最藍(lán)的眼睛英文電子版

TheBluestEye

by

ToniMorrison

Editingnote:

Thisbookisimpossibletorate.Whilereadingyouwillencounter

textthatrunsalltogetherthisisnotascanningerrororan

editingerrorratheritisthewaythebookwaswritten.

Youwillalsonoticenumerusgrammaticalandspellingerrors

againnotalloftheseareinfacterrorsbutthewayinwhich

thecharactersspeak.

Finallythisbookisformaturereaders.Itisexplicitandhas

subjectmatterthatsomemayfindoffensive,howeveritis

realisticandportraysalifethatmostofuscannotunderstand

orrelateto.

Lastprinting:04/23/02

`:192'HOLT,RINEHARTANDWINSTONNewYork

Allrightsreserved,includingtherighttoreproducethisbook

orportionsthereofinanyform

PublishedsimultaneouslyinCanadabyHolt,RinehartandWinston

ofCanada,Limited

LibraryofCongressCatalogCardNumber79-117270Published,

October,1970

345678910

DesignedbyRichard-GabrielRummonds

ISBN:P-1567-rintedintheUnitedStatesofAmerica

Tothetwowhogavemelifeandtheonewhomademefree

Hereisthehouse.Itisgreenandwhite.Ithasareddoor.It

isverypretty.Hereisthefamily.Mother,Father,Dick,and

Janeliveinthegreen-and-whitehouse.Theyareveryhappy.See

Jane.ShehasareddressShewantstoplay.Whowillplaywith

Jane?Seethecat.Itgoesmeow-meow.Comeandplay.Comeplay

withJane.Thekittenwillnotplay.SeeMother.Motherisvery

nice.Mother,willyouplaywithJane?Motherlaughs.Laugh,

Mother,laugh.SeeFather.Heisbigandstrong.Father,willyou

playwithJane?Fatherissmiling.Smile,Father,smile.Seethe

dog.Bowwowgoesthedog.DoyouwanttoplaywithJane?Seethe

dogrun.Run,dog,run.Look,look.Herecomesafriend.The

friendwillplaywithJane.Theywillplayagoodgame.Play,

Jane,play.

Hereisthehouseitisgreenandwhiteithasareddooritis

veryprettyhereisthefamilymotherfatherdickandjanelive

inthegreen-and-whitehousetheyareveryhappyseejaneshehas

areddressshewantstoplaywhowillplaywithjaneseethecat

itgoesmeow-meowcomeandplaycomeplaywithjanethekitten

willnotplayseemothermotherisverynicemotherwillyouplay

withjanemotherlaughslaughmotherlaughseefatherheisbig

andstrongfatherwillyouplaywithjanefatherissmilingsmile

fathersmileseethedogbowwowgoesthedogdoyouwanttoplay

doyouwanttoplaywithjaneseethedogrunrundogrunlook

lookherecomesafriendthefriendwillplaywithjanetheywill

playagoodgameplayjaneplay

Hereisthehouseitisgreenandwhiteithasareddooritisveryprettyhereisthefa

milymotherfatherdickandjaneliveinthegreenandwhitehousetheyareveryh

appyseejaneshehasareddressshewantstoplaywhowillplaywithjaneseetheca

titgoesmeowmeowcomeandplaycomeplaywithjanethekittenwillnotplays

eemothermotherisverynicemotherwillyouplaywithjanemotherlaughslau

ghmotherlaughseefatherheisbigandstrongfatherwillyouplaywithjanefatherissmilingsmILefathersmileseethedogbowwowgoesthedogdoyouwantto

playdoyouwanttoplaywithjaneseethedogrunrundogrunlooklookherecom

esafriendthefriendwillplaywithjanetheywillplayagoodgameplayjaneplay

Quietasit'skept,therewerenomarigoldsinthefall1941.We

thought,atthetime,thatitwasbecausePecolawashavingher

father'sbabythatthemarigoldsdidnotgrow.Alittle

examinationandmuchlessmelancholywouldhaveprovedtousthat

ourseedswerenottheonlyonesthatdidnotsprout;nobody's

did.Noteventhegardensfrontingthelakeshowedmarigoldsthat

year.Butsodeeplyconcernedwerewewiththehealthandsafe

deliveryofPecola'sbabywecouldthinkofnothingbutourown

magic:ifweplantedtheseeds,andsaidtherightwordsover

them,theywouldblossom,andeverythingwouldbeallright.It

wasalongtimebeforemysisterandIadmittedtoourselvesthat

nogreenwasgoingtospringfromourseeds.Onceweknew,our

guiltwasrelievedonlybyfightsandmutualaccusationsabout

whowastoblame.ForyearsIthoughtmysisterwasright:itwas

myfault.Ihadplantedthemtoofardownintheearth.Itnever

occurredtoeitherofusthattheearthitselfmighthavebeen

unyielding.Wehaddroppedourseedsinourownlittleplotof

blackdirtjustasPecola'sfatherhaddroppedhisseedsinhis

ownplotofblackdirt.Ourinnocenceandfaithwerenomore

productivethanhislustordespair.Whatisclearnowisthatof

allofthathope,fear,lust,love,andgrief,nothingremains

butPecolaandtheunyieldingearth.ChollyBreedloveisdead;

