Suck on the Marrow

Complicit

70 Complicit “We’ll have to round up all these free men and send them back to Africa.” Friends of Mrs. Cartwright’s, Colonization Society folks who think she ought to be informed, say Liberia is waiting. They ask, “What other way?” They ask what other chance there is for the colored race to hope for true improvement. Mrs. Cartwright says, for her part she’s glad to know I’ll always be on hand in Philadelphia. Quick as it’s said, I’m sent to market for common width calicoe I’ll sew into work frocks for her in-house girl and fine shirting muslin from which I’ll fashion shirts for all the little Cartwright men. A year into Joe’s absence I burned my petticoats, flannels, all of Jacob’s trousers. I couldn’t let the skin he touched touch cotton and wouldn’t let my mouth wet rice. I ate nothing sugared, cultivated a taste for boiled water so I could wean myself from tea. My employer looks to Rev. Finney to learn which acts will prove her faith. She gets by quite alright since Mr. Cartwright’s textile ventures have begun to do so well (she told the ladies who came today for coffee). Her help is handsomely remunerated to assure loyalty (she added after I’d removed myself and all their untouched cakes). The production of sugar for a family of five requires several months’ labor from one slave. I still eat little but greens, tubers, beans and fruit. The free goods my grocer sells. I suffered through summers in wool and owned no kerchiefs until the Committee opened a free labor store. ...