the woman warrior

May 08, 2005 23:21

"A dumbness- a shame- still cracks my voice in two, even when I want to say 'hello' casually, or ask an easy question in front of the checkout counter, or ask directions of a bus driver. I stand frozen, or I hold up the line with the complete, grammatical sentence that comes squeaking out at impossible length...A telephone call makes my throat bleed and takes up that day's courage. It spoils my day with self-disgust when I hear my broken voice come skittering out into the open. It makes people wince to hear it...
My silence was thickest- total- during the three years that I covered my school paintings with black paint. I painted layers of black over houses and flowers and suns, and when I drew on the blackboard, I put a layer of chalk top. I was making a stage curtain, and it was the moment before the curtain parted or rose. The teachers called ny parents to school, and I saw they had been saving my pictures, curling and crackling, all alike and black. The teachers pointed to the pictures and looked serious, talked seriously too, but my parents did not understand English. My parents took the pictures home. I spread them out (so black and full of possibilities) and pretended the curtains were swinging open, flying up, one after another, sunlight underneath, mighty operas."
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