Coffee Will Make You Black

by April Sinclair

  Mrs. Mathews cleared her throat. I knew Grandma’s dig had gotten to her.

  “So far we’ve been able to keep the lowlife out.” Mrs. Mathews raised her eyebrows. “I pray that we can continue to hold the line.”

  Grandma cut her eyes at Mrs. Mathews. I knew that she wanted to read her chapter and verse, but she had to be polite since we were in the church.

  “Kevin, baby, come help Grandma, I need somebody strong with muscles to carry the punch bowl to the kitchen.”

  Kevin jumped up and made a muscle like Popeye and followed Grandma to the main table.

  “Mother Dickens, your sweet-potato pie is screamin’!” A woman in a fur stole shouted from across the room. “You put your foot in it!” she added.

  “Thanks, Sister Little.” Grandma beamed.

  Telling a cook she’d put her foot in a dish was a very high compliment.

  “I see Mrs. Little still looks and sounds like a Baptist,” Mrs. Mathews said, sighing.

  Mama nodded.

  “Stevie, do you have a boyfriend?”

  “Not really, Terri, do you?”

  “Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

  I glanced over at Mama. “I’m not allowed to date until I’m sixteen. Let’s see, I’ve got eleven months, one week and how many days, Mama?”

  “Now, Jean Eloise is just being silly, she’s not really all that boy-minded. I’m thankful for that. I’d hate to have a daughter who was boy crazy.”

  “Well, Terri Ann isn’t boy crazy, I mean she likes boys, which is natural at fifteen.”

  Mama cleared her throat, “Well, Jean Eloise likes boys, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

  “Otherwise.” The word hung in the air like laundry with too much starch in it, I thought.

  “Your Jean gives every indication of being normal. I think it goes without saying that we both want the best for our daughters.”

  I let out a breath after being pronounced normal.

  “I’ve always been impressed with Stevie, ever since she was a little girl,” Mrs. Mathews continued. “I was particular about who my children associated with from day one. That’s why I’m about to go out on a limb now.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Mathews. I’m just sorry that Jean Eloise has never made another close friend that came up to Terri.”

  I frowned at Mama.

  “Please call me Regina. After all these years we should be on a first-name basis.”

  “And call me Evelyn. Anyway, Regina, you were saying, about going out on a limb?”

  “Oh, yes, you see, it’s so important that young people don’t get mixed up with the wrong crowd.”

  “And these days it’s more important than ever,” Mama added.

  “Yes, well, to make a long story short, some of the girls in our area have formed a club …”

  “It’s called Charisma,” Terri interrupted.

  “Yes, well, the girls are meeting to plan the first get-together, and I don’t see why Stevie couldn’t be included.”

  Mama was grinning and nodding and Terri was smiling. Hey, maybe we could be tight again.

  “Will the get-togethers be coed?” Mama asked.

  “Yes, Evelyn, but the young men are all gentlemen. And there is always adult supervision. These are college-bound young people, all from good homes.”

  “Is Reggie going to be at the get-together?” I asked.

  “Of course.” Terri winked.

  “Sounds good to me.” I winked back.

  “Regina, I like the situation that you’ve described. Who knows, I might just be willing to lower the dating age, under the right circumstances.”

  “Well then, it’s set,” Mrs. Mathews said, reaching for her handbag.

  The program was about to start. A large woman in a flowery dress was calling for everyone’s attention.

  “You remember Roland Anderson, don’t you, Terri?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he was always on the honor roll, wore glasses.”

  “We’ve gotten to be friends.”

  “Well, the whole family’s gone militant. Roland and his sisters and brother don’t even come to church anymore,” Mama whispered.

  “Roland just loaned me The Autobiography of Malcolm X.”

  Mrs. Mathews shook her head, “And they used to be such fine people.”

  “Well, all good things must end. Stevie, Terri Ann will be giving you a call,” she added.

  “Cool,” I said, smiling. “I’ll walk you all to the door.”

  I stood on the church steps, waving goodbye and watching Terri and her mother pushing against the wind to get to their big, shiny car.

