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
“Roxie, this is hardly the time to be flirting with boys, when the race is at a crossroads. That’s what my daddy says. The Negro race is at a crossroads no less daunting than the move to Emancipation. It’s very serious.” Liliane was becoming her more energetic self, wrestling with her hair and limbs like she could bring no order to bear upon them in the Gulf breeze that undid everyone’s best intentions.
“Well, old slaves, abolitionists, and Negro cavalrymen had children. I don’t see any reason civil rights attorneys shouldn’t be procreating as well, and I intend to look presentable when I see them this evening. You suit yourself, but that beatnik attire will certainly seem out of place, if you ask me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my turtlenecks and slacks. There’s nothing sacred in dresses and slips, you know.”
“If you insist on embarrassing your parents that way, make a point of using a whole lot of deodorant. That’s what I’d do if I was you. Don’t want to be stink and look like nothing as well.”
“Roxie, my mama says if a boy can’t see past what you’re wearing, he’ll certainly never know your true worth.”
“Well, I guess, you could hope they see you at all.”
“Oh, Roxie, you make me sick with this Scarlett O’Hara mess.” Liliane whipped our blanket through the air so the sand pricked me like so many hot combs.
“Liliane. Stop it. Stop it, this minute. I’ll never get this stuff washed and pressed in time, if you don’t just quit. Stop, now. Do you hear me?”
Liliane giggled irrepressibly, ran to the water’s edge, and kept going. I wished for a minute the current would sweep her into Cuban waters where she’d see up close that revolutionaries have children, their beaches don’t have COLORED ONLY signs, and the girls wear really pretty dresses, lipstick, and nail polish. But Liliane walked back from her brief swim, still laughing; she never got to Cuba.