To Each Her Own (The Swirl Book 1)

by Sylvia Sinclair

  “Amen,” the congregation said together.

  Shasta was so stunned that nothing would come from her mouth, so she said it in her head instead. Amen.

  “You must extol, or praise enthusiastically, those who need the lesson. The devil hates the anointed, and that’s why he attacks families, because the word family means Father’s house, or patriarch or originator of the family. That’s why families take on the father’s last name, or surname. Surname is defined as a hereditary name common to all members of a family, as distinct from a given name. A given name is a first name. A surname is a family name. And with that name, many things come along with it, good and bad. Yes, there are curses that come with it as well.

  “Psalms 68:6, God can set the lonely in a family. By setting, the word means to set like you set a diamond into the metal of a ring. Set to go like a sprinter who is at the starting blocks. When a diamond falls out, its setting loses its worth. It’s not in position. Don’t let your family lose its worth. God can set them. The regeneration, key word generation, starts when you are saved, and that happens when the rejuvenation of the Holy Ghost breaks the curse.” He began to walk back and forth, energetically. “You need to pray in order for God to break generational curses. Curses, such as insanity, alcoholism, drug addiction, lust, drop-outs, hate, racism, all can be broken.” He began to shout. “By the blood of Jesus, there is a power to be able to break the yolk; the yolk of cancer, tumors, diabetes, divorce, babies out of wedlock, sexual abuse. Everything God has planted shall be uprooted in His name. There is a power in your surname. Say your surname, your father’s name, out loud.”

  “Gibson,” With her voice shaking, Shasta managed to say it loudly, along with the other names that were spoken, like Jones, Williams, Howard, Collins, Walker, and on and on.”

  Many members began to stand.

  Shasta stood.

  Pastor Weaver spoke in tongue and held his hands out, closing his eyes, and so did other members. He continued, “Lord, break every generational curse of the names spoken by these families. Glory to God,” he shouted.

  “Amen.” The many people yelled out the word.

  He continued, arms stretched out. “God has created you to be a victor, not a victim. Heal the family, because the prodigal son or the prodigal daughter is here today. They are no longer on their father’s lap, but they’re in his heart, and he is in theirs. The blood sees to that. Familial blood. This is an anointing to break the yolk, in the name of Jesus. Amen. And so it is.”

  Shasta, on her feet, moved, held her hands up and out, and looked over to her mother who looked back at her, winking.

  And they both began to cry.

  Chapter 17

  Evans, GA

  After the emotional church service, Shasta drove her car along the highway, following behind her mother’s new white BMW. They took the short drive to a local spot called Evans Diner, which was a place her mother promised had the best pecan waffles in the world.

  With her heart feeling softer and her head clearer, Shasta pressed the Call button and said, “Daddy.”

  The phone system dialed his number.

  Once the call was connected, she heard, “Hello?” His greeting wore a frown.

  She went right into saying what her heart told her to say. “Hi, Daddy. I just wanted to call. I know that as my father, and based upon generations before, I must honor where you have come from, and what has shaped your life, your opinions, and your beliefs. I don’t mean to be disrespectful. I think things do change and people do change, and when we know better we do better. I’m going to pray that all of this gets better, and that things shift. I love you, Daddy, and I’m sorry about yesterday.”

  “Really? Church did that to you?” His tone was edgy. “That’s well and good, but it sounds like you’re referring to me and what I think and do, not what you say and do. The question in my mind still is; what is your problem?”

  She gave a sigh. “Daddy, I don’t have one. I’ve been honoring your problem my entire life.”

  “Maybe. I wouldn’t call it a problem. I’d call it a choice. I do have a choice as to who I want to be around, and mate with. And so do you. But I see now that your decision to honor my choices has changed. Why? Because you met someone black?”

  Shasta’s mother turned at the corner, and so did Shasta. “I don’t think the question is why I am okay with getting to know a black person. I think the real question is, respectfully so, why do you hate black people so much?”

  “I don’t.”

  “But the mixing of races, Daddy. Why do you hate the mixing of races so much?”

  “White is white and black is black. The more the lines are muddied, the harder it will be to know who’s who. To identify with our own.”

  “Our own? We’re all our own.”

  He jumped right in. “We’re not. We are different races, creeds and colors. I prefer to date white women, and I’m proud of it. White is the majority in numbers and in social status. Why do you think so many black people prefer light skinned black people? Because they have more white in them, and that makes them feel superior.”

  Her mind spun with disbelief. “I can’t believe what you’re saying. You see white as better, but the way you’re acting, I don’t see that at all. Besides, there are far more white people who hate black people, than the other way around.”

  “It depends on where you live. But from what I’ve seen, don’t get it wrong. There are a whole hell of a lot of racist black people in the world.”

  “And a whole lot more white.”

  “And how do you know that, Shasta?”

  “If there are black people who hate white people, maybe it stems from what we did to them, keeping them as slaves, not treating them equally, taking away their rights. If you believe all of that was okay, then I’m sorry, but that makes you a racist.” She braced herself.

