“I honestly don’t know why you’re so upset.” Michael was starting up again over his sister’s latest rant. “What? You thought a Black man being President was gonna stop racism?”
“You so fuc..”
“Language!” Fae yelled from the front of the car.
“Sorry, Mama,” murmured Tanya before turning her attention back to her brother sitting next to her in the backseat. “You are so freaking ignorant.”
“You know, your dad and I would like to ride in peace if you two don’t mind.”
“No, mama, because he always got something stupid to say.”
“So, because I don’t agree with your politics, I’m stupid?”
Tanya sighed. She would usually laugh Michael’s foolishness off, but this was no laughing matter. How did they live in a world where white people could make drunken negro head cookies and get away with it? How was the store still open?
“What we need to do is protest at the coffee shop. They shouldn’t be allowed to stay open.”
“Here we fucking go.”
“Mike!” Fae reached behind her and hit what part of his leg she could reach. Why their children were so obsessed with using the F bomb, she didn’t know. She and Jo rarely used profanity. “Watch your mouth.”
“Sorry, mama.”
Tanya cut her brother a look. “Idiot,” she whispered.
“What exactly are you upset about?”
Joseph had not spoken since the drive, and Tanya knew that meant he was listening. He was good at that, but this both admired and annoyed her. If he were on her side, he would say something deep and profound, but if he disagreed with her, he would get on his soapbox.
“Dad, I told you. The lady said they make cookies that look like drunken negro heads, and they looked like you!”
Lafayette French Pastry was under controversy and backlash for selling cookies they called “Drunken Negro Heads,” which happened to look like the community’s beloved Joseph McNair. The owner, however, described his actions as a tribute to the new President, which made things much worse. Joseph might be a Civil Rights hero, but Barack Obama was the first African American President of the United States. This caused widespread outrage in the city, and Tanya wanted to be a part of that protest.
Joseph chuckled, “I doubt they made the cookies look like me, sweetheart. Besides, it’s their store. They can do what they want.”
“What? Dad. Drunken negro heads?!”
Michael burst into laughter, and Tanya elbowed him in the ribs.
“Ma, tell her to stop hitting me.”
“Imma hit you both in a minute.”
Joseph turned onto Cynthia’s Street and slowed to a stop in front of her house. He was so proud of his niece. She had been through so much and still came out on top. Tanya, on the other hand, looked at the house with disdain.
Aunt Cynthia was cool except she tried too hard to be Black. At least that’s how Tanya saw it. As the story goes, Cynthia used to be racist or something until she found out Mama Sidney was half-Black. Then, she had to go and get herself a Black husband and started hosting all these random ass get-togethers to talk about shit that could have been said over the phone.
Tanya wasn’t buying it. She shrugged off the thoughts as her father continued talking.
“Look sweepea. If you wanna protest, then protest. No one here is stopping you. Not as much as we marched back in the day, didn’t we, babe?”
Fae smiled and waved her hand, “I’m not in this.”
Joseph chuckled at his wife and returned to his lecture. “Look, do what you gotta do, but take emotion out of it. That’s one of the first things our people learned during our nonviolent protest: how not to be overly emotional.”
“Man, can I get out?”
Michael was already annoyed by the conversation. Wasn’t nobody tryna hear ’bout no nonviolent protest. For nonviolence to work, your opponent must have a conscience, and the United States had none. That’s what Kwame Ture said anyway. Why couldn’t they talk about him? Or brother Malcolm?
Besides, he was anxious to talk to Ebony, the fine chocolate girl who liked him. It was a welcome distraction from thoughts of his real crush. At least with Ebony, no one would question her race. Michael didn’t mind the detour. He had no problem in the dating department. His jet-black curls and hazel eyes drove the girls crazy.
These thoughts were stirring up an urge to drink, and he knew his cousin Noah would hook him up without all the extra talk about him not being of age.
“Yeah, you can go,” said Fae, “Tell your cousin we’ll be in shortly.”
As Michael exited the car, Joseph was still reminiscing. If there was one thing he loved to do, it was tell stories of the old days. “Yeah, we protested alright. Got good and beat up too!”
Tanya folded her arms. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” she sighed as her parents fell into a completely different conversation about spices they couldn’t forget were in the trunk. Aunt Cynthia couldn’t cook either.
Tanya spilled out of the car before she suffocated on her father’s sudden amnesia to the struggle.
The PBS Blog 