  “Come on, Terri Ann, let’s get out of here before dark. This is Boogaville, remember.”

  I could have sworn I heard Terri say, “I sure hope she doesn’t tell anybody her father is a janitor.” Or did the wind distort her words?

  I stared at the setting sun. My stomach was in knots as I watched it change colors.

  It was Sunday afternoon, and me and Mama were in the kitchen. I was washing greens in the sink and Mama was cutting up a chicken and listening to church services on the radio. The only music that could be played in our house on Sundays was gospel. “I’d Trade a Lifetime for Just One Day in Paradise,” Mama sang along with the tenor on the radio. She would listen to Baptist services all afternoon, even though she was a Methodist. The singing and the preaching were powerful enough to make a body want to know the Lord.

  David walked into the kitchen and headed for the refrigerator. He’d shot up recently. He was only thirteen, but he was taller than me and Mama. He thought he was cute, too, even called himself liking this silly girl named Antonia Wilson. Mama said David must be smelling himself.

  “Jean, I ran into Carla buying a hoagie and I said, ‘Hey, baby, what’s happenin’?’ And she said, ‘Tell Stevie, I got it!’ I asked her, ‘Got what?’ She said, ‘Nigger, just tell her what I said, she’ll know.’”

  “Oh,” I said, letting out a sigh of relief.

  “What did Carla get?” Mama asked suspiciously.

  “Nothing, Mama.” I cut my eyes at David for not telling me in private.

  “Humph,” Mama grunted, “you’re not fooling me. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

  “Later, y’all,” David said, after gulping down a glass of milk and grabbing a handful of cookies.

  I dumped the wet greens into a big pot and began filling it with water.

  “Jean, you know, this might be a good time for you to inch away from Carla.”

  “What are you talking about, Mama?”

  Mama was shaking the breasts in a brown paper bag. Some of the flour was escaping and settling on her nose.

  “Get rid of her, Jean Eloise!” Mama said, as cold as a gangster. “Carla was never friendship material, let alone best-friend material.” Mama shook the chicken hard. “It’s time to call a spade a spade.”

  I felt myself getting hot. I faced Mama with my arms folded and my mouth stuck out. “Mama, will you stop trying to run my life? Carla is my best friend and that’s all there is to it.”

  “Look, Jean, it was one thing when you were younger, but you’re in high school now. You’re fifteen, you’ll be sixteen next year. It’s time to cut Carla loose.”

  “It’s time to cut you loose,” I mumbled.

  “What did you say?” Mama shouted with her hand raised. “Say it again so that I can slap you!”

  “I was talking to myself.”

  Mama threw the chicken breast into the pan of hot oil. She jumped back to avoid the splattering grease. “One day, maybe you’ll realize who your real best friend is. I’m the best friend you will ever have.”

  “Mama, how come you hate Carla?” I asked angrily.

  “I don’t hate Carla. I’ve always been cordial. Besides, I don’t hate anybody. You know that I’m a Christian. It’s just that you’re at an age now where it matters who your friends are. You lie down with dogs, you should expect to get up with fleas. Who knows what kind of
doors will open up for you if you get in with the right crowd. What do you need with somebody like Carla dragging you down for?” Mama set the legs and thighs in the pan.

  “Especially now that you’ve got Charisma,” she continued.

  I stirred the pot of greens. “Mama, the club has nothing to do with my friendship with Carla, unless she wants to join.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” Mama said, shaking the chicken wings in the bag. “They wouldn’t let Carla join Charisma in a million years. You’re only getting in by the skin of your teeth, you know.”

  I remembered Terri’s remark about Daddy being a janitor. I wondered why she hadn’t called yet, and if she ever would. The lump in my throat felt as big as the piece of salt pork floating in the greens.

  Mama had called me to the phone and whispered excitedly, “It’s Terri!” I had almost given up on her. It had been two weeks. I took the phone back to the ironing board in the dining room so Mama wouldn’t be breathing down my neck.

  “Guess what, Stevie? This is so cool you won’t believe it.” Terri sounded happy.

  “What, Terri? You met somebody fine?”

