Antebellum

  “And if a person is a racist?”

  “Then they need to stay away from me. You know, it’s crazy since the new music leaked how many people act offended by my lyrics. When I was talkin’ ’bout shootin’ other black folk in the head, nobody cared. I talk about killin’ racists in one song and all of a sudden I’m a hatemonger and a terrorist. White folks is somethin’ else, man.”

  Phil made an innocent face at me. “Well, I’m white, Moses...”

  “Then you somethin’ else, Phil.”

  We shared a laugh, while the audience remained tense.

  “No, really Moses, come on. You’ve gotta admit that some of these new lyrics are problematic.” He shuffled more sheets and started to read again.

  I am the insurrectionist

  I stay smacking in sense

  And fighting against

  This white power

  And this black ignorance

  “Honestly, Moses, what white power are you talking about? This isn’t the sixties anymore.”

  “Phil, if you gotta ask, then that’s all the inspiration I need to keep making music.”

  “And look, here, at this one,” he continued.

  If you’re offended by my obvious spite

  Then I suggest

  you go upstairs and turn on the light

  and if it just so happens

  that your skin is white

  then I can understand why this music

  may cause you fright

  I guess that

  Symbolically I’m lookin’ you in the face

  And hocking up mucus and spitting it

  In the name of my race

  But you can’t honestly tell me your place

  In history’s space

  Doesn’t justify the spit on your face

  “Come on, Moses! You’re talking about spitting in my face, here! How am I not supposed to take offense to that?”

  “First of all, I said symbolically.”

  “Oh yes, that changes everything.”

  “Second, if you really look at the history of slaves in this country, ain’t no reason why white folk don’t deserve some metaphorical mucus.”

  “Come on, Moses. This is racist! This is racist against white people!”

  “How is it racist? I ain’t callin’ white folks names or tryin’ to hang ’em from trees! All I’m sayin’ is that I’m still pissed about my history. You got no idea what it’s like to...well, I’m just still pissed off! And I got every right to put it in my music.”

  “But what point are you trying to make by putting out music like this?”

  “I didn’t have a point when I started, just wanted to get a lot of stuff off my chest. Once the album drops, though, a point will kinda make itself. It’s obviously cool to talk about killing people in rap songs, as long as you not talkin’ ’bout killing white people.”

  “Why do you hate white people so much? I mean, do you really want to kill us like you say in your songs?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Not anymore?”

  “Hey, look, I’m tryin’ to be honest here. Couple months ago, yeah, I kinda did wanna kill some white folk. I had to go through some counselin’, you know, see a shrink and all, and now I’m past all that. I just let it all out in my music.”

  “I’ve heard you make it a point to have as little contact with white people as possible.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. That’s just for my own sanity, you know?”

  “Who goes into a coma and comes out hating white people, Moses?”

  “I don’t hate white people anymore.”

  “What happened while you were in your coma?”

  “I told you, I had a revelation.”

  “But specifically, what happened?”

  “I can’t talk about it.”

  “You can’t, or you don’t want to?”

  “Both.”

  “Something must have happened. You’re a completely different person than when I interviewed you last.”

  “I had a revelation, Phil. Let’s leave it at that.”

  Phil sat back in his seat, debating whether or not he wanted to push the issue. I hoped, for his sake, that he didn’t. I could already feel Xavier getting fidgety behind me.

  “Alright, let’s move on. Tell me about your newfound wealth.”

  “Well, it turns out that I made more money while I was in the coma than I ever had before. The sales of my records and merchandise and everything. Since I wasn’t spendin’ any of it, it just all piled up in an account. So, my beautiful wife—”

  “Who we will come back to, because that’s yet another unexpected turn in the life of Moses Jenkins.”

  “I wouldn’t say it was unexpected, but anyways, my wife suggested I invest it. I bought a lil bit of real estate here and there, you know, but then I found out about AudioTech.”

  “The music software company?”

  “Yeah. They had a product they said changed the way people heard music. First, I was like whatever, you know, they just fakin’, but then I heard it, and I was sold. They needed money, so I gave ’em some.”

  “I think you’re downplaying the situation a bit, Mr. Jenkins. Didn’t you become part owner of the company?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So then what happened?”

  “We got bought out.”

  “I love the way you can talk about this like it’s just not that big of a deal.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I mean, it is what it is.”

  “So who bought you all out?”

  “Microsoft.”

  “For how much?”

  “I’m not really at liberty to say, Phil.”

  “Well...can you give us a hint?”

  “Let’s put it this way—between the money I made from the deal, and the money I’m still bringin’ in from the music and stuff, I’m s’posed to make the bottom of the Forbes list in a couple months.”

  “For the richest people in the country?”

  “Yep.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Yeah, they jus’ called me last week. They said I’ll probably be the most controversial person they’ve ever had on it.”

  Phil looked genuinely amazed as he shook his head. “To make the Forbes list, you’ve gotta be...wow...”

