For Colored Boys Who Have Considered “for colored girls…”

In 2009, I was asked to contribute an essay to the 2009 Writers Guild of America East Awards book. The theme was “Provoking Thought: Words That Made a Difference” and I decided to write about words that have never lost their power to turn me inside out. 
____________________________________________

When I was a freshman in college, I was involved in a theater group called The New Directional Players. Our director announced that we were going to put on a production of Ntozake Shange’s for colored girls who have considered suicide/ when the rainbow is enuf. I nodded knowingly, pretending that I was familiar with the play because, well, pretending to know more than I knew was one of my main campus activities.

However, when the first of the women began to read lines, I had to stop acting as if this was all old hat to me. I grabbed the sides of my chair as if it was in danger of taking off. I was electrified, but not by the acting. No disrespect to the actors, but what had me jazzed were Shange’s words. I flipped through the pages of the script, eager to speak the words for myself.

And then, slowly, I realized that there were no male roles in the play. Yes, the title should have been a give-away, but I’d missed it. As it turned out, the play had seven meaty roles for seven colored girls but not a single colored boy could be found anywhere. Dang! These were words I wanted to read. This was a world I wanted to step into. Not because I’d ever run away from home with Toussaint L’Ouverture or spent graduation night losing my virginity in the back of a Buick. Those stories weren’t my stories, but they were so real and urgent, they were like slaps across your face. Pouring over the pages I would never get to read, I recognized honesty – and realized how seldom you actually get to hear it.

And not for the last time, I realized I was not the demographic.

The men in the group were rehearsing some other piece I can’t recall for the life of me. Taking a break from our rehearsal, we sat and watched while the ladies in brown, yellow, purple, red, green, blue and orange read their lines. The director paced in the back of the room, then marched up to the women, pointing a dissatisfied finger at the lady in red. The director was becoming increasingly frustrated trying to explain what was supposed to be going on emotionally inside the character. I leaned forward listening, thinking yes, yes, what’s going on inside the character. To be honest, I don’t recall how I ended up on stage, whether the director asked for volunteers or if I was really that bold, but all I know is for a moment I was standing in front of everyone reading lady in red. And not just any ol’ lady in red monologue; I was reading the Beau Willie Brown monologue. Yes, I was. I got to stand up and clutch at the air while shiftless Beau Willie dropped my babies out of my tenement window. You have to take my word for it; you would’ve been weeping.

Seeing my enthusiasm, some of the older brothers felt obliged to take me aside to explain that for colored girls… was an attack on the black man. They walked me through the demonizing images and emasculating agenda but I was too far-gone. I had fallen head over heels for those lowercase letters, that bebop syntax, the narrative so powerful I could accurately claim this woman who was nothing like me could speak for me.

Actually, I have a dream.

An all-male version of for colored girls… No one’s in drag. No one’s pretending to be a woman. Everyone’s just living the lines and wearing rainbow colored shirts (a guayabera, a muscle-t, a button-down oxford, etc.). Don Cheadle will be the gentleman in yellow. Mos Def will be the gentleman in purple. Taye Diggs will be the gentlemen in green. Forest Whitaker will be the gentleman in brown. Anthony Anderson will be the gentleman in orange. Terrence Howard will be the gentleman in blue. And needless to say, I will be the gentleman in red.

And after the laying on of hands, we will sing about how we found God in ourselves and loved her fiercely.

You will be weeping.

Advertisements

About 100strings

Rodney is a storyteller who works in children's television and is an educator who works at the University of North Carolina, Charlotte and at The Light Factory, the Contemporary Museum of Photography and Film, Charlotte.
This entry was posted in Essays. Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to For Colored Boys Who Have Considered “for colored girls…”

  1. Just today I was thinking about all these little girls who consider themselves “tomboys” and identify with male characters because things for boys are seen as cooler. That doesn’t in reverse for the most part. Whenever we want a woman to seem really strong we make her more masculine. Characters like Ripley from Alien are awesome in their own right, but it’s like there isn’t really a uniquely feminine version of “cool” established just yet. Your reaction to this is what I’m striving for with all my female leads from now on — a girl so cool that boys wish that they could be her.

  2. Jason Rosas says:

    Oooo, that was good…

  3. Gee says:

    Pitch-perfect!
    I will also confirm one would have wept at the lady in red reading; brother WORKED it.

  4. Roomy says:

    Okay, I’m just catching up to these blogs and I’m blown away!! Beau Willie “worked it” indeed, but I too remember the jealously we felt as being mere urban street fodder to the rainbow coalition of New Directionals. Keep blogging roomy – I’m lovin’ it!!

  5. Marsha Jones says:

    Rod: This brings back so many memories from freshmen year. I say if you want that experience you have so much talent… make it happen. Craft your own version, I would stand in line to see it. You can do it!!! And I would be delighted to write the review.

  6. Kathy Jones says:

    I would be right there with Marsha, standing in line to see it too! Get to work, Mr. Stringfellow. Where is your firs draft?

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