I Still Dream About You

Brenda Reflects

DRIVING BACK TO THE OFFICE FROM LUNCH, BRENDA WAS IN A RARE reflective mood. She said, “You know, Maggie, when I was young, I used to want to be white, but not anymore. Ask me why.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Then why did you want me to ask you?”

“Well… because… I’m trying to figure it out. It didn’t happen during the Black Is Beautiful thing or when Obama was elected; it’s even more recent than that.”

“Really.”

“Yes, and I’m thinking that Oprah and Queen Latifah had a lot to do with it… I mean, if they don’t mind being big and black… then I don’t mind, you know?”

“I can understand that.”

“And guess what else?”

“What?”

“I’m beginning to like being a little plump; what do you think about that?”

“I think it’s great. You know all that’s important is that you’re healthy.”

They drove a few more blocks.

“Maggie, I never told anybody this, but during the sixties, when all the marches and sit-ins were going on, with all the name-calling and the misery we had to go through, I sometimes used to wonder if it was even worth it. But not anymore.”

“No?”

“No. I feel a lot better about everything now, because if you think about it, I’m really kind of in style these days. Lord, who would have ever thought it, but I guess that’s what happens when you live long enough. Just think, not more than fifty years ago, most black women in Birmingham couldn’t hope to be more than somebody’s maid, and now one is getting ready to run for mayor.”

“That’s right,” said Maggie. “The world has changed.”

“Yeah, it’s hard for me to believe but… I guess now with Obama being elected, black is the new white.”

“It would seem so, honey.”

Brenda then looked out the window and sighed, “I just wish I could get back all those years when I felt so bad about myself. I just wish…” She didn’t finish her sentence, and tears rolled down her face. She said, “Life is so hard sometimes.”

Maggie reached over and put her hand on Brenda’s arm. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Oh, Maggie, you just don’t know how bad it feels to have people who don’t even know you hate you, and for something you had nothing to do with.”

Maggie started to tell Brenda something that she had never told anyone, but decided not to. But she did know how it felt. She knew exactly how it felt.

Brenda was right, of course; people of color were very much in style now, and as Ethel said, at the slow rate whites (particularly Presbyterians) were reproducing, she wouldn’t be surprised if in fifty years, they would be the new minority. If that were to happen, Maggie wondered if there would be a White History Month on A &E to celebrate all the old customs and featuring native dishes like tomato aspic, chocolate mousse, and dinner rolls. She hoped they would get their own month, or at least a week.