The Mind As A Slave

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  • Published: 12 Feb 2018
  • Updated: 22 Feb 2018
  • Status: Complete
All my life, I've been a slave since I was fifteen.
Then, age fifty, and I'm still livin' the same life.

Now, age ninety, and I'm able to tell my story.
This is my mind as a slavery.

A story for Black History Month.
I dedicate this story to my father. Love you, Daddy!


10. Mama Plaine/Act Like A Woman

"Stop yo cryin'," Mama Plaine said to me.
She was a slave, just like me.
Her slave name was Plaine,
but she told all of us to call her Mama Plaine.
She was the elderly slave- the oldest slave there.

"Stop yo cryin' right now." She would say to me when
I was first there.

"You cryin' like you just got shot."
She'd grab me by the arm to 
sit me up.

"I feel like I just got shot, old woman,"
I'd spit back.

"Look at me, child."
When I wouldn't, she'd grab me by the chin to make eye-contact.

"Look at Mama Plaine, girl."
When I finally looked at her, it almost seemed like there was
a spark in her eyes.

"You ain't gone see yo chilren," she'd say.
"And you ain't gone see them by hollerin' like that.

You is a grown woman. 
Now get up off yo butt and act like one."

Mama Plaine was the closest I had to family.
And when she died, I felt like I was shot again.

"Stop cryin', Beck," the slaves would say while
I'd just rock myself at night, cryin', asking the Lord to bring 
Mama Plaine back.

"She gone, Beck.
She ain't comin' back."

Whenever I'd close my eyes, I'd see her grabbin' my chin
and gettin' in my face with the same spark in her eyes.

"Stop yo cryin', girl and act like a woman."

Act like a woman.

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