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
Now, I’m not bragging or putting on airs or anything like that at all, but our house did seem grand. After all we’d just about turned spit to gold to keep it since Reconstruction times. One of my father’s granddaddies had done well with the scalawags and carpetbaggers, who licensed general stores to him when it got too bad for white radicals to be seen with Negroes. So that great-granddaddy built himself a swear-for-Jesus plantation house in a small grove by the Biloxi town limits. That way, since we were unincorporated, the white folks couldn’t tax us to oblivion when the mood suited them. Anyway, the place was just a dream to behold to my eyes. Mama had lights suspended through the cottonwoods. A dance floor of real heavy rubber was set out in the yard. Lawn tables were placed by the sides of the fences, so the roses and wisteria lingered over possible conversations. We were expecting a few white folks, cause the Legal Defense Fund was integrated, so things were a bit more dramatic than ordinarily before a party at my folks’ place. Yet we’d had so many guests for a week, since Negroes couldn’t stay in hotels nearby, that I felt very much at home, even though it wasn’t quite like my home with so many grown folks, Liliane and her folks, my folks and me. Oh, what a wonderful way to end a week of planning and strategy for the Negro.
“Roxie, aren’t you afraid here? I mean, living in Biloxi,” Liliane asked me, while I was zipping up this sundress of pink and red flowers I’d finally convinced her to wear.
“No, not unduly,” I replied. “Oh, oh, Liliane, you look delightful, I must say. Look at yourself.” I moved her over to the wall mirror where Liliane smoothed her waist and pushed up her bosom how my mama did sometimes to no avail. “See there, just a darling you are.”
“Thanks.”
Liliane blushed, I swear. I knew once I got her in a dress she’d be more amenable to my suggestions. Liliane’s personality changed, you see, when she was all gussied up. She was more like her mama, you see, when her beauty was undisturbed. I, myself, was in an A-line dress with a hint of bust: fuchsia, very good color for me.
“Roxie, this is Mississippi,” Liliane blurted through the last shreds of light creeping round our window shades. So out of the mood, she was.
“Yes, Liliane, this is Mississippi. And we are the veritable belles of the ball,” I retorted.