Chapters (16)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Se pa tout blesi ki geri
- Sa ki bon avèk yon kè, sè ke li pa pote jijman
- Se lè yon sous seche, moun konn valè dlo
- Di m’ sa ou renmen, epi m’ava di ou ki moun ou ye
- Vrè lanmou pa konn danje
- Manman Poul grate, grate jouk li jwenn zo grann li
- Acknowledgments
- Readers Guide
- Beyond the Talented TenthAn Essay by Kaitlyn Greenidge
- Black Motherhood as Literary CreationAn Interview with Kaitlyn Greenidgeby Liz Button
- Questions for Discussion
- Also by Kaitlyn Greenidge
- About the Author
- Praise for Libertie
Eventually, we learned, from whispers, what the boys said they saw when they jumped in the river to rescue him. That underneath the water, the boy swimmer had seen Ben, had tried to pull him up, but he was stopped. Ben was wrapped in the arms of a woman, her skin glowing golden in the waves, the pink of her dress flashing through the murk of the river, her hair long. She had looked at the boy as he swam close and reached for Ben Daisy’s hand. He said she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and she’d beckoned to him, as if to welcome him into her arms, too. He said he was overcome with the desire to swim into them until she smiled at him—with a mouth full of thousands of pointed teeth. Then Ben had tugged his hand out of the swimmer’s, had waved softly and turned his whole body inward, like a baby’s, to be cradled in the arms of the woman in the water. And the boy kicked away, up to the surface, before he could be tempted to join them.
Ben Daisy and his woman sleep in the river
Sleep in the river
Sleep in the river
Ben Daisy and his woman sleep in the river
Even past Judgment Day
That was the song, I am ashamed to say, that I made up after hearing this story, and the other children sang it, too. It became the anthem of our schoolyard for a year, and children still sing it today, I am told. I sang it because of all that I did not know and could not know about what happened. But even at that age, I knew curiosity could be heartless and I made sure not to sing it around Miss Hannah or my mother.
My heart hurt, and I was full of disgust, though for who or for what I did not know. I only knew I did not ever want to care for another if it made me act like Mr. Ben. If it made me wander the fields of Brooklyn, pressing flowers for someone who would never come. If it made me speak another’s name until it became my own, even when I was guaranteed no answer. If it made me try to heal my people and fail so disastrously. If it made me put my brother in a coffin to get him free and still have him die anyways.
Care, I decided, was monstrous.
It was as clear as Ben Daisy’s hat, floating on the waters. I would not be a doctor, no matter what Mama wished. I could not deceive others, and I could not deceive myself, as she did.