ourinnocencetoo.Theseedsshriveledanddied;herbabytoo.

Thereisreallynothingmoretosay--exceptwhy.Butsincewhyis

difficulttohandle,onemusttakerefugeinhow.

Autumn

Nunsgobyasquietaslust,anddrunkenmenwithsobereyessing

inthelobbyoftheGreekhotel.RosemaryVillanucci,our

next-doorfriendwholivesaboveherfather'scafe,sitsina

1939Buickeatingbreadandbutter.Sherollsdownthewindowto

tellmysisterFriedaandmethatwecan'tcomein.Westareat

her,wantingherbread,butmorethanthatwantingtopokethe

arroganceoutofhereyesandsmashtheprideofownershipthat

curlsherchewingmouth.Whenshecomesoutofthecarwewill

beatherup,makeredmarksonherwhiteskin,andshewillcry

andaskusdowewanthertopullherpantsdown.Wewillsayno.

Wedon'tknowwhatweshouldfeelordoifshedoes,butwhenever

sheasksus,weknowsheisofferingussomethingpreciousand

thatourownpridemustbeassertedbyrefusingtoaccept.School

hasstarted,andFriedaandIgetnewbrownstockingsand

cod-liveroil.Grown-upstalkintired,edgyvoicesaboutZick's

CoalCompanyandtakeusalongintheeveningtotherailroad

trackswherewefillburlapsackswiththetinypiecesofcoal

lyingabout.Laterwewalkhome,glancingbacktoseethegreat

carloadsofslagbeingdumped,redhotandsmoking,intothe

ravinethatskirtsthesteelmill.Thedyingfirelightsthesky

withadullorangeglow.FriedaandIlagbehind,staringatthe

patchofcolorsurroundedbyblack.Itisimpossiblenottofeel

ashiverwhenourfeetleavethegravelpathandsinkintothe

deadgrassinthefield.Ourhouseisold,cold,andgreen.At

nightakerosenelamplightsonelargeroom.Theothersare

bracedindarkness,peopledbyroachesandmice.Adultsdonot

talktous--theygiveusdirections.Theyissueorderswithout

providinginformation.Whenwetripandfalldowntheyglanceat

us;ifwecutorbruiseourselves,theyaskusarewe

crazy.Whenwecatchcolds,theyshaketheirheadsindisgustat

ourlackofconsideration.How,theyaskus,doyouexpect

anybodytogetanythingdoneifyouallaresick?Wecannot

answerthem.Ourillnessistreatedwithcontempt,foulBlack

Draught,andcastoroilthatbluntsourminds.When,onaday

afteratriptocollectcoal,Icoughonce,loudly,through

bronchialtubesalreadypackedtightwithphlegm,mymother

frowns."GreatJesus.Getoninthatbed.HowmanytimesdoI

havetotellyoutowearsomethingonyourhead?Youmustbethe

biggestfoolinthistown.Frieda?Getsomeragsandstuffthat

window."Friedarestuffsthewindow.Itrudgeofftobed,fullof

guiltandself-pity.Iliedowninmyunderwear,themetalinmy

blackgartershurtsmylegs,butIdonottakethemoff,forit

istoocoldtoliestockingless.Ittakesalongtimeformybody

toheatitsplaceinthebed.OnceIhavegeneratedasilhouette

ofwarmth,Idarenotmove,forthereisacoldplaceone-half

inchinanydirection.NoonespeakstomeoraskshowIfeel.In

anhourortwomymothercomes.Herhandsarelargeandrough,

andwhensherubstheVickssalveonmychest,Iamrigidwith

pain.Shetakestwofingers'fullofitatatime,andmassages

mychestuntilIamfaint.JustwhenIthinkIwilltipoverinto

ascream,shescoopsoutalittleofthesalveonherforefinger

andputsitinmymouth,tellingmetoswallow.Ahotflannelis

wrappedaboutmyneckandchest.Iamcoveredupwithheavy

quiltsandorderedtosweat,whichIdo--promptly.LaterIthrow