by Tiana Laveen
The crowd leapt to their feet, beating the place with echoes of applause.
“It’s all a lie! Don’t believe it! I almost missed my blessing because I was still sipping the red Kool-Aid. Without Saint, I would not have had my two wonderful sons and brilliant, adorable daughter. Without this so called enemy, my alleged Crip,”—she pointed at him with a shaky finger—“I wouldn’t have the happiness that I am enjoying tonight! I can’t say I’d be unhappy, but I sure as hell would have never experienced a love like this! Saint is my man, and he just happens to be from a different ethnic background than me. Why does that make him my enemy?! He had never personally done anything to harm me, so why should he suffer? He didn’t try to lynch me or my friends and family. He never made me pick cotton! He never raped my great, great, great grandmother! He never sold me to the highest bidder. He never told me I couldn’t eat at a certain restaurant. He never said I have to sit on the back of the bus! He never instructed me to go to a certain water fountain because my skin is brown. He never burned a cross in my yard!
“He never turned a water hose on me! He never stopped me from getting an equal education! He never gave me a lower wage for equal or even harder work than my lighter or whiter co-worker. He never put a paper bag to my face to see if I could pass through a certain door, or get in a special sorority! He never told me I was black ’nd ugly! He never stole me from my native land! Saint doesn’t even own a ship…” Xenia burst out laughing, causing the applauding to turn into jeers of laughter as well. Her heart was pounding out of her chest; she’d become so emotional, so wrapped up, and she had to calm it down a bit.
“It’s true, you know?” she said with a grin. “This man was not out to get me…he was out to get me.”
Saint slowly rose to his feet, cast her a crooked grin and applauded, causing the crowd to whistle and clap right along with him. They stood there looking at each other for a short while, and then he reclaimed his seat. Xenia took a couple of seconds, then continued.
“My mother was the most influential person in my life.” She swallowed. “You see, my mother, in some ways, raised herself. My grandmother, who I adored, was a woman with issues that had their own issues, too. She was a product of abuse, and thus, my grandmother didn’t always see things as they truly were. She was a physically beautiful woman, and that was all she had in order to survive. She had a sixth grade education.” Xenia briefly closed her eyes as memories flooded her. “Even with all my grandmother’s problems, she saw my mother was in need. She tried to tell her not to do join the gangs, but my mother and her sister, as well as their two brothers, were suffering. They’d grown up watching the Black Panthers and wanted to be just like them. There was a lot of racial injustice going on in the world, there still is, but this was definitely a time frame when it was less hidden, more in your face.
“My mother joined the Bloods at the age of sixteen. She met my father two years later. Through it all, with all of the things she’d done and seen, she still kept her wits about her. You see, my mother demanded that my father marry her after a while. They had broken up several times, and would get back together, but she was tired of that. She loved my father very much.” Xenia smiled. “So, she said, the last time they broke up, that he could never come back to her unless he had a ring. And, that’s what he did.” Xenia nodded while she reflected. “Then, sooner rather than later, my mother became pregnant with twin girls. This was life changing for her. She completely changed her state of mind. She decided to get an honest job instead of doing what she was doing before, which were illegal activities to make money. She never sold her body, but she did just about everything else. My mother wasn’t proud about it and never pretended to be, but she said my sister and I gave her hope. You see, she’d finally have a family of her own.
“My mother didn’t know her father well; he was always in the streets and she was the eldest, stuck taking care of her brothers and sisters. She had half sisters and brothers, too. She never had a childhood, never knew what it felt like to not worry about money and having a roof over your head. So, she distanced herself from the gang, because she found a replacement—she found what she was really looking for all along, in her children. Not everyone is like that.” Xenia pointed out into the audience. “Some of you are in the gang by birthright. Because others told you that you were or your parents had a certain mentality. That’s my story, as well. Some of you are in this gang, this warped mindset, because you need to feel loved, and to belong—and you are afraid to leave it, because it’s all you’ve known.
