NIA:

Yes.

Lights transition and NIA walks into her spotlight.

Sandy held her breath, when you pulled back the blanket. Pity the bitch didn’t pass out, while you were looking her baby over. I’ll always remember how you smiled when you looked at his ears, then laughed out loud when you saw his even paler fingers. Sandy knew the shit was good, and she had passed again. (beat) I couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe the bitch was back on her pedestal. (laughs bitterly to herself) Yeah you knew she had skipped more classes than she had ever gone to. Hung out with the wrong crowd. Dropped out of high school because she was pregnant. But you conveniently forgot all of this because she had given birth to her light brown bundle of joy. (two beats) Her kid’s hair was so wavy, I thought you would jump right in for a swim. You were such a proud grandmother. Quickly calling all the family and telling them how the baby could easily pass for White. (shakes her head in disbelief) And I just wanted to go over there and smack you in your damn Black ugly face, and ask you, what about me! What about Tasha? Did you know that Tasha’s birthday was last week? Did you know that her kindergarten teacher said she’s reading at a grade two level, and today she tied her shoelaces all by herself. But you wouldn’t give a fuck would you because you can’t find a wave in Tasha’s hair. No good hair, no mistaking my baby for White. Her skin is black coffee, black coffee without the milk. And I know it’s all my fault cause I chose to lay down with a man that if he closed his eyes and stopped smiling you would have thought he left the room. (beat) Midnight you called him, but personally I think he looks more like quarter past. And when Tasha was born you marched over to the hospital, hoping for the best but expecting the worst. And you got that didn’t you? You didn’t laugh when you looked at Tasha’s dark fingers and even darker ears. And your face said it all. No need to speak Mom, because I had heard it all before. (imitating her mother) ”How many times do I have to tell you girls pick the men you lay with because anything too black is never good.” (pause) Anything too black is never good. Anything too black is never good! I should have known that because I was never good enough for you was I! You hated my blackness. Ranted and raved every Sunday afternoon as you heated up the pressing comb to press my bad hair. While Sandy ran outside. The good hair one. The light one. The right one. We stayed in the hot kitchen and I pinned my ears back holding my breath, not daring to move because I didn’t want to get burnt again. And as you fried and cooked my bad hair, you cursed my blackness. Cursed my father.