Where Bones Dance: An English Girlhood, An African War

Nigger

Nigger N igger,” I say. I want to taste the word in my mouth. Mrs. Welt’s head jerks around. Mary is standing at the blackboard. She spelled vegetable right and now she is staring at it like she is going to eat each white chalky letter. “Who said that?” I look at Mrs. Welt’s belly. “Anna?” Christopher giggles. “Both of you, go to the headmaster’s of- fice right now. I will not have that word used in my classroom.” Her long Texas accent spins through the air like a lasso, her dress a perfect turquoise sky. The words hang for a moment over Christopher and me and then pull tight around us. “When you come back I expect you to apologize to Mary. Go.” I’ve never heard her this angry. Tears prickle my eyes. I can feel my face is bright red, all my skin is hot as I walk toward the door. We sit down on the bench outside Mr. Silver’s office. The red vinyl sticks to my legs. “My Dad says nigger whenever he’s stuck in traffic,” says Christopher. He has dark wavy hair and blue eyes and black eyelashes. He is the most beautiful boy in the class. Christopher is my favorite boy’s name. All the boys say he is 53 54 a sissy. One day Jonas came up to him and said, “Chrissie is a fairy, Chrissie is a fairy.” I wanted to punch Jonas but Christopher wouldn’t let me. He said it would be worse if a girl fought for him. If his father heard about that he would really beat him. “Why does he beat you?” “To make me a man.” “That’s dumb.” Christopher shrugged the way he always does. I think how Mr. Lee beats Jerry every Friday. He keeps a switch behind his golf bag in the living room. Jerry has to wait by the bag until his father calls him into his study. Jerry takes him the switch and Mr. Lee closes the sliding plastic curtain. I asked Jerry once why he didn’t hide on Fridays. He said that would just make it worse, the waiting was the hardest part. Afterwards he always has tears in his eyes. Dave and Caroline and I play Chinese Checkers in the living room and we’ve never heard him yell. I am getting nervous. “What do you think he’ll say?” Christopher shrugs. He brings his hands up from his elbows, he holds them palm up, empty. The door opens and the principal ’s secretary says, “Go on in now.” Mr. Silver has long bones and hair on his fingers and in his nose. “Tell me why you were sent to me?” I take a deep breath. “I said ‘nigger’ and Christopher giggled when Mrs. Welt said ‘Who said that?’” His face gets longer. “Why did you say ‘nigger’?” “I don’t know sir.” “What does ‘nigger’ mean?” “It means a black person.” I wish he would close his door. I know Miss Austen can hear every word and she is black too. “It’s a word white people use to make themselves feel better than black people. That’s not what this school is about. In this school we are equals. The color of somebody’s skin does not make C y c l e 1 them better or worse than you. Whether somebody is English or American or Nigerian or whatever does not make any difference. We are equals.” His eyes go sideways to his watch. “Equals,” he says, and he smiles and his whole face wrinkles like a turtle. Why are all the teachers white? Why aren’t there any white beggars except lepers who aren’t really white? Why are servants black? I want to ask him but I don’t. When we turn the corner of the corridor, Christopher says, “What a joke. Look, we missed almost the whole class.” I don’t say anything. In the classroom I go up to Mary. She sits near the door. “I’m sorry, Mary,” I say. She just looks at me, a flat nothing look. “I’m sorry I said that. I just was jealous because you spelled vegetable right and won.” I can’t make her eyes look any different. Then I see my fist going into her stomach. I just keep staring at her eyes...