“My mother attended every single one of her siblings’ funerals due to a gang related murder, except one sister. My aunt died of cancer, but we even speculate that she was so stressed out, it aided in her declining health. When my mother saw me and my brother doing the same things she’d done, she grew afraid. I didn’t listen to her warnings, just as she didn’t listen to her mother’s. You see, my father was gone…he’d abandoned us. So now, I, too, felt like I was shattered. I felt unloved, rejected. I was in a bad neighborhood, not even sure if I was going to live to see another day. There were bullet holes in our house. Not because anyone was necessarily aiming at us, but because that was commonplace violence. So, this is what I came from, ladies. At the last moment, and I can only thank God for this, I found my way out.” She looked up at the ceiling and raised her hands in praise, waving them in the air, as she heard applause. Her eyes filled with thankful tears.
“I praise God for releasing me from that, because when I tell you I was in deep, I was in deep. You are never normal after you see the sort of things I’ve witnessed.” She paused, a slight smile on her face as she glanced at the ground, then back up at her attentive audience. “…Whatever normal is. But, a part of you, the innocent little child within, can sometimes save you, remind you of how it felt to be blameless and free. Because of my mother, I never had to worry about getting a home-cooked meal. She made sure my sister, brother and I were clean and clothed, too. We didn’t always have the name brand clothing, but we looked nice…and she’d do our hair. She did our hair so well, matter of fact, people at school asked where we were going to get it done. You see, my mother went to cosmetology school and even had her own beauty salon at one point. She was making it happen, with or without my father. He left, but she stepped up to the plate. A woman can’t be a father, but when that man leaves, she can pick up the slack to the best of her ability.
“That’s what my mother did, and she encouraged me to be the best Xenia I could be. She asked me, ‘Xenia, what the hell are you going to do with your life? Are you gonna keep running around in these streets until you’re dead?’ I’d just look at her and roll my eyes and one day, she snatched me clear off the ground. My mother was strong back then…” She giggled, causing a light rumble of laughter in the audience.
“I was a skinny waif, but I was strong too…yet I knew better to try to swing on my mama. She would have knocked me out.” More laughter from the crowd—music to her ears. “But, she looked me in the eye and for the first time in years, I saw my mother cry. Tears just poured down her face, and my heart broke. I knew I was the cause of it. She said to me, ‘Xenia, you are good at so many things. I wish you saw the good in you that I see.’ And then, she threw me down, walked away and slammed her bedroom door. I sat there for a long while… The next day, I decided that instead of officially joining the Bloods, as I was supposed to, I was going to go to broadcasting school. You see, I loved listening to the radio, I loved music, you know? But what I loved about listening to the radio the most were the sensual voices that would come over the airwaves for song dedications. I wanted to experience that, to know what it felt like to tell the world that two people were madly in love and that one particular song made them feel as if they were together, though distance was currently between them.
“I’d always been told I had a nice voice. I used to hate my voice, because it was kinda deep for a girl, and it has a rasp to it, like I’ve been smoking.” She chuckled. “Bu
t, as I got older, I discovered the fellas loved it, and I thought, maybe that’s my ticket out of here? Grandma used her looks to get paid. Mama used her hands. Maybe, just maybe, I could use my voice? So, I did. I took a chance and went to broadcasting school and not only did I love it, I excelled! I thought at that time, life could get no better. I graduated, got a job right off the bat and then, like clockwork; the new jobs kept coming until I had my very own syndicated show.
“I thought, well, I’m going to help the community now. I’m going to give back. I knew what it was like to not get the love you were looking for. Mama couldn’t give it to me. She couldn’t suddenly morph into my father, you see? I was a little black girl with no protection. I was in a single parent home where at times thieves would get inside our domain and rob my mother. Drug addiction was running rampant, and these people would come in the house, alarm system or not, and I’d literally be in my bed shaking like a leaf as I watched shadows in the living room, and hear things being turned over. My mother got a gun, and had to pull it on two intruders. She hated that. She didn’t want to keep guns anymore after she decided to not be active with the Bloods anymore, but she had to consider our protection. Sometimes a mother has to do what a mother has to do…” She shot a hard, cold stare at Saint before returning her focus to the crowd.
