Something in the works:
Valerie
Living the Hell Outta Life...
There are millions of Valeries in the world & they all live one life.A little girl who wants to be a super hero. An elderly lady mourning the death of Amy Winehouse, friends willing to shoot each other for a chance at a fortune,
and many others, join to share snaps into their lives through a collection of short treasures.
About females of all ages, race, and stations in life-
Each have one thing in common, their name is Valerie....
*Ain't Enough Shuffling in the World*
Valerie shuffled her feet, the action barely moving her two steps forward in the line. The fine powder of dust , billowing up before floating back down and landing on the toes of the formerly shiny polished tips of her patent leather shoes, pissed her off and she closed her eyes in frustration. The brief darkness only serving to anger her more.
Shuffle-one small step, the breath in her chest tightened and her teeth clinched. The voice of her great great grandmother rose above the pounding of her heart. She pictured the frail old lady, nearly 108 years old, sprawled on the porch swing, her long, wrinkled, tired fingers dragging on the worn planks of wood. Mental and physical exhaustion such a huge shroud over her countenance, she kept her eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge the children sitting on the wooden floor listening to her. Yet she knew they were there. Listening intently to her every word, as if the thoughts she spoke were from a fairytale, no- to her they were a nightmare.
"Those men didn't care. They just pushed them along. Hands and feet bound to the body next to them. Didn't matter if that body was full grown or a child like my ma was. My ma would tell us of the odor of that ship, unclean flesh, salt water, fish, and rotting death. It was somethin' that remained with her 'til the day she died. Said it was burned into every hair hole in her nose. She never forgot the dying and the killing. For two days and nights she was bound to the body of her dead younger sister and those men didn't care. They just pushed them along."
Shuffle-one small step, the breath in her chest tightened and her teeth clinched. The voice of her great great grandmother rose above the pounding of her heart. She pictured the frail old lady, nearly 108 years old, sprawled on the porch swing, her long, wrinkled, tired fingers dragging on the worn planks of wood. Mental and physical exhaustion such a huge shroud over her countenance, she kept her eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge the children sitting on the wooden floor listening to her. Yet she knew they were there. Listening intently to her every word, as if the thoughts she spoke were from a fairytale, no- to her they were a nightmare.
"Those men didn't care. They just pushed them along. Hands and feet bound to the body next to them. Didn't matter if that body was full grown or a child like my ma was. My ma would tell us of the odor of that ship, unclean flesh, salt water, fish, and rotting death. It was somethin' that remained with her 'til the day she died. Said it was burned into every hair hole in her nose. She never forgot the dying and the killing. For two days and nights she was bound to the body of her dead younger sister and those men didn't care. They just pushed them along."
Shuffle- Valerie opened her eyes, peered over and beyond the shoulders of her friends in line in front of her. There weren't really that many people, something was just holding up the line.
"Sure is taking a long time to get in. I didn't think there would be a line or that it would move this slow."
"Gal, relax. What did you expect? Newest club on our side of town. Every body wants to get in."
"Yeah, girl. Relax and move on up." Her best friend since childhood gave her a tiny shove from behind. "It's been a long week. I just wanna dance, maybe grab a warm male body and get the memory of being a damn near slave in that white woman's house, outta my mind."
Shuffle- Valerie moved up the required steps, bent over and brushed the dirt from her shoes. The action bringing to mind her great grandmother's words. She'd taken up the habit of her now gone mother. Sitting on the porch swing, absently telling the children of the family's past. Constantly saying how they needed to honor their legacy. To stop being imitators of the White man.To become their equal or better and not to accept others putting them down. Every once in a while, she'd sip from her ice filled glass of root beer or swat at flies.
"Dear Ma used to tell me of when I was a baby, how she would be sitting on the porch of the White woman's big house, nursing that white baby on her breast, and getting yelled at or slapped for not keeping the flies from landing on that baby's Lily white cheeks- while I would be laying in a box on the ground, crying from the discomfort of dirt, ants and flies on me. My little tummy empty because she wasn't allowed to feed or tend to me while that one was awake.
She said there were many days she wanted to kill that baby.Wanted to kill them all. The woman, while she bathed her as if she were a child and the man, when he would throw her, anywhere- to have his way with her. But most of all, she wanted to kill that baby for taking food from my stomach. I loved Dear Ma."
Shuffle- Valerie ignored the grumbling of her stomach and moved a little to her left so she could see around the line. What she saw pissed her off. Here she was, new dress, hair freshly styled, and standing in line for what, she looked at the face of her watch, twenty minutes? Only to find out the line was being controlled by a couple of overly made up light skinned wenches and an even lighter muscled bound jerk-cute as he was.
"Wait a damn minute? Oh, hell naw!" Valerie moved completely out of line and put her hands on her hips. Stepping aside to let a couple of beautiful dark skinned ladies pass in front of her. Their humiliation written all over their downcast faces. She watched the slump in their backs deepen the further they got away from the line. Speaking loud enough to be heard from the end of the line to the beginning, Valerie pointed towards the trio.
"You mean to tell me, I wasted my hard earned money on a new dress, spent time doin' my hair, dusted up my shoes in this damn line-shuffling like a slave on a death ship, only to find out, I gotta be tested by some uppity niggas, and a worn, greasy, crumpled brown paper bag before I can give them my money,just to hear some loud assed music, I can hear for free at home? You got me mixed up with some fools, niggas." She turned to see all of her friends and what was once an orderly line, peering and angrily joining her rant. But, as usual, some ignorant fool had to comment on the opposite side of the conversation.
"Whatchu complainin' bout? You so white you don't need no bag, you could get your ass right on in there."
"Yeah, but you can't. Why should I get in and others can't? Our money is the same color. So don't get an attitude with me. That's what's wrong with summa y'all, always ready to turn on the ones tryin' to be fair. I know what my family taught me and I'm not about to let some people tell me or my friends we ain't good enough for their beer joint cuz they're darker than a paper bag. I'm not the self hatin, wannabe bougie, they are." She thumbed in the direction of the trio huddled behind the card table at the entrance of the building. "And I'm taking my money somewhere else." She turned and stomped away. Her friends and half the line following.
