The People Behind My Eyes

Therapy Assignment: aka The Hazard Papers

Turning Her Voice Down
Turning her voice down is easier said than done. When she told us that our life depended on her voice she meant it. There was a time that I feared I’d fall to powder and blow away if I crossed state lines without her. I feared I would simply disappear like smoke if I left the state to live without her. She said she was the only person in the world I could trust and that family was all I had. We did the military training in the car so that when someone came after us we’d know how to react. She taught us to picture ourselves being tortured and raped so that when it happens we will be able to withstand it.

I feared this woman more than anything in my life, more than the uncle that put a gun to my head repeatedly, more than my cousin who planned the murder of my family based on their greatest fears, more than the Devil himself because I knew this woman could and would kill me. She told us that when we make a decision to see her face and ask if she would approve of it. She said that no matter where we went there would be someone watching us. If my sister and I went to the store alone she said that someone would be watching us for her. She said that even if she didn’t find things out immediately that she would eventually find out. She used the scripture that says that everything is naked and openly exposed to God (the anger that just flashed from my heart and through my eyes could have blinded me).

Everything we did and thought was based on what she wanted us to do. Speaking against her was not just stupid but dangerous. The consequences of that were severe. But it wasn’t just physical; it was emotional because she always waited until late at night before we lay down to sleep to deliver the punishment. When she whipped us with that dowel rod it was on our own bed right before we went to sleep. Sometimes the punishment was that we had to go to sleep and then she would whip us awake with the dowel rod. If you expect me to read this out loud you’re out of your mind cause I’m not reading this out loud. You can read it to yourself cause I’m not saying this out loud. (Keeping Morton back so I can write this is increasingly difficult)

When I first started to shave my legs the woman laughed at me and told me that I looked like a fool shaving them because there wasn’t enough to shave off. She laughed at me all the fucking time and told me not to make a fool of myself. Do you know that at age 34 I hear that woman laugh at me every single damn time I shave my legs? When I listen to music I hear her laugh at me saying, “I guess you’re going back to your roots huh?” that damn fucking smile on her fucking face is the only thing I see. God I hate that woman! Being Black, having any type of connection to the Black community, having a black boyfriend, anything Black was mocked and brought an onslaught of humiliation and name-calling. Her whole family hated Black people and as far as I know they still do. Do you know how many times I heard, “this is why black people don’t deserve anything” or “if you get married don’t marry a black man”, “don’t bring a black man home,” on and on and on! Hanging out with black girls was just as offensive to her. Our hair had to be just right so that “white people could see we aren’t all from the ghetto” We had to speak a certain way so that “white people could see we aren’t all under-educated” There was nothing that this woman didn’t have something to say about. This is why I believe that some of the insiders are Deaf cause hearing nothing is better than taking the chance of hearing her damn voice !

It felt like nothing was safe from this woman. It felt like my thoughts belonged to her. When I learned sign language and used that instead of speaking I at least felt like I could keep those words from her because she didn’t know sign. You know this woman knows sign now?? What the fuck? She knows sign language as well so it really doesn’t feel like anything at all is safe from her. I don’t have to speak with my voice for her to hear me. No matter what I say, with voice or sign, this woman is going to hear me and then those fucking memories are going to come flooding back and I’m going to retreat to fear. If you plan to break this kind of hold you need something more than a fucking assignment.

Morton’s Pride