“It was a hard time for me, but there were good times, too. Like developing into a young lady, meeting boys and dating.” She grinned. “I was popular in school, despite my affiliations. I was a B average student, A’s in Math, and I enjoyed school very much. I got a lot of attention, so I believed I would have no problem finding a husband when I was ready to settle down. So, after broadcasting school and my own show, I felt like I was on my way. Well, I was wrong. Yeah, I met a lot of men, Queens. Some were celebrities, I’ve dated a few… Most were just your ordinary Joe. I had pulled myself out of some mess and turned my mush into magnificence, but…something still wasn’t connecting; something was missing! I went from one relationship to the next, over and over and over! It was exhausting. I’d try to make them work, but they never did! I had long term relationships, and then, I’d eventually have to pull the plug because whoever I was with, well…” She shrugged. “I’d realize it wasn’t going anywhere.
“I looked at myself and thought, ‘Xenia, you are famous! You have a thriving career, your own home, a cute dog, you work out, you can cook, you take care of yourself, you don’t look half bad, your teeth are clean.” This last statement caused some chuckling. “I had to ask myself, What is it about me that is causing this situation?! Why am I attracting the same man, just with a different face? The lying, cheating or just plain commitment-phobe… It went on and on. I never felt like I needed a man, but I did want companionship. I also wanted to get married and have a family. I wanted what I didn’t have, just like my mother, and her mother, too. It seemed as if it were some sort of family curse.
“And you know what, Queens? That’s what our mentality, as black women, is kind of like. Not only do we suffer with Blackistan gang warfare, but we are suffering from an emotional curse placed upon us by society as a whole, due to us being black and female. It’s not a real curse, although we have it in our minds. But then, I must ask you, is a real curse or one that is only in your mind any different?” She paused. “Probably not. For they have the same lasting effects. What we believe,” she said pointing two fingers at herself as she stared out into the audience, “is what we become. We curse ourselves, Queens. We curse ourselves when we allow others to dictate what we can and cannot do.
“When we are told that we are worthless and we believe it, we curse ourselves. When we are told we must only date black men and then we follow suit, lessening our possibilities to find a truly compatible mate, we curse ourselves, Goddesses. When we allow our worth to be dictated by another person, we curse ourselves, women. There is truly a gang war going on, and some of it is completely internal. One side of us tells us, ‘No, no, don’t do this! Listen to all the naysayers!’ The other side screams, ‘Take a chance! Live your life!’ And…it becomes a battle. Will we succumb to what is comfortable because it is all we know? Will you stay a Blood or a Crip because that is what society expects of you? Will you destroy yourself,” she said, pointing out into the audience, “to make someone else feel more comfortable? Will you do that? Or, did you step away, did you take a leap of faith, did you declare yourself un-cursed, did you leave the gang, throw down your colors and reject the notion that you are any less down for the cause, simply because you choose to edify yourself with all that God has available to you?! God didn’t create only poppies and tulips. He created roses, daffodils, petunias, daises, irises, lilies, carnations, and the list is endless! Why are you not allowed to sniff and smell those, too? Why can’t you enjoy them as well?! Saint is a hybrid rose.”
People clapped and giggled.
“And he is the perfect one for me.” She jabbed herself in the chest with her index finger. “Had I only stuck with hyacinth I would have never known how sweet and wonderful the garden could truly be! The world, ladies, is your garden. Many of you ventured out and saw the vast array of possibilities. They are all beautiful in their own right. Some of you, however, are here tonight, because you are still clinging to that one, lonely, withered rose.” She didn’t miss how some women in the audience dabbed at their eyes with a tissue, and lowered their heads.