  He shouted. “I am not!”

  “You are.” She kept her tone the same.

  “I love all people. I just prefer not to mate with anyone who isn’t white. Period.”

  “Okay. Well in my opinion, that’s not love for anyone who isn’t white. That’s hate. And it’s fear. What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid. I’m informed.”

  “You’re imprisoned, is what you are, Daddy. I thought that by electing the first black president, which happened because of the younger generations, that we’d turned the page, but I see lately, not only by you but by so many other people, that race is still a deep fault-line in America. I was watching CNN last night, and one of the contributors said that black people are three times as likely as whites to be denied a mortgage. That the wealth gap between blacks and whites has nearly tripled, and that also, and this tears me up, black men are far more likely to be stopped, charged for crimes, and sentenced longer.”

  “And whose fault is all that? As far as mortgages, they don’t make enough or they have bad credit. Being charged for crimes, then don’t do the crime. When you do dumb things you pay the price.”

  Her voice now had volume as she was stopped at a light behind her mom. “What? It’s all of our faults! They said that even schools are more segregated than they were in the 1960’s. I think that the mindset we have of not wanting ‘those people’ in the neighborhood is sick, and it has to stop. We have to stop being scared when a black man with a hoodie walks by.”

  He actually gave a laugh. “Shasta, please. I’m sure that scares African American people too. If what we all wear makes us look suspicious, we need to think twice before entering a place of business with a hoodie over our heads at two in the morning.”

  “But as individuals, we can only question our own assumptions and ideals of privilege. We have to own and change them.” She proceeded on, following her mom. “Daddy, do you see other races as lower beings?”

  “I’ll just say that I’m racially aware.”

  “And where did that come from? I know Grandmother Hattie didn’t instill that into you and Uncle Todd.�
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  “No comment.”

  “No comment? Why not? Of course you need to comment, and come clean, talk about it. We’re finally talking about it.”

  “You come clean.”

  “Wow. Okay, if you won’t, then I guess I’ll have to assume that it must’ve been jokes in school, or perhaps somewhere else where you learned all of this hate. Were you bullied for some reason?”

  “No. But there were more black kids joking in school, teasing white kids than the other way around.”

  “So then you were teased. And if you were, why? Was it because you were tall for your age, smart, goofy, buck-toothed, bowlegged, what? It couldn’t have been because you’re white.”

  “Blacks and whites made racial jokes toward each other. All was fair.”

  “Like what? What were you called that made you so afraid of integrating? Were you called cracker, honky, ofay, peckerwood? What?” She actually had raised her shoulders in expectance of his reply.

  “Okay, Shasta. That’s enough. Just leave it at the fact that African Americans hate whites just as much, and some even hate themselves.”

  “And why would that be?”

  “They always see everything from a lens of being African American. So why can’t I see things through a lens of being white?”

  “Because, Daddy. We need to think in terms of all of our differences being a melting pot.”

  He waited. She could hear him breathing hard. “Okay, so let me ask you this. Where is our NAAWP? National Association for the Advancement of White People?”

  She was stunned, shaking her head while she drove. “Oh my God! Oh we have one alright. And it’s called the KKK.”

  “Well, whatever it’s called, we, some whites, see them through a racial lens, and they see themselves that way too, as soon as they step out into the world.”

  She spoke fast. “How do you know that? Did some black person tell you that? And if that’s so, like I said, it might be because of how whites treat them that makes them angry.”

  “And what makes you such a supporter of the rights of non-whites?”

  “I have observed and read, and taken a lot in. I read a book while I was in college called Why Black People Tend to Shout. It talked about the black experience. And if we don’t take the time to read about it, and learn about it, we’ll never be able to imagine what it’s like. Just as they will never know what it’s like for us if they don’t take the time to show understanding and forgive us for what our ancestors did many, many years ago.”

  He gave an odd laugh again. “Yeah, so you’re the expert all of a sudden, and that’s all well and good. All I’m saying is, just don’t mix, Shasta. Because if that happens, I promise you, every single time my grandchildren hit the streets, he or she will have to worry about how the world sees them for being black. Being seen as lower than, less than, a minority. I’m asking you; do you want that for your children?”

  Her mom turned down a side street, slowing down a bit. “Oh my goodness, Daddy. Let me tell you that I hope you change this racist, bigoted act, because if I ever do have black kids, you will never see them. With beliefs like you have, you’d be more detrimental to them than the streets.” She took a deep breath. “I cannot believe how deep this is for you. I mean you really see yourself as superior and them as inferior. And Daddy, it’s not a complex. It’s a reality. You have a superiority complex. The bottom line is that despising race-mixing is racist.”

  “It’s not.”

  “I say it is.” She added it all up in her head. “Basically you’re a separatist. You support separating groups of people from a larger body, meaning the majority, white, because of ethnicity, religion or gender. That’s what it means.”

  “I guess you did take a lot of African American history courses. But I, young lady, I have lived real life. I have a right to decide that I will not work with and live with anyone I don’t want to. Do not bring mixed kids into the world, Shasta.”

