|
Dorothea Smartt
generations dreaming I.
Journeywoman. Journeyman. You were a generation dreaming; journeywoman, journeyman, stepping off the plane to an unknown future from a certain past that became more and more like the promise that escaped you. You were a generation dreaming to change the pattern, undo the seams, re-style the suits you wore as you stepped off the boat, Windrush-style.
Frederic: this not so young man had struggled as a juvenile, thirties-style, to unionize, enfranchise. A troublesome man, proud to be a darkblack worker, survivor. You split the seams to suit your schemes.
Linda: journeywoman. Journeywoman, you were a generation dreaming. Coming from a certain past, coming to an unknown future, coming to bear us and spare us from the masterpattern, styled, cut, ready-to-wear suit of canes, molasses thick-set in the heat. Burning good white sugar, raising a glass of rum in the sunset of the master as you sailed away; meeting this mancountry, face-to-face with dreams. Journeywoman, journeyman, you were a generation, dreaming a world, to change.
five strands of hair
‘As a Black person and a woman I don’t read history for facts. I read it for clues’ – Alice Walker, Elle, October 1989 p.45
i. parting
I began clenched teeth, tight steel combs and mother’s fingers – slippery Dax heroines pulled out the need.
Plaited and stocking-capped, beside her head the pungent edge of frying hair, smoked brown-paper twists, greased and combed. Prevention is better than cure.
ii. clueless
Her hair is straight no twists or crosses
a wiped clean page it doesn’t read.
Curled out no markers to ancestry –
that we have bad hair that we have coolie in the family that it tough and don’t grow – no see her hair it’s straight, it doesn’t read easy.
iii. twists and turns
Fact: Your hair is an integral part of your skin. Fact: There is good hair, and there is bad hair. Fact: Hair and scalp diseases were common amongst enslaved Africans. Fact: A chemical used to straighten African hair is called ‘lye’. Fact: Natural African hair must be processed to make it manageable. Fact: Black women spend a major part of their income fixing their hair. Fact: Straightening hair made the first U.S. Black millionairess. Fact: Black women need the hairdresser more often than white women. Fact: Different styles of plaiting and braiding marked rites of passage. Fact: Unkempt hair is a sign of madness.
iv. a foreign head
She fetched all through Sunday-best dinner. Twisting and looking, the question hovered round. A well-raised Bajan girl, she was too-too polite until outside, bursting, she could ask mummy-friend bigwoman dawter, ‘You is a rasta?’
v. revert
Still shouldering a Black Star Line, he said no. “Doan vex the children hair with foolishness”. His own balding masthead, crowned with ancient mystery books, the deep science of pale-faded Egyptians – the African headdress bestowed away on me.
medusa? medusa black!
Medusa was a Blackwoman, afrikan, dread cut she eye at a sista mirror turn she same self t’stone. She looks really kill? Ask she nuh! Medusa would know. She terrible eyes leave me stone coal. Medusa lost looking for love kept behind icy eyes fixed inside the barricade for anybody who come too close, runnin’ from she own in case the worse thing happen an’ she see she self like them see she. The blood haunted: if you black, get back if you brown stick around... Is that okay? Being black your way, whitewashed an’ dyed-back black, am I easier to hold in an acceptable role? ...And if you white comelong y’alright… Make it go away, the nappiheaded nastiness too tuff too unruly too ugly too black …Get back… Scrub it bleach it operate on it powder it straighten it fry it dye it perm it turn it back on itself make it go away make it go away. Scrub it, step smiling into baths of acid and bleach it red raw peel skin of life-sustaining melanin. Operate on it blackskin – lying, useless – discard it powder it. Head? Fuck it, wild-haired woman, straighten it fry it, desperately burn scalps. Banish the snake-woman the wild-woman the all-seeing-eye woman. Dye it, remembrances of Africa fast-fadin’ in the blond highlights, turn us back on ourselves slowly making daily applications with our own hand. My hair as it comes is just not good enough. The blood haunted: if you black get back if you brown stick around and if you white comelong y’alright… Say: make it go away make it go away da nappiheaded nastiness! Is too tuff too unruly too ugly too black too tuff too unruly too ugly too black. Get back Medusa! Black! [Steups!] Get back.
|
|