Ain't Gonna Be the Same Fool Twice (20 page)

“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.”

“So, what's the nigga's name?” David joked.

“Who are you talking about?” I asked, cradling the phone.

“Don't play dumb with me, Jean. I was born at night, but I wasn't born last night. The word on the street is, you out there laid up with some nigga.”

I got quiet. I felt like I was in a bind. I wanted to be able to be honest with David. I'd always gotten along with my brothers. “Look, I was with somebody for a minute, but that's dead. Right now I've got some roommates and I'm trying to find a job. So it's not even about a man. Hey, I just fell in love with San Francisco, that's all.”

“You just fell in love with San Francisco, and that's why you're staying out there?”

“Yeah.”

“You not grinning up in some man's face?

“No, I'm not.”

“So, that's the real deal, huh.”

“You got it, brothaman.”

“Well, if you say so.” David sounded like he was torn between disappointment and skepticism. “So, how do you like those A's? You think they'll wind up in the series?”

I reminded David that for the most part I didn't follow sports.

David yelled upstairs for Mama to pick up the other phone before saying good-bye.

“Kevin flunked his physical, on account of his asthma,” Mama reported matter-of-factly.

“I wasn't so gung ho about him going in the army, anyway,” I reminded her.

“Well, I wasn't knocking it. At least it would keep him off the streets. Thank goodness, David is headed back to Iowa soon. He and Kevin both can rattle off the names of boys who have been shot or are in jail or who are selling pot. There's a lot worse out here than the military.”

“Is Kevin taking it hard?”

“Not too hard to keep him from going out partying with his friends. He said to thank you for the baseball cap.”

“Tell him he's welcome.”

“But like I told Kevin, he better try to get his behind in somebody's college. That little piece of job he has at the record store isn't hitting on anything. Education is something that nobody can take away from you. Everybody can't play football or basketball or cut a hit record. That's why it's really sad to see you out there wasting your potential.”

“Me, wasting my potential? What do you mean?”

“I mean you could be back here really doing something with your life. You refused to follow through on that newspaper job offer in Monmouth.”

“I have no desire to be stuck in Monmouth, Illinois. I'm sorry.”

“No, you'd rather spend your time standing around in some bar, picking up women. You're sorry all right.”

“Mama, I'm out here pounding the pavement. I am not standing around some bar all of the time. And for your information, I'm in a relationship.”

“The other women at church used to say to me, ‘Mrs. Stevenson, what did you feed your children, for them to turn out so well? You have to let us in on your secret.'” It was obvious that Mama didn't want to hear about my relationship. “There was a time I could hold my head up high,” she continued, “but now …”

“But now, what?”

“Never mind, your father just walked in. Say ‘hello' to him.”

“Hi, Jeannie.” I could tell my father missed me, because Jeannie was his pet name for me. “It's hot here in Chicago! Is it hot out there?”

“No, Daddy, it's cool and foggy. You need a serious coat here, some nights.”

“You're wearing a coat in August?”

“Yeah, I had to borrow my roommate's.”

“I can't believe that, we're burning up out here.”

“San Francisco has different weather.”

“I'll say. It sounds like a strange place. Your mother and
I
were talking and we both agreed. If you can't find anything out there, you should just pack up and come on home.”

“The job market is pretty tight, but I'm not ready to throw in the towel yet.”

“If you need anything, don't be too proud to ask. We don't want you out there doing without.”

“Thanks, but I know you all are trying to make ends meet with David in college and Kevin maybe going.”

“David's on a basketball scholarship. We can't afford to support you out there, but we can at least scrape up enough money to send you a one-way ticket back. And if you live here at home, you can count on three hots and a cot.”

“I know, but I like San Francisco. It's an adventure.”

“Well, I'm just reminding you that you got a home that you can always come back to.”

“Thanks, Daddy, that means a lot.”

“Your mother wants to talk to you again.”

“Jean, have you found a church yet?”

I hadn't ever said that I was looking for a church. But I just simply answered no.

“Well, nothing in your life is going to be right until you get right with God.” Of course we both knew she was talking about my sexuality. But I didn't want to get into it with her so I just said, “Good-bye, Mama.” Besides, Daddy might be in earshot.

“A penny for your thoughts.”

Traci made me jump. I'd been sitting and staring out of the kitchen window ever since I'd hung up the phone.

Traci wrapped her arms around me. I turned and kissed her on the mouth. “I didn't even hear you come in. My mind was somewhere else. I just finished talking to my mother about a half-hour ago.”