Shoes
It's ten o'clock in the morning. To be home at this
time of day is highly unusual for me. My routine is to get up
at 6 a.m., get dressed, then walk to the coffee shop. The fresh
air in the morning and a cup of black smack seems to give me energy
for the day. This morning I woke up at 6 but returned to bed,
not because I was tired, but because I just had to stop. Last
night, we went to Trinity to see the play, "Ma Rainey's Black
Bottom." Ever since I can remember, night time has never been
my best time. My preference would have been a matinee. The play
took place in a recording studio in the early 1900's. The usual
high-pressure types, not much different from the Wall Street,
fast-lane set. Since Ma Rainey had a reputation for being late
or for not showing up at all, the director was laying the responsibility
on the manager to make sure this recording session would go smoothly.
The four black fellows in the band trickled in one at a time while
the people-pleasing manager showed them to their usual rehearsal
room and made it a point to get them sandwiches from the deli.
The band was having a hard time getting started for they seemed
to be distracted by what I perceived to be men's foolish talk--black
or white. One issue that stood out was the leading man's new shoes
which cost him a whole week's pay. He may have been the younger
of the four with less life-experience than the others. For him,
those shoes were worth every cent. Wearing those shoes raised
not only his energy level but also his self-esteem. I remember
feeling the same way when I was a young woman. There were times
when I had to have new shoes or a new dress. But it had to be
more than new, it had to be the best and expensive. I did identify
with that scene. Why is it that some of us come out of the same
place of oppression and rise above it, yet others must have their
new shoes to relieve the pain? His reason for shuffling the white
man's dance was the result of learned behavior for he had watched
his father's example. At eight years old, he witnessed the rape
of his mother by several white men while his father was not in
the house. As a child, his eyes could not tell him what was happening
to his mother, he only understood that it was bad. He knew where
his father kept his knife and he ran back with it, lashing out
and stabbing one of the men in the shoulder. The man retaliated
by slashing the boy across his chest leaving a scar the length
of it. The actor ripped off his shirt to show the audience his
scar. My mind went to the young model who was attacked in New
York by men who cut up her face with a razor. She was telling
the interviewer that she was glad that her face was healing because
she was regaining her freedom to go out and not be asked to tell
her story. When people would ask her what happened, "Were you
in a car crash?" she would have to say, "No, I was attacked."
She is now back to modeling and her attitude seemed very healthy.
I don't know if I could be so brave. Again, I was struck by the
way one person can be victimized and move on, and another harbors
the rage deep in the unconscious, waiting patiently for the day
of rebirth. I have no answers. The main character on the stage
was overcome by his personal rage at the end of the play. He stabbed
his fellow musician in the back because he accidentally stepped
on his new shoes. The fact that his friend said he was sorry was
not heard by the enraged young man. How was his colleague to know
the depth of meaning the shoes held for him? The evil had taken
him over just as it had taken over those men who raped his mother.
And his friend was dead. The fact that rage had subsided and gone
off to wherever rage goes to when sanity is restored did not breathe
life into the dead man. Maybe I stayed so long in bed today to
give my personal rages a good rest. For I know that new shoes
will help, but what will keep me from the evil that lies deep
in all of us is my belief in spirituality: that victory over my
resentments of mankinds injustices will give me not only peace,
but a place in the great army of people who will never again be
part of the problem, but rather the cure.
Copyright; Ruth
Mahoney 21-Jan-88