  “No, Stevie, but I’m working on it.”

  “I can’t guess, just tell me.”

  “Okay, we all came up with this really cool idea. Charisma’s having a party a week from this Saturday. Are you free?”

  “Sure. Sounds good.” I held the phone under one ear while I pressed Kevin’s shirt.

  “Now, here’s the super-cool part. Okay, there’s this one girl, Roberta, who’s started wearing her hair in a natural. Anyway, none of the girls in Charisma have afros.”

  “Is it a rule?”

  “You just don’t do it in Charisma, okay? Anyway, this one girl, Beverly, has a brother, Alonzo.… Anyway, Beverly had this really cool idea that nobody should ask Roberta to dance on accounta her hair. Alonzo told the guys and they are all for it. Roberta won’t know why everybody’s avoiding her like dog mange. It’ll be fun to see how long it takes for her to figure it out. See, Stevie, isn’t it going to be cool?”

  I sat stunned. This was the stupidest thing I’d heard in a long time. I was almost burning a hole in Kevin’s cowboy shirt. I set the iron upright. I decided to think before I spoke. I didn’t know if cussing Terri out was the right thing to do. I found my voice.

  “Terri, I can’t understand why anyone would want to do something like that to somebody. I mean, what do you all have against this Roberta?”

  “We don’t have anything against Roberta, she’s just out of step with Charisma, that’s all.”

  I folded Kevin’s shirt. “Don’t you think Roberta’s feelings will be hurt?”

  “I don’t believe you, Stevie. It’s only a joke!”

  “I know, Terri, but why put somebody down for wearing her hair in a natural?”

  “Stevie, Charisma is a social club, not the damn Peace Corps!”

  “I know that Terri, but still.”

  “Stevie, this is nothing, you should see the dirt they do in sororities and fraternities. You need to talk to my cousin.”

  “What did Reggie have to say about your little plan?”

  “Nothing, he was cool with it.”

  “Oh.”

  “Stevie, let’s talk later. I’ve gotta run, I told Beverly I’d go shopping with her out to Evergreen Plaza. Stevie, think about getting a perm. You won’t have to worry about your hair going back in the rain or when you go swimming. Besides, everybody in Charisma has a perm.”

  chapter 17

  Mama walked into my bedroom grinning, carrying a brown paper bag. I was at my desk doing homework.

  “I got you something, baby.”

  “What?” I asked, surprised. It wasn’t my birthday, or Christmas.

  Mama shoved the bag under my nose.

  I stared at the small tubes.

  “Toothpaste samples?” I couldn’t hide my disappointment.

  “No, silly, bleaching creams. I got them for free from a teller at the bank. You’ve heard me speak of Ivy, we eat lunch together. Anyway, her brother works at a company that manufactures these, and he gets free samples.”

  “But, Mama, you remember how that bleaching cream burned Aunt Sheila’s face that time. She still has scars. I’m not going to have people pointing at me and whispering the name of some bleaching cream.”

  “Look, baby, this is some new, improved stuff. It’s different from that mess your Aunt Sheila used on her skin.” Mama reached into the bag and pulled out a tube. “Ivy’s been using this and I swear she’s two shades lighter!”

  “Mama, being two shades lighter doesn’t peel my paint. I’m happy with my color. If color means so much to you, why don’t you use them?”

  Mama sighed, “My life is behind me. You’ve got your life in front of you.”

  “Oh, Mama, please, you’re not even forty yet.”

  I turned back to my geometry problems.

  Mama stood over my shoulder. “Jean Eloise, you can’t just think of yourself, you have to see yourself the way others see you. You’ve already got a strike against you with Charisma. You’re from the wrong side of the tracks. You can’t afford to be too dark on top of it.”

  “Mama, where have you been? Don’t you know that black is beautiful?”

  “I know that black is supposed to be beautiful, but you use these bleaching creams, just in case.”

  I looked up from the angle I was drawing. “Just in case what, Mama?”

  “Just in case it’s a fad and people go back to thinking the way they’ve always thought. Don’t fool yourself. Deep down, black men are still color-struck.”

