Oppressed (10 page)

“
But…”

“
No buts! There are hundreds of
greedy Kings and Queens in this city who want power and control
purely for selfish purposes. Your heart is pure and you have
spirit, which makes you the perfect leader. You don’t need a
wealthy protector; you’re strong enough to protect yourself. Don’t
say yes! ”

“
Cecile!” Maman’s shriek
pierced my ears.

I rolled my eyes, took a deep breath and
turned around.

Her eyes were filled with rage. “Where
have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“
Run, silly Cecile!” Bade
hissed.

“
Who were you talking to?”
she asked as she glanced around the empty balcony.

“
No one,” I
lied.

She grabbed me by my thin arm and pulled
me close. “You’ve caught the very selective eye of Monsieur
Edmond,” she whispered proudly into my ear. She guided my attention
towards a tall twenty-something year-old man with dark brown hair,
icy blue eyes, a long refined nose and a strong jaw. With his
perfectly tailored jacket, ruffled white shirt, fine silk tie,
impeccable hair and nails it was obvious he was exactly the type of
protector Maman had in mind for me. “His family is from French
nobility. He’s the richest man here, young and handsome too. He’s
married, but it is a marriage of convenience. You simply can’t ask
for anything more. For once stop acting like a heathen and act like
a proper lady. You’re slumping. Stand up straight, hold your head
up high, and smile more.” Her nudge prompted me to stand up
straight and widen my already fake smile.

My body tensed. No. My plan had
been to hide and spend the rest of the night on the balcony, but
now I would actually have to socialize and politely refuse a
possible offer. I had to listen to Bade and Erzulie.
I do have a choice.
I do have a choice.
I repeated those words over and over in my head as I walked
towards Monsieur Edmond.
I do have a choice. I do have a choice.

“
Monsieur Edmond, may I present
my lovely daughter, Cecile Antoinette Fanchon LaNuit.”

I felt embarrassed as Monsieur Edmond’s
cool blue eyes appraised me carefully from head to toe and took in
every inch of my face and body. He let a low sigh of approval and
his pink bow shaped lips formed an arrogant smirk. Suddenly and for
no rational reason whatsoever I had an overwhelming urge to run
away. “Exquisite,” he said, as he took my gloved hand and gave it a
long dramatic kiss that seemed to linger forever.

I smiled innocently and batted my
eyelashes, all the while thinking what I could possibly do to get
out of the situation. “Thank you,” I said coyly just like I had
been taught by Maman.

“
Shall we?” He extended
his arm for me to take.

I glanced over at Maman and whatever
courage I had quickly vanished and turned into fear. I smiled some
more and took his arm. Round and round we spun on the dance floor.
Around me muffled voices laughed and couples became dark
shadows.

Monsieur Edmond looked deep into my
eyes. “Tell me, Cecile, what is it that makes you
happy?”

I wanted to tell the truth. I wanted to
say dancing in Congo Square, speaking to the loa, drinking
absinthe, eating too many sweet pralines, and arguing with Antoine
made me extremely happy- but alas that wasn’t a really respectable
response. “I…”

“
You?”

I could see Maman carefully watching us
from the corner of the ballroom and anxiety washed over me.
“Playing the harp, Monsieur Edmond.” It was such a lie. I hated
playing the harp, but I was forced to take lessons because every
prospective placée knew how to play a musical instrument. It was
supposedly part of our charm.

“
How charming.” He smiled
approvingly. “You must play for me sometime.”

“
Yes. Nothing would please
me more than playing the harp for you.” Lie.

“
Do you like the opera?”
he asked.

“
Oui
, Monsieur. New Orleans has the best
houses in the entire country.” Truth.

He scoffed. “They’re nothing compared
to the houses of France.”

“
Perhaps, but they are
unique in their own way.”

He laughed. “Oh, sweet Cecile, your
innocence is endearing.”

I felt like smacking him, but I kept
on smiling.

“
How old are you?” he
asked.

“
Seventeen, Monsieur.
You?”

“
Twenty-four.”

“
Do you enjoy
bird-
watching?”

“
I’ve never been,
Monsieur.” How boring.

“
Hmm. I must take you
bird-
watching sometime.”

“
Nothing would please me
more, Monsieur.” Another lie.

I smiled, fluttered my lashes
some more and prayed that the waltz would end
already
, but
it didn’t. We spun around the dance floor for what felt like
eternity. Edmond kept asking me questions about myself and I felt
as if I were at an interview rather than a ball.

I carefully scanned each answer
before I responded. I gave him
generic happy answers. The type of answers
he wanted to hear. The type of answers a proper lady was supposed
to give. The type of answers that I knew would make him feel
comfortable. Every time I replied I sounded like a stiff imposter
rather than myself, and I wondered if I would have to spend the
rest of my life acting like a stiff imposter for the sake of
security.

An icy wind swept through the ballroom and
sent shivers down my spine. “Run, Cecile! If you don’t follow the
path you’re meant to follow it will never end well, because you
won’t ever love him!” My body went rigid as I took in Bade’s words
but Edmond didn’t seem to notice my distress.

“
You’re absolutely
stunning, Cecile. I find you quite charming as well.” He smiled
widely and flashed me a pair of pearly white teeth. “Would you do
the honor of joining me for a glass of champagne on the balcony?”
he asked as soon as the waltz ended.

I wanted to say no and run, but
I caught sight of Maman smiling. She gave me an encouraging nod and
no suddenly came out as, “
Oui.”