  “Phil, chill out, man.”

  “So you’re a billionaire hatemonger?”

  I laughed out loud.

  “I’m not a hatemonger, Phil. If I was a billionaire hatemonger, though, which I’m not, I wouldn’t be the only one out here. I’d just be the only black one. But like I said, I’m not a hatemonger.”

  He stared in awe for another second, then shook himself out of his stupor. “How does your wife feel about this? Your wife and former manager.”

  “Oh, she’s still my manager. She don’t trust nobody else with the job. She jus’ got some staff now.”

  “She looks like she had an extreme makeover.”

  “Y’all act like she was ugly before! SaTia wasn’t never ugly, she jus’ dressed like she was always on the job.”

  “And now?”

  “Well, you can see for yourself.”

  A picture flashed on the screen of SaTia in one of her more elegant dresses, one she’d worn to the Grammy Awards.

  “She looks like a model, Moses. Seriously.”

  “Yeah, I know. I put that ring on her finger and it was all downhill from there.”

  “Does she act different now that you’re married?”

  “Naw, not really. Matter of fact, she stronger than ever. You know she runs the organizations, right?”

  “Yes, I do, and I wanted to talk to you about that. I’m glad you brought it up. In the last year, you’ve started two organizations, correct?”

  “Yeah. There’s Pride Roka, and Sarah’s Seeds, both of which my wife oversees. One is for men, and the other for women.”

  “And...this has been another source of controversy, correct?”

  “I
t’s whatever...I mean, it has, but it’s all bullsh...I can’t say that on the air, can I?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, well, it’s all lies. We only got twenty-four people, twelve men and twelve women, and people already talkin’ ’bout we teachin’ hate. All we talk ’bout is lovin’ ourselves and knowin’ where we came from.”

  “What about the two young men from Pride Roka that assaulted the group of white men downtown?”

  “The way I was told, them white guys called my two guys niggers. Say what you want ’bout my organization, but I got no problem sayin’—you call anybody from Pride Roka or Sarah’s Seeds a nigger, you be lucky to just get beat down. Real talk.”

  A faction of the audience burst into cheers and applause, while the rest began booing and screaming. We stopped talking for a while as the police struggled to get order back amongst the crowd. Four people were escorted out and after five minutes, we were able to continue.

  “And this isn’t hate speech to you at all, Mr. Jenkins?” Phil continued.

  “Hell no, this ain’t hate speech! If you gonna get on my folks for reactin’ if somebody calls them nigger, then tell the Jews stop gettin’ people fired and blackballed for bein’ anti-Semitic! Tell the Irish to quit fightin’ people over they heritage. Why every time black folk stand up and be proud, we always gotta be seen as bein’ violent and hateful, huh? If y’all scared of us, jus’ say y’all scared of us and let’s take it from there, but stop tryin’ to say that we violent jus’ ’cause we love our people!”

  “And I guess your new rap lyrics aren’t hate speech either, right?”

  “What I spit in my songs is truth; no more and no less.”

  “Well...” Phil began gathering up the papers around his desk. “I think it’s safe to say that you’ve established yourself as one of the most controversial, and maybe even dangerous, people in this country.”

  I shook my head. “See, Phil, that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout. I’m dangerous ’cause I want black folk to be proud of themselves, huh?”

  “No, you’re dangerous because you convince black people to hate white people.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve never, not in a song, not in my organization, ever told anyone to hate white people. I tell people to know they history.”

  “Do you know your history, Moses? Do you know that white people have championed the causes of African-Americans in this country for decades? White people were doing sit-ins with blacks, white people marched on Washington with Dr. King, white people got killed fighting for civil rights the same way blacks did! Do you know your history, Mr. Jenkins?”

  “I’ve lived it, Phil.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I’ve lived my history. So you can’t tell me a damn thing.”

  Phil looked around in a panic, knowing that I’d just cursed on live national television. He looked over at one of his producers, who gave him the signal to keep on going, and then quickly composed himself.

  “Well, I don’t know what you mean by saying you’ve lived your history, but we obviously see differently on many different things.”

  “Yeah, we do, and that’s cool. It’s some stuff you jus’ ain’t gonna understand ’cause you ain’t black. It is what it is, you know?”

  “No I don’t know, Mr. Jenkins. And according to you, I never will.”

  “Exactly. Finally, we agree on something.”

  “So...what are your plans for the future?”

  “I’m jus’ tryin’ to reach as many people as I can. As many people who will listen.”

  “And what’s your message, if you could sum it up?”

  I looked down at the floor and thought long and hard.

  “To question your society is to question your reality.”

  Phil turned and faced me. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it, Phil.”

  Phil stared at me, confused for a moment, and then turned his head toward the camera.

  “There you have it...a man transformed from an ordinary rapper into something...well, something else. We’re out of time tonight, but you can leave us your comments about the show on www.philwintersshow.com or email us at [email protected]. Tonight’s interview has been eye-opening to say the least, and we’d love to hear from you about it. I’d like to thank our guest, Mr. Moses Jenkins, for being with us on today’s show, and we’ll see you all next time. Good night.”

