always looking. I mean that if I could just find ten Negroes--ten of my own people--with spine and brains and courage who are willing to give all that they have--’ Portia put down the coffee. ‘Us was not talking about anything like that’
‘Only four Negroes,’ said Doctor Copeland. ‘Only the sum of Hamilton and Karl Marx and William and you. Only four Negroes with these real true qualities and backbone--’
‘Willie and Highboy and me have backbone,’ said Portia angrily. ‘This here is a hard world and it seem to me us three struggles along pretty well.’
For a minute they were silent. Doctor Copeland laid his spectacles on the table and pressed his shrunken fingers to his eyeballs.
‘You all the time using that word--Negro,’ said Portia. ‘And that word haves a way of hurting people’s feelings. Even old plain nigger is better than that word. But polite peoples--no matter what shade they is--always says colored.’
Doctor Copeland did not answer. ‘Take Willie and me. Us aren’t all the way colored. Our Mama was real light and both of us haves a good deal of white folks’ blood in us. And Highboy--he Indian. He got a good part Indian in him. None of us is pure colored and the word you all the time using haves a way of hurting people’s feelings.’
‘I am not interested in subterfuges,’ said Doctor Copeland. ‘I am interested only in real truths.’
‘Well, this here is a truth. Everybody is scared of you. It sure would take a whole lot of gin to get Hamilton or Buddy or Willie or my Highboy to come in this house and sit with you like I does. Willie say he remember you when he were only a little boy and he were afraid of his own father then.’
Doctor Copeland coughed harshly and cleared his throat.
‘Everbody haves feelings--no matter who they is--and nobody is going to walk in no house where they certain their feelings will be hurt. You the same way. I seen your feelings injured too many times by white peoples not to know that.’
‘No,’ said Doctor Copeland. ‘You have not seen my feelings injured.’
‘Course I realize that Willie or my Highboy or me--that none of us is scholars. But Highboy and Willie is both good as gold.
There just is a difference between them and you.’
‘Yes,’ said Doctor Copeland.
‘Hamilton or Buddy or Willie or me--none of us ever cares to talk like you. Us talk like our own Mama and her peoples and their peoples before them. You think out everthing in your brain. While us rather talk from something in our hearts that has been there for a long time. That’s one of them differences.’
‘Yes,’ said Doctor Copeland.
‘A person can’t pick up they children and just squeeze them to which-a-way they wants them to be. Whether it hurt them or not. Whether it right or wrong. You done tried that hard as any man could try. And now I the only one of us that would come in this here house and sit with you like this.’ The light was very bright in Doctor Copeland’s eyes and her voice was loud and hard. He coughed and his whole face trembled. He tried to pick up the cup of cold coffee, but his hand would not hold it steadily. The tears came up to his eyes and he reached for his glasses to try to hide them. Portia saw and went up to him quickly. She put her arms around his head and pressed her cheek to his forehead. ‘I done hurt my Father’s feelings,’ she said softly. His voice was hard. ‘No. It is foolish and primitive to keep repeating this about hurt feelings.’ The tears went slowly down his cheek and the fire made them take on the colors of blue and green and red. ‘I be really and truly sorry,’ said Portia. Doctor Copeland wiped his face with his cotton handkerchief. ‘It is all right.’
‘Less us not ever quarrel no more. I can’t stand this here fighting between us. It seem to me that something real bad come up in us ever time we be together. Less us never quarrel like this no more.’
‘No,’ said Doctor Copeland. ‘Let
‘Only four Negroes,’ said Doctor Copeland. ‘Only the sum of Hamilton and Karl Marx and William and you. Only four Negroes with these real true qualities and backbone--’
‘Willie and Highboy and me have backbone,’ said Portia angrily. ‘This here is a hard world and it seem to me us three struggles along pretty well.’
For a minute they were silent. Doctor Copeland laid his spectacles on the table and pressed his shrunken fingers to his eyeballs.
‘You all the time using that word--Negro,’ said Portia. ‘And that word haves a way of hurting people’s feelings. Even old plain nigger is better than that word. But polite peoples--no matter what shade they is--always says colored.’
Doctor Copeland did not answer. ‘Take Willie and me. Us aren’t all the way colored. Our Mama was real light and both of us haves a good deal of white folks’ blood in us. And Highboy--he Indian. He got a good part Indian in him. None of us is pure colored and the word you all the time using haves a way of hurting people’s feelings.’
‘I am not interested in subterfuges,’ said Doctor Copeland. ‘I am interested only in real truths.’
‘Well, this here is a truth. Everybody is scared of you. It sure would take a whole lot of gin to get Hamilton or Buddy or Willie or my Highboy to come in this house and sit with you like I does. Willie say he remember you when he were only a little boy and he were afraid of his own father then.’
Doctor Copeland coughed harshly and cleared his throat.
‘Everbody haves feelings--no matter who they is--and nobody is going to walk in no house where they certain their feelings will be hurt. You the same way. I seen your feelings injured too many times by white peoples not to know that.’
‘No,’ said Doctor Copeland. ‘You have not seen my feelings injured.’
‘Course I realize that Willie or my Highboy or me--that none of us is scholars. But Highboy and Willie is both good as gold.
There just is a difference between them and you.’
‘Yes,’ said Doctor Copeland.
‘Hamilton or Buddy or Willie or me--none of us ever cares to talk like you. Us talk like our own Mama and her peoples and their peoples before them. You think out everthing in your brain. While us rather talk from something in our hearts that has been there for a long time. That’s one of them differences.’
‘Yes,’ said Doctor Copeland.
‘A person can’t pick up they children and just squeeze them to which-a-way they wants them to be. Whether it hurt them or not. Whether it right or wrong. You done tried that hard as any man could try. And now I the only one of us that would come in this here house and sit with you like this.’ The light was very bright in Doctor Copeland’s eyes and her voice was loud and hard. He coughed and his whole face trembled. He tried to pick up the cup of cold coffee, but his hand would not hold it steadily. The tears came up to his eyes and he reached for his glasses to try to hide them. Portia saw and went up to him quickly. She put her arms around his head and pressed her cheek to his forehead. ‘I done hurt my Father’s feelings,’ she said softly. His voice was hard. ‘No. It is foolish and primitive to keep repeating this about hurt feelings.’ The tears went slowly down his cheek and the fire made them take on the colors of blue and green and red. ‘I be really and truly sorry,’ said Portia. Doctor Copeland wiped his face with his cotton handkerchief. ‘It is all right.’
‘Less us not ever quarrel no more. I can’t stand this here fighting between us. It seem to me that something real bad come up in us ever time we be together. Less us never quarrel like this no more.’
‘No,’ said Doctor Copeland. ‘Let
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