“That rose is dead. Now, you can keep going to the same garden, looking for a replacement, and that is your prerogative, or you can look a bit beyond the horizon, and see that there are many choices to chose from, and what is so amazing is, those flowers want you to pluck them from the ground and give them a chance to make you smile. Won’t you stop and smell the yellow roses? The pink ones and the orange ones, too? Won’t you push your fears aside, refusing to be branded, labeled and controlled? As I said, and I want to drive this point home, I was still in a gang, and didn’t even know it!
“Some of you are married to Rainbeaus, but still in a gang, too! You remain in the gang when you co-sign racist antics. You remain in the gang when you say, ‘I’ll marry a Rainbeau but won’t have his children because of possible backlash from outsiders.’ You remain in the gang when you say, ‘I am only married to a Rainbeau because black men rejected me or turned their backs on me!’ That flower you plucked deserves to know that you chose it because you found it beautiful! Not because all the black roses were sold out at the shop or withered from your touch!”
Saint smiled sadly and crossed his ankles as he nodded in agreement.
“Ladies, you remain in the gang when you deny to others that you’ve always been attracted to Rainbeaus. So, I’m done lying, too. That half Mexican boy with the mom that made the delicious strawberry cookies? Yeah, well, that was my first kiss. I was in the fifth grade, and he asked me for a kiss so I leaned over and kissed that cute little guy on the mouth.” People burst out laughing. “I did it, and I liked it.” This caused even more laughter. “I didn’t dare tell anyone though, and the sad part is that if he were a little black boy, I probably would have gone around showing off to everyone.
“Your first kiss was a big deal to me at that age. But because he wasn’t the right race, I didn’t want anyone to know…” She was quiet for a moment or two, reliving the shame, and now feeling mortified at her erstwhile embarrassed. “And, he liked me, too. I was not raised to hate other races, but in the environment I was in, some of it unfortunately came with the territory. Blacks looked down on Mexicans and vice versa. A lot of Mexicans attended my elementary school, and this particular one, Marco Torres, was a real cutie! I couldn’t help myself, ladies!”
Saint leapt to his feet and snatched his jacket closed, adjusted his cufflinks as if he was going to an important meeting. He showcased a nasty, evil sneer, no doubt gearing up for something.
“Sit…down!” Xenia barked, causing a ruckus. She tried her damnedest to keep her upper lip from jumping, for if she let loose, she’d be rolling with laughter. She didn’t want th
e tyrant encouraged. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to just let me get through this without talking, Saint!”
“You shouldn’t have said what you said, then!” he screamed out as loud as he could, ensuring he was heard. The crowd was really going now.
“Last I checked, Mr. Aknaten, I was grown, and I can say whatever the heck I want to say.” She placed her hand on her hip and rolled her neck. “Now, here you go again. Whether we are at home with friends, or in a public venue like this, you are incapable of controlling yourself.” She egged him on, eager for the interaction. “You did this to me the first time, too. It’s never enough, is it? Sit down before I make you sit down. Ain’t nobody scared of you.”
The audience lit up in laughter when a spotlight was placed on Saint as he pointed an accusatory finger at her.
“Oh, really? Well, I object to this whole thing!”
More laughter ensued; even Lawrence and Donna were turning red and cracking up.
“What do you mean, you object? There is no judge and jury here. Boy bye!”
“This isn’t right, Xenia! You told me I was your first and only Rainbeau!”
Hysteria ruled the space as he pretended to be angry, his feelings crushed.
“Well, I lied!” She laughed loudly, playfully putting him on. “Someone hand him a mic, please. It is obvious he is determined to have his say.” The host immediately raced to the back while two stagehands got Saint situated. Before anyone could stop him, he made his way to the stage. Every single woman in the audience jumped to their feet and burst out in applause as he drew closer to Xenia.