Right As Rain.

a-smile-in-the-rainI dreamt the smell of a thousand crystal clear bombs shattering on the perspex shelter where she waited for the wrong bus with other mid-morning blacks at the end of another riotous night filled with bad old films, great white hope, cheap red wine and the expensive torrent of abuse that almost cost the nightmarish black woman her dream job.

Rain. With every explosion its smell filled her thinking. And now her narrow mind grows on the terrace below because the windows in Köln opened too wide and the smell of April rain mingles with the quietness of her isolation and a sudden explosion of emptiness fills the vacant hotel room.

The subtlety of her snobbery was commendable though immediately detectable in the aching uprightness of her posture. A priestly stance. There was a divinity about her wandering and even the wicked way she always managed to stop her roots from showing every time outrage took her tongue travelling through the wet green hills of St. Andrew.

She stifled her Jamaicaness in clenched toes and red cheeks that burnt with contrived eloquence. The Queen’s English – the tight line of barbed wire along a chicken wire fence; a polite and cleansing precaution protecting first world blacks from their third world homes. A cultural and linguistic suicide.

For those of us who’ve encountered its conniving simplicity, whiteness privilege is a sincere black problem. A slick or spillage of unearned assets in the small sea of blackness. A cultural contaminant. A pollutant of black promise. A disadvantage similar to rain that hits us all but only hurts a few. A place where some dance while others drown.


Filed under Culture.

9 responses to “Right As Rain.

  1. Not wishing to detract from the whole piece but the opening paragraph is one of the most impressive introductions that I have recently read. Fine, expressive, gritty language and theme. Nice work.

  2. I’m never disappointed with your writing. It occurs to me you might take to the stories from the Race Around the World I’m running.


  3. Oh, you came to mind from a comment I just got today. I referred the faithful reader to my old The Writing Process: Color post and to your comment under it.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s