The same year I went to that first Jethro Tull concert in London I had this first experience with a black woman. I was in an underground train and this beautiful black girl was staring at me, seductive. I panicked. I could not overcome my prejudice and I turned my back to her. I was 17. For years I felt bad about it. Many years later, on my last trip with Julieta, we were waiting for the underground train in Paris. I walked away from her for some minutes and then back, to watch her in an intense conversation with a black kid. The kid was hitting on her, and she was all smiles and laughs. She looked at me, question mark and weary about my reaction. I winked at her, turned around and let her do whatever she wanted. I felt good. Julieta's lack of prejudice was my redemption.
Yesterday I was parked in my car when a black woman passed by. We smiled at each other. She came to me, asked if she could step into the car. I said yes. She is beautiful. Her face has scars of a bad life. We talk. I know that she is open for trade. I don't know if I could. She asks me for money. I give her 5 bucks. She gives me a sweet kiss in the cheek. This time I don't feel the racial prejudice. But I wouldn't have sex for money. I wouldn't even have sex for sex's sake. You see, many are looking for fun. I am looking for joy. Many are looking for sex. I am looking for love.
I went biking to the theater. Phoenix is great for biking. Downtown is deserted after five, you have all the streets and walkways for yourself. Ha, you really feel you owns the place. When arrived, I realize that this is a one person show of a locally well know personality. Black personality. The audience is 99% black. The other half percent is a member of the production staff. In these situations, like when I found myself and my friend Jerry the only whities invited to a Hopi ceremony, I feel very weary about doing something wrong. Or calling anyone's attention. Back then, in the Hopi Kachina ceremony, a huge Kachina customed Hopi man came to me and gave me a present: a biscuit. I felt accepted and welcomed and honored. While I was about to buy the $40 expensive ticket at the theater, a black woman came to me and offered me a ticket for free. Such a good feeling again. Beautiful, my age and very intelligent, she explained all I needed to know about Fatima, the artist.
The show was good. Do you want to know more? It was excellent. More? I was moved. I confess that "Juliette must die" was an encoded message for me, not sure if I wanted to decode. Fatima and Juliette are two sides of the same person. One is spiritual and full of rites and search for god. The other is sluty and real, suffers and struggles with life and life for a black woman in America is hell. Fatima wants to exorcize angry Juliette, Jul;iette's death is metaphoric. At the end, Fatima acknowledges that she can't and won't kill Juliette. As well as I won't.
At the end of the show, there was a Q&A session. None. People would stand up, open their hearts, and show their emotions with such a high human quality...
I don't experience this flow of empathy with whities. I have with natives, with blacks, even with chicanos. Land of the free, home of the brave! Your soul, your courage, your future is negromulatomestizoindiolatinochicano!
