Free Push by Sapphire Page A

who is real man. But I never seen him 'cept on videos! He say problem is not crack but the cracker! I go for that shit.
    Ms Rain say one of the critcizsm of The Color Purple is it have fairy tale ending. I would say, well shit like that can be true. Life can work out for the best sometimes. Ms Rain love Color Purple too but say realism has its virtues too.
    Izm, smizm! Sometimes I wanna tell Ms Rain shut up with all the IZM stuff. But she my teacher so I don't tell her shut up. I don't know what
    "realism" mean but I do know what REALITY is and it's a mutherfucker, lemme tell you.
    Mama come to 2way house. (What is J4way house? I thought I already told you. But anyway I tell you from book I read about battered woman.
    In a way I was a battered woman but I was not a woman—actually I was a chile. And it wasn't my husband. I don't have a husband. It was my muver.) But anyway, I never readed no book about a place for children, jus' for grown-up women (in a way I am that too) and babies. But this book I was reading was about a woman who got beat up by her husband. And she escape to
    #way house. She asks people at the place just what 2way house is. They tell her, You is busy between the life you had and the life you want to have. Ain't that nice. You should read that book if you have a chance.
    So I'm in 2way house, I been there, oh, not quite a year; like in book I read—I'm on threshold of stepping out into my new life, an apartment for me, Abdul, and maybe Little Mongo, we see on that one, mo' education, new friends. I done left Mama, Daddy, Ms Lichenstein, I.S. 146 behind.
    So I'm wondering what hoe want wif me. Can't get no money. I went see about Little Mongo back when I first get in Advancement House.
    They put her in institution, say she severely (mean real) retarded, and Toosie hadn't been doing things that would help her—like colors on the wall and books 'n shit, so she really in bad shape. They say even if she could be help, take a lot more than me to help, and ain't I got full load with Abdul.

    Anyway live-in social worker at Advancement House call me into office, say, Precious, your mother is here to see you. Ax me do I want to see her. I say OK. (It's not like I want to see her but since she corned all this way here I will see her. She know better, I think, than to fuck wif me now.)
    I walk in dayroom. Mama quiet. Mama look bad, don't have to get close to know she smell bad.
    But then I look Mama and see my face, my body, my color—we bofe big, dark. Am I ugly? Is Mama ugly? I'm not sure. I know she got pussy odor and ugly brogan shoes like people make fun of and giant green dress that her legs come out of like black jelly elephant legs. I'm ashamed, this is my Mama. No matter how fly my braids is, how I grease my skin, scalp, no matter how many jew'ries, this is my mother.
    Mama don't look me in eye. She never did 'less she was shouting on me or telling me what to do
    —cook her something or go to store. She look down say, "Your daddy dead." She come out the house to tell me that! So what! I'm glad the nigger's dead. No, I don't mean that, but so what.
    Mama quiet. Mama say, "Carl had the AIDS
    virus.''
    You know, so what, why you telling me. Then oh!
    No! Oh no, I get all squozen inside. Carl fuckes me. I could be done have it. Abdul could be—oh no, I can't even say nuffin'.
    A long time I don't say nuffin', jus' look at Mama.
    This what I come out of? Like Abdul and Little Mongo come out of me. If she ever said a kind word to me I don't remember it. Sixteen years I live in her house without knowing how to read.
    Since I was little her husband fuck me beat me.
    My daddy. I want to hate him— but it's funny I, he, give me the only good thing in my life aside from Ms Rain, ABCs, and girls at school; Abdul come from him, my son, my brother. But Mama give me to him. This my mother. Carl come in the night, take food, what money they is, fuck us bofe. Something cross my mind now. Man rape Celie turn out not to