Fat’s Chronicles: Fight for Your Rights!

Now listen, I ain’t proud of this one and if you, laugh you just as bad as me.

By this time me and Big John had an apartment at Carver Village in Pascagula, Mississippi. This was in the 1960′s and Dr. King’s mind set and ways had made they way down to Mississippi. People began to see that we wasn’t being treated right and we was tired of it. Soon, marches and rallies started breaking out, which was real dangerous in Mississippi caz they was killing folks who wanted to, you know speak out. But we still kept marching and gathering at the churches. At that time the church was the place to come together and plan. Most of the men in the church would talk about how they would keep the neighborhood safe and everyman would have shifts. People were doing what they could to try to change the way things was. Now in my apartment complex, the land lord heard that some of us was organizing and going to marches. He was a mean old white man. He decided to evict anybody who went to march or protest. I know he had to be payen somebody in that development caz, it seemed like every day, no matter how we snuck, he foud out who was going. We’d come home and see all of people’s stuff all out on the street. That was all most people had caz we ain’t have much, and all they stuff was messed up and some of it got stolen.

I knew I couldn’t do much, but I knew I could do something. I told my friend Sarah to tell that old land lord that me and John had gone to a rally for civil rights. I wanted him to come see me. I had something for him.

I don’t know if you know about those thick wooden closet rods that you hang your clothes on? Well, I got that out the closet, turned out the lights, got in the closet, and waited for him to come. Not to much later I hear the front door crack open. As I waited in the closet, sweat beads gathered on my forehead. I knew I would get in some trouble for what I was bout to do, but something had to be done. I heard him come into the bed room and start moving stuff around. I figured I had to do something to show this man he can’t treat people any old kind of way. I looked down with the little bit of light that came through the crack between the door and the floor. I knew this was it. I lifted the rod. He opened the door. I screamed as loud as I could. “Help!!!!!!! Somebody Help Me!!!! Burglar!! Help me! With every statement screamed I let out a WHOP! upside his head, a BOP! upside his head, a WHAP! upside his head. I beat him like he stole something, or I pretended to think he was going to.

“Mildred! Mildred! What in God’s name do you think your doing women?”

“Oh my Lord, Mr. Smith! Oh my Lord! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“What’s gotten into you! You almost killed me!”

“Oh Lord! I thought you was a robber! I’m home all alone while Big John at work. I heard the door open and got scared for my life. Lord! let me get you some ice!”

“Naw, you can’t get me nothing you crazy fool! I ought a throw you out right now for that!”

“Oh please no Mr. Smith! My Big John worked so hard to get us into a nice place like this. What would your poor wife do if somebody was comen in on her, you’d want her to fight right.”

“Yeah, well I ain’t know I needed to knock! You stay away from me, you hear me. I don’t even want you coming to pay the rent. Tell John to bring it.”

“Thank you sir! I’m so, oh my goodness me.”

He walked out in such a tissy, I could barely wait till he closed the door before I bursted into triumphant laughter. I’m sure he gone think twice for he just go bucking up in somebody’s house.

I know, it was a little violent but I had to fight for my rights.

#Social Justice #Black life #History #nonfiction #storytelling