  “Some black men, Mama, not all.”

  “I bet the boys connected to Charisma are.”

  “Look, Mama, at this point, I can take Terri and the club or leave them. After what they said outside the church, and after hearing how they plan to treat this girl named Roberta.”

  Mama sat down on my unmade bed. She rubbed her hands nervously against her housedress. “What are you talking about? What did they say?”

  “Mrs. Mathews told Terri they’d better get in before dark, because this was Boogaville. And Terri said to her mother that she hoped that I didn’t tell anybody that Daddy is a janitor.”

  Mama hesitated for a moment. She had a sad look in her eyes. “Jean, you’ve got to act just as important as they do. Don’t let where you come from, or what your father does hold you back.”

  “Mama, I don’t want to act important, I just want to be myself. Besides, you don’t understand. The club members got together and decided that no boy would ask this girl named Roberta to dance, just ’cause she’s wearing her hair natural. Everybody has agreed behind her back to ice her. It’s their idea of a joke.”

  “Well you know how I feel about the natural, but I don’t agree with that. They should just be up front with the girl. Tell Roberta to straighten her hair or get out of Charisma.”

  I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Oh, Mama, what they’re planning to do is just plain cold-blooded and it shows zero pride.”

  “Jean, I’m not condoning it, but who are you to talk about pride? Your best friend is Carla Perkins. What is she going to do for the race but have a bunch of babies on ADC?”

  “Mama, you don’t know that.”

  “Isn’t her sister Marla pregnant again? Or is she just fat?”

  “You mean Sharla?”

  “One of them.”

  “Yeah, she is, but she’s getting married.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Mama, I’d rather be friends with a bona fide sister like Carla than a snob like Terri any day. Me and Carla will be friends to the end.”

  “It’ll be a dead end,” Mama sighed. “If your father had spent half as much time studying as he did sitting in a tavern or at the bowling alley, he wouldn’t be stuck in that dead-end job now. He’d have gotten promoted. Your father’s problem is he makes the wrong choices.”

  Yeah, he married you
, I thought. “Mama, you don’t understand about the System and you don’t understand about Charisma. I was making the wrong choice when I considered joining that stupid club.”

  Mama stood up, “How can you say that about Charisma? You need Charisma!”

  “Mama, I don’t want any part of Charisma any more than I want any part of these bleaching creams. And besides, they won’t want me in Charisma because I’ll be wearing my hair in an afro.”

  “An afro!”

  “Yes, an afro.”

  “You’re not going around here looking like a Ubangi!”

  “Mama, it’s my hair!”

  “Well, I’ll tell you one thing, I’m not paying for you to keep it up.”

  “It costs a lot less than a perm or even a press and curl, for that matter.”

  “I don’t care if it cost ten cents, I’m still not paying for it!”

  “Fine, I’ll pay for it out of my allowance.”

  “If you want to throw your money away, Jean Eloise, and if you don’t want to take advantage of opportunities to better yourself, then it’s no skin off my nose. You deserve to end up a nobody, just like your father!”

  I slammed my protractor down and stood up and faced Mama. “I’d rather end up like him than …”

  “Than what? Say it so that I can knock you into next week.”

  “I’d rather end up like him than like you,” I said clearly, looking Mama in the eye.

  Mama slapped the side of my face, shaking tears from my eyes. I sat down on my bed and held my stinging cheek. I wanted Mama to take her bleaching creams and get out of my room. The hell with Terri and the club!

  “If you plan on going around looking like a boogabear, Jean Eloise, then I’m through.” Mama grabbed the paper bag and headed for the door. “I’m through, do you hear me?” She shouted from the hallway.

  “Is that a promise?”

  Mama let out a loud sigh. “And to think we used to be so close.”

  I could’ve said the same thing about Terri.

  The barber finished trimming my ’fro, and sprayed Afro Sheen on it. He turned the chair around and I admired my reflection. My natural was big and bouncy, I imagined myself on a BLACK IS BEAUTIFUL poster. The girl in the mirror looked like somebody I wanted to get to know.