We sipped champagne on the balcony, where
Edmond spoke about France and his fondness for hunting, fencing,
and his family’s vast fortune. I listened, occasionally nodded and
asked him random questions to show that I was very interested while
in reality I was thinking about Congo Square and caramel
pralines.

“
Have you ever been to
France?” he asked.

“
Oui,
I spent a summer studying in Paris.
It’s a wonderful city but it doesn’t compare to the magnificence of
New Orleans.” Truth.

He smirked and his eyes widened as if I
had said something absolutely ridiculous. “This city is full of
thieves, savages, and the horribly unrefined. It’s an
abomination.”

I wanted ask,
then why are you
here?
But
instead I said, “I’m sure you’ll find that despite its problems the
city has more spirit than anywhere else in the entire country. The
opera, the theatre, and Congo Square! The spirits are alive and
well; and the food, the glorious food! And it’s the only Southern
state where
gens de couleur libres
can own property…” I stopped speaking when
my eyes fell on his unimpressed expression.

He laughed sarcastically. “Spirit? You
refer to human bondage, the inability to marry beyond one’s race,
and constant divisions ‘spirit’?”

“
Every place has its
problems, Monsieur,” I said softly.

He scoffed. “Not as bad as this
disaster.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to his
question so I kept quiet and stared ahead at the city that
stretched out so beautifully before us and tried to think of
another topic in order to avoid an argument. placées weren’t ever
supposed to get upset, so I bit my tongue.

He placed his arm around me and
brought his lips to my ear. “Cecile, these streets are filthy, vile
and a threat to a woman so refined and beautiful as
yourself,
non
?
Every day is a struggle. Most are bound by illiteracy, poverty, and
slavery. Even when they say “you’re free” we both know it’s a lie.
That’s not what you want for your children, is it? I have no
illusions when it comes to love- maybe we’ll grow to love one
another and maybe we won’t- but that doesn’t matter. What matters
is I can offer you protection and security in return for your
charming company. Any children you have will never have to worry
about being victims to this mess,” he said, as he dramatically
waved his hand over the balcony. “Where there is vast wealth there
is power,
non
?
Everyone understands that.”

My body tensed at his words and my
shoulders slumped as if a heavy weight had been placed on them. I
glanced at the city’s rooftops and then looked down at its
dimly-lit, muddy streets. I closed my eyes and took in the random
familiar sounds I loved so much, such as the voices of passionate
young Creole men engaging in duels, shrill screams, drunken
laughter, haunting violins playing into the night, and every so
often the wild howl of a distant wolf. Despite my undying love for
the city, I knew that the rich lived in luxury while the poor
suffered, struggled and fought day and night just to make ends,
meet regardless of their race or sex.

Besides poverty and oppression there was
the constant threat of disease and death, which was everywhere. The
city was notorious for its murders and other horrendously violent
crimes. It seemed as if every day children were trampled by horse
carts, bodies were fished out of the canal, swamps, and river. Wild
and savage cuttings, shootings, and other grisly crimes were a
normal part of day-to-day life, and on top of that there were a lot
of people who mysteriously died because they could not handle the
often brutal climate.

I was one of the lucky ones and at that
very second I knew I had to think like a rational adult and not a
spoiled child who danced with eccentric, moody spirits. Even if I
had spirit, how was that going to help anything? I had to think
about my future and the future of my children
realistically.

Rumors of war and revolution
were brewing in the air and every day more and more restrictions
were being placed on
gens de couleur libres.
Before my very eyes I saw our class
being stripped of our rights and liberties. The rest of the country
did not recognize us as an official class, and in its eyes we were
no different than the common uneducated slave. Only in Louisiana
was our position and positive contribution to society openly
acknowledged, even encouraged, but that was rapidly
changing.

I couldn’t make sense of why the
government wanted to oppress us since as a majority we were
flourishing as doctors, teachers, merchants, artisans, business and
property owners. More and more of us were quickly acquiring
education and skills that would ensure the security of our own
future and the futures of our children. But the more we rose the
more restrictive laws had started to become. The situation had
become so ugly that it was now a challenge to walk freely through
the city without fear, because even the most respected free person
of color could be whipped, fined, or imprisoned at the whim of a
white person.

For the most part the upper white class
respected us as long as we “knew our place” and never imagined
ourselves equal to them, while the lower classes feared us;
especially those who did not understand our privilege and wealth.
Those who despised and feared us the most were the poor white
immigrants flooding into New Orleans from other parts of the
country, as well as the slave class. They saw us as a threat and
found it unjust that we were thriving while they were struggling. I
could understand their frustrations, partly because poverty and
cruelty was rampant in the streets, but I could not understand
their hatred. Were we not all human? Did we not all have the same
basic needs?

I knew that as dramatic as Maman could be,
she was only trying to protect me from what appeared to be a very
uncertain and frankly very terrifying future. A match with Edmond
would ensure my security and the security of my children, who would
have the opportunity to be included in Edmond’s social circles, be
educated and live in France where there was no slavery and there
was much more racial equality. After taking all of these things
into consideration it was clear what I had to do, even if I didn’t
necessarily want to do it.

“
Please speak to Maman,” I
said. My eyes were still closed and my voice was faint and
strained.

“
Silly
Cecile! It won’t end well! This life
isn’t for you! He isn’t right for you. He’s greedy and possessive.
You need to be free. People need to be free! The city needs to be
free!”

I felt Edmond’s fingers gently
stroke my
bare back and his hot champagne-infused breath on the nape
of my neck. A dreadful chill ran down my spine and my hands
unwillingly shook. “Excellent,” he whispered. “I assure you you’ll
be very well taken care of.”