“Mama, I can make it easier today ’cause I awready know what it is you were gonna tell me when I came back from the store.”

“You do, do you?”

“Yeah, you were going to tell me that since I became a woman, boys were gonna come round more often, ’cause they could follow the trail of stars that fall from between my legs after dark.”

“What?”

“The stars that fall from ’tween my legs can only be seen by boys who are pure of mind and strong of body.”

“Indigo, listen to me very seriously. This is Charleston, South Carolina. Stars don’t fall from little colored girls’ legs. Little boys don’t come chasing after you for nothing good. White men roam these parts with evil in their blood, and every single thought they have about a colored woman is dangerous. You have gotta stop living this make-believe. Please, do that for your mother.”

“Every time I tell you something, you tell me about white folks. ‘White folks say you can’t go here—white folks say you can’t do this—you can’t do that.’ I didn’t make up white folks, what they got to do with me? I ain’t white. My dolls ain’t white. I don’t go round bothering white folks!”

“That’s right, they come round bothering us, that’s what I’m trying to tell you . . .”

“Well if they bothering you so much, you do something about ’em.”

“Is that some sass comin’ out your mouth?”

“No, M’am. It’s just I don’t understand why any ol’ white person from outta nowhere would want to hurt us. That’s all.”

Indigo moved to her mother, with a seriousness about her that left the kitchen emptied of all its fullness and aroma.

“I love you so much, Mama. & you are a grown colored woman. Some white man could just come hurt you, any time he wants, too? Oh I could just kill ’em, if they hurt you, Mama. I would. I would just kill anybody who hurt you.”

Holding her child as tight as she could, as close into herself as she could, the mother whispered as softly as she could, as lovingly as she could: “Well, then we’ll both be careful & look after each. Won’t we?”