Chapters (31)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Contents
- Room in the Dark I
- Fawns of the Diaspora Court Liliane in Paris, While Tabou Combo Whispers “Coq Qualité” in Her Ears
- Room in the Dark II
- “I Usedta Drink, Smoke and Do the Hoochie-Koo,” or What’s a Girl to Do When Her Mother Looks Like Ruth Brown
- Room in the Dark III
- “El Bochinche” es que only Fe Cortijo Knows or All the LeBron Brothers Know If Victor-Jésus María Sang Lili to Her Freedom
- Room in the Dark IV
- And Where Is Garnett Mimms?
- Room in the Dark V
- I Know Where Kansas City Is, But Did Wilbert Harrison Ever Get There?
- Room in the Dark VI
- Zoom Went the Strings of Liliane’s Heart, But Arsenio Rodriguez Could Have Told Her the Music Sounds Just as Sweet When We’re Blind and Still We See
- Room in the Dark VII
- I Know Where the E Train Stops But I’m “Sendin’ Out an S.O.S.” and I’m Not Edwin Starr Either
- Room in the Dark VIII
- “Happy, Happy Birthday, Baby” or Wouldn’t It Be Great If the Lead Singer of The Crests Wasn’t a White Boy and I Could Be My Mother?
- Room in the Dark IX
- Every Time My Lil World Seems Blue, I Just Haveta Look at You and Learn Eye-Hand Coordination
- Room in the Dark X
- “That’s Why I Love Her So and Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, I Want to Know” or Why Jackie Wilson Died in Silence
- Room in the Dark XI
- There’s No Use Cryin’ “Forever” or Hyacinthe Returns from a Very Blue Holiday for Real B(l)ack at Ya
- Room in the Dark XII
- Lollie Struts Her Stuff Thru “The Sea of Love” or the Brides of Frankenstein Catch the Bouquet
- By Ntozake Shange
- Acknowledgments
- Copyright
Well, all I could say was they was a-reelin’ and a-rockin’ the church was bout to get on up and shout hallelujah! To my mind, these colored folks never left what they came from: alla Lollie’s folks was reekin’ of slavery times, though they’d fight you to the death to say otherwise. But what could they say to me? I’m always gointa be more black than where they at. I’m Victor-Jésus María, the forever foreign brother, you know one of them Africans stole by somebody other than the folks what stole you and your pitiful behind, like was some kinda diminutive Tarzan pulled from the jungle of a pyschotic brain, soaked in formaldehyde and white women’s sweat for no less than four days. I know this cause I am the only one of my kind in sight, in any direction at all. I was a bigger mystery than Lili’s poor dead beau, Sawyer Malveaux.
I haven’t told a soul, not even Liliane that I plan to capture Sawyer’s ghost mingling with the wedding party as I document Lollie’s marriage extravaganza. This all seems rather incestuous to me. Lollie’s marrying Lili’s old boyfriend, Granville, whose brother is sniffin’ after that crazy bitch, Hyacinthe, who’s Sawyer’s survivin’ sister. Lord, this is wild, ain’t it? Oh, but we mustn’t forget that Roxie’s not here, either. Being colored is definitely dangerous, you know what I mean? Two members of the wedding get killed, not die, get straight up and murdered, and as Lollie says, if it can happen to her it could happen to anybody, just ordinary Negro people.
“Lollie, Lollie, please, I wanta take your picture please, Lollie.”
“We don’t know something that’s troubling us is
weighing on this legend coming our way
But think of us, he did
Dream for some of us, he did
Fight for all of us, oh, he did that, too,
And care for us always, whether we came with
Sweet potato pigs and sweet voices or
Pedigrees that could fly all the way to Dakar.
We could feel it in the breeze, catch it in his eyes,
Joy, faith, gumption, this man who walked among us
Knew the people could fly.”
This Lili recites to me while I’m documenting Lollie’s nuptials. “Sweetheart, isn’t that a bit gruesome for something like this?”