  She yelled again. “How many black customers or subscribers of yours made you rich? Huh? And how many black people did you have employed at Gibson Media? Out of tens of thousands of employees, how many, Daddy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m sure your only concern was not to violate Affirmative Action laws.”

  “You said that, not me.”

  “But I bet you didn’t have any blacks working close to you either.”

  “I did. It all depended on what type of person they were.”

  “Like the good blacks who act right and the bad blacks who what? Wear hoodies?”

  “Shasta, bottom line is, you have been disrespectful since the minute you came home. Don’t you forget, whatever you need to say, I am your father. I won’t have this. I’m fine with integration. All I’ve been saying is, I don’t want my daughter sleeping with someone who would produce mixed kids with her. You’re not supposed to. Your kids will be bullied for being interracial, their hair will be pulled, they’ll be called names like mutt. It’ll be more hurdles. You say you’re just seeing him, but soon he’ll be trying to marry you. Then the crap will get real. And if you do marry him, I won’t be at the wedding. I won’t integrate because you decide to live that life.”

  In her spinning head she tried to handle the word mutt. “No one said a thing about marriage. Dang! I would teach my kids to handle that, and would not categorize them, if that came to be. What you need to do is integrate your mind and then we can talk. Who I date, or marry, is none of your business, or your buddy Tyson Bain’s business.”

  “Oh really? Well, that reminds me: stop fucking Tyson Bain. You think I haven’t been able to guess why he told me. I saw how he looked at you when we’d be at their home in Atlanta for the holidays. I know how he is, and now I know how you are. Good grief, Shasta. You . . .”

  She could feel that something big was coming hard and fast. “I what Daddy?”

  “You’re already a nigger lover, attending the Academy of Negroes. Don’t be a slut, too!”

  “Oh no you didn’t!” Shasta wanted to scream as her mother pulled into a parking space. Shasta’s car was stopped smack-dab in the middle of the lot while she swallowed her father’s distasteful words, and listened.

  “You’ve had money. You didn’t need to sleep to the top. But as of now, your trust fund is hereby canceled. I’ll contact the trustee in the morning.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Fine, then do that. Maybe this is your payback for such hate. You take from me what you want. But the most racist people end up having to deal with their children marrying the very people they hate. And here you are. Be careful what you preach.”

  “Do what you want with this boy you met. But you need to always remember one thing; intermixing races is like breeding horses and donkeys, which donkeys, by the way, are African wild asses. Just because they procreate, doesn’t make the offspring a horse, or a donkey. It makes it a mule, a cross between a female horse and a male donkey.”

  Shasta drove past the front lot, and around to the back. “Oh Lord, what? My God, I’m really trying here! I wish I’d pushed back on this subject with you years ago. So you’re saying my kids would be mules?”

  “I have to go.”

  “Daddy, fine you go. And I’m going to say this: I’m sorry, but the way you’re talking makes you the jackass. Good fucking bye!”

  She expected him to hang up. He was quiet.

  “Oh yeah. And take that damn confederate flag down.”

  “I’ve been a member of Kappa Alpha for fifty years. That’s all it is.”

  “It is more than that. That flag is your kryptonite. It’s 2014, already. You’re now showing that you give the middle finger to civil rights. Taking it down would at least be an expression of God’s grace. If you even care about God’s grace.”

  He said slowly and calmly. “Take yours down.”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “Oh, yes. You do.”

  She pulled in a space,
and saw that her mom was calling. “You’re going to die alone in that big white house with your big white opinions of hatred, paying eight thousand a month, bitter from your choices.”

  “Fine with me. To each his own.”

  “Yeah, well, to each her own, too. Your own is white.”

  “Your own is black.”

  “Ramón is biracial.”

  “Are you done?”

  “With you, hell yes!” She hung up and turned off the ignition, heated.

  For the very first time in her life, Shasta used curse words to her father, and for the first time she hung up on her father. It felt wrong and it felt sinful. Suddenly, her mother walked up to the car smiling, and saying as Shasta opened the door. “Hurry up, darling. We really need to talk.”

  Chapter 18

  Evans, GA

  While sitting at a rear booth at Evans Diner, a small restaurant with a 1950’s décor and a jukebox that played oldies, Charlotte and Shasta said their Good to see yous, and I’ve missed yous, as the waitress took their orders, and then Charlotte excused herself to head to the ladies room.

  Shasta’s heart was still recovering from her conversation with her father. Her head hurt, and she felt drained.

  She took a long, cleansing breath and looked over at the large flat screen TV that played an episode of I Love Lucy, the one where Lucy and Ethel mash grapes with their feet at a winery. Shasta normally would’ve at least smiled, but she was too distracted from the throb. All that kept running around in her head was her own father calling her a nigger lover, claiming that he wouldn’t want black grandkids, and saying he’d make sure that she would no longer get her trust fund. And she believed him. The ten thousand a month she’d been receiving since she was twenty five would be history. As much as she would be able to live off of the salary she’d saved over the years, and the trust savings account, she hoped that would not happen.