  “What happens now?”

  The three of us, SaTia, Xavier, and myself, had all climbed into the black Escalade that was to take us back to the hotel. The rest of the security team was following in an SUV behind us. SaTia looked at me with a curious interest written all over her face. “The world knows what you’re about now. What do you plan to do?”

  I couldn’t answer her immediately. Instead I looked out the window at the passing cars and buildings, wondering if this world was real. I still vividly remembered my time on the Talbert plantation. It played over and over in my head like a repeated Blu-ray disc. The colors were bright, the sound was clear, and the pain sometimes woke me up at night.

  SaTia had told me a while ago that sometimes I screamed out in my sleep. She could never wake me when I did, but took to singing “Ringin’ Dem Bells” in my ear whenever it happened. Only then would the scars on my back stop burning, and I’d fall back into resting.

  “Moses?”

  “I heard you, baby.”

  I turned away from the window and looked at her.

  “Sorry. I got caught up in my thoughts.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “She’s right, you know.” Xavier took his shades off. “I overheard one of the producers on the way out. The show broke all kinds of records for viewership, national and international. The whole world really does know what you’re about now. What’s your plan?”

  I shrugged my shoulders and looked back out the window.

  “I guess I gotta change it.”

  SaTia sat up.

  “Change what? The world?”

  “No doubt.”

  SaTia looked at me, then at Xavier, before sitting back in her seat. Xavier slipped his shades on, and we rode off into the city’s horizon.

  Epilogue

  “I heard you’ll be on the Phil Winters Show next week.”

  Dr. Bailey, who I’d called James since we sat down and talked after my defining press conference, made his way into the headquarters for Pride Roka, a three-story mansion right outside the city that’d we’d converted into a combination of offices, auditoriums, and outreach centers.

  “With all that money you have, I figured you’d just rent out a couple floors downtown.”

  “Naw...this here is more homelike, you know? I mean, you gotta travel to get here, but if you dedicated, then it ain’t no problem. We pay for all the members to get back and forth anyways.”

  “Sounds good. I hear you’re trying to save lives out here.”

  “That ain’t what the papers is sayin’.”

  “The papers are going to say what they want, Moses. You should know that by now.”

  “I do. That don’t mean I gotta like it.”

  We made our way into the auditorium space, where Xavier was teaching a martial arts class to five guys in their twenties. He’d overseen the security specifications to the house when we had it overhauled, with a promise from me that money would not be an issue. In return, I got an estate that looked totally normal from the outside, but had windows that could stop sniper bullets, walls reinforced so thick that a stick of C4 could explode in one room and leave the other rooms unaffected, and an information center in the basement that ran a background check on anyone who came through the front gate. This house, and my own home, which had very similar work done, were the only places he felt comfortable leaving my side.

  “X, how’s it going?”

  Xavier waved at James, and then turned to his class and called them to attention. After bowing, he dismissed them, and then ran over to meet us.
/>
  “James, what brings you down here?”

  “Wanted to talk to Moses about something.”

  “James, would you mind if X came along?” I knew Xavier had some free time, and wanted him to stick around. If what James wanted to talk about was as important as he made it out to be, then I’d need someone to talk with afterward.

  “Not at all. As a matter of fact, I was going to ask that he come.”

  “Cool. Let’s go to the back office.”

  We made our way through the house, greeting all the guys as we passed them. When we got to the office in the back, each of us took a seat.

  “So...James, what’s so important that it brought you away from your job?”

  “You ever heard of Nathan Freeman?”

  “Naw...I never heard of him.”

  “I have.” Xavier’s eyes went dark as he looked sideways at James. “What do you know about Nathan Freeman?”

  “Hold up, hold up...who is Nathan Freeman?” I interjected, beginning to feel left out.

  Xavier looked at James for a few moments longer, and then turned to me.

  “Nathan Freeman died a couple of years back. He was wanted for murder.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?”

  “Xavier, how long ago did you start working with that contracting firm?”

  “Why?”

  “It was right after Freeman died, wasn’t it?”

  “How do you know about him?”

  “Come on, man, y’all sound like some schoolgirls. What the hell is goin’ on with this Nathan Freeman dude?”

  Xavier stood as if he was getting ready to exit the room, and before any of us knew what was happening, he had his pistol out and pointed at James’ head. James jumped back in his seat and screamed.

  I didn’t even know Xavier had a pistol on him.

  “You’ve got five seconds to tell me how you know about Nathan Freeman, or so help me God, I’ll kill you right here.”

  “Whoa!” I jumped up out of my seat. “X, what the hell are you doin’, man?”

  “One...”

  James sat frozen in his chair, mumbling over his words and not sure of how to react.

  “Two...”

  “X, put the goddamn gun down, man!”

  “Three...”