I am back from the dead! Sorry for taking so long to update, but I certainly did better than last time. This one was written in a few minutes becauseI really felt like I owed you guys something. Sorry if it's not up to scale with the others, but I like it personally... Anyway to my readers:
To my anonymous reviewer "curves, cornrolls, a..." I would like to say, go ahead and perform the monologue. It's actually very flattering, I didn't expect this play to be performed at all. To everyone else, thank you very much for your support, I'm glad I could reach so many people. Now without further adieu...
Act 1 Scene 3 - Tired
Man: (in the darkness) What the hell do these boys think they're doing?
A spotlight shines on an old black man standing center stage. He looks to be about in his sixties, and he stares out at the crowd accusingly. He continues in a booming voice—
Acting like a sista ain't good enough for them anymore! I otta smack some sense into their nappy heads. Running around like fools. Can you believe it? Back in the day we wouldn't look at the white man's ugly ho, now we're having babies by them left and right. Left and right, right and left – just popping out of them like nobody's business.
(mocking) "It's a sign of change!" "It's a beautiful thing!" Beautiful (snorting sound)
I'll show you beautiful.
(suddenly tender) Ever seen a black woman at night, her skin glowing in the light, smooth and delicious like dark chocolate? Watching the way her body curves and bends in the light, shadows hiding those places you know we all want to see… (shivering) I'm going crazy just thinking about it.
White women! (snorts) White women! That's a pact with the devil, a pact with the devil I tell you! Shove us into their freaking back holes, and dirt hills, treating us like we're some subservient Uncle Tom that ain't got no sense. Then we take it and think we're getting back at them by getting their women as well. Our race is dying out you fools. Our race is dying out! Just because you want to get back at the white man, our race is dying?
Your daughters ain't gonna get no man, you realize. Have black, half black. Half white indeed, but the way you fools are acting half white ain't enough. You want whole white! And your sons are gonna want whole, and their sons, and their sons, and their sons…. And your daughters are gonna die alone 'cause they aren't beautiful enough. Because they got skin that shines in the moon like dark chocolate, curves of shadow, lips and eyes like an African.
Ain't you seen it, ain't you seen it? On TV the black man no longer has a black wife, and if he does she's so light it's questionable. Why ain't she dark no more? Why ain't she dark no more? I'll tell you why. Because the white man's playing his trick on you! Don't you see it? You think -I say -youthink you're getting the last laugh. Last laugh indeed. (bitter laugh) Last laugh…indeed.
Your sons and your sons and your sons and your sons, in the white woman in the white woman in the white woman in the white woman… what's that gonna make in the end. He's half white, then his kids three-quarters white, and then his kids seven-eighths white and then what next - what next? It's all gonna disappear. They'll say, "A long, long, long, long time ago my ancestors were slaves, but it don't matter no more, I ain't black."
And your daughters'll say "A long, long, long, long, long time ago, I used to beautiful." Or maybe far enough down the line when they no longer black either they can start speaking like their brothers. (snort) Brothers! Ain't no brothers no more. Blacks is dead, blacks is dead. Wouldn't be so bad if whites was dead to. Wouldn't be so bad… But they always gonna be around. Why? Cause white is beautiful and blacks is dead!
Keep it up. Go ahead, keep – it – up. I don't care no more. I'll be dead then too. I want to die so I don't have to watch my daughters and my nieces and my grand nieces and granddaughters watching from the sidelines. Granddaughters and grand nieces, is it even possible now? If some other man will step in it is, but they ain't, they won't, and they only did it when they had the advantage. (aside) That means slaves.
(steady crescendo) We dead, we dead, we dead! Dead, dead, dead! I'm dead, I'm dying, my heart is breaking. I'll pluck out my eyes, pluck them right outta my head. Just right on out. I'd rather be blind and see nothing but black, I wanna see nothing but black.
(suddenly fatigued)I'm tired – I said I'm tired – tired, tired, tired, tired, tired, of seeing the white standing next to it.
Scene Notes: Bet I surprised you with this one. Rather than taking it from the perspective of a man all for interracial dating, or a black woman completely out of the loop I go to the more ignored side, the man who hates it with a passion. This guy was bugging me for a while, "When are you going to write my monologue? When are you going to write my monolgue?" So I finally did it and I'm really happy with the results. Once again, I don't completely agree with what my character is saying. I am all for interracial relationships as I've said before, just a little distrubed by the ratios.
What I liked in particular about this monologue was his way of talking, mostly the repetition of words. It went very well, extremely close to what I heard in my mind. Unfortunately this repetition made for awkward punctuation so it might be hard to read at times. Sorry about that. I didn't like things about this piece too: his hatred of white people, his complete aversion to interracial relationships, the obvious pessimism. What'smost disturbing is that he came extremely close to beinglabeled a dirty old man.But that's what the character is and I have no right to change him, so that's how it's going to be. I just think it's very interesting that this perspective made it into my piece, I wasn't even planning on it at all. But I like it now that it's here.