in getting high on coke. But I knew that it was the way gays and lesbians usually referred to their relationships. I supposed I’d get used to it.

  “Well, wonders never cease. Never say never. Tell Traci I’m glad to see her up with a sistah for a change. Seems like a together sister, too.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jawea turned toward me. “Well, we gotta head over to the Women’s Health Collective, KPFA, and La Peña.”

  We nodded our good-byes.

  “That woman sure takes up a lot of space,” Jawea sighed when we were out of earshot.

  “She’s average size.”

  “I mean her energy.”

  “Oh.”

  “Brenda doesn’t usually give me the time of day. She’s never asked me ‘what’s happenin’ before. Probably did it because I was with you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, you count. I’m just another white girl as far as she’s concerned.”

  “Brenda was kind of downing Traci, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, and Traci’s got good politics. She helped start a shelter for battered women. She’s volunteered with Bay Area Women Against Rape. She’s fighting to keep them from tearing down the International Hotel. And she contributed money to the Justice for Joann Little Committee. It pisses me off when somebody whose political work can’t hold a candle to Trace’s puts her down.”

  “I hear you,” I mumbled as we walked up Shattuck Avenue, Berkeley’s main drag. But I was still bothered by Brenda’s comment about Traci and white women. What did she think Traci thought I was, chopped liver?

  Traci and I were sitting on the countertop, watching our clothes spin dry.

  “Traci, am I the first black woman that you’ve ever been with?”

  I’d waited till the laundromat was empty, except for two old women speaking Spanish, to start this conversation.

  “Been with how?”

  “You know, lovers with.”

  “Why do you ask me that?”

  “I’m just curious. People seem so surprised that we’re together. Like Pat and Brenda, for example.”

  “Pat’s just talking. She’s living in a glass house. Pat knows what side her bread is buttered on. And Brenda is too hung up on this black thang. Hey, I’m black and I’m proud too. But, I’ve got sense enough to rub the cat the way the fur lies. Stevie, I don’t know about you, but I refuse to let my color limit me. I’ve got places I can stay all over the world, counta I’m open.”

  “Sorry to interrupt you, but one of the dryers stopped.” I pointed. I hopped down and felt the damp clothes and fed the dryer.

  “Can’t none of us go home again,” Traci continued. “Brenda wants to put me down, but the black community doesn’t want her bulldagger ass. They ridicule her hair and her clothes on the streets of Oakland. But yet she’s so black.
She’s always tripping on racism. Hell, if her ass was on fire, plenty of black folks wouldn’t even piss on her. Hey, all kinds of white women would be bringing me pails of water.”

  “It’s hard to be black and gay,” I said defending Brenda. “I mean racism is still a reality and yet you’re right; a lot of black people are anti-gay.”

  “Yeah, racism is a reality,” Traci agreed. “But people don’t have to be all the time dwelling on it. This is 1975, it’s time to reap some of the benefits of the struggle. Like Werner Erhard says,” Traci continued, “most people are afraid to take responsibility for their own lives.”

  “Are you into est?”

  “No, but I slept with a woman who was into it, once. Some of it makes sense. Like the whole thing about not letting folks go to the bathroom.”

  I shook my head. “Sounds contradictory: ‘Take responsibility for your own life; but let me tell you when to pee.’”

  “They don’t actually stop you from going to the bathroom. They just refuse to give you permission. The whole point is to get people to draw their own boundaries,” Traci explained. “Only wimps pee on themselves in the process,” she added.

  “I get it now,” I said. “But it still sounds like a cult.”

  I hoisted myself back up on the countertop next to Traci.

  “When you were with white women, didn’t you feel cut off, you know, isolated sometimes?” I asked, swinging my feet.

  Traci shrugged her shoulders. “I can go anyplace and never forget where I came from. And I can be with anybody and still know who I am.”

  “Are you out to your whole family?”

  “Yeah, they know. They’d have to be stupid not to know. They’re right up there in Sacramento.”

  “Does your sister accept you?” I knew that Traci’s father was cool with her sexuality, but her mother and brother weren’t.

  “Yeah,” Traci answered. “Just as long as it’s never mentioned. You know how some black folks are. They can accept anything so long as it’s hidden.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.” I’d told Traci about my conversation with my mother. “Look, another dryer has stopped,” I pointed. “You deal with this one.”

  “What it is?” David greeted me.

  “I just called to see what’s happenin’ with you all. Thought I’d catch up with you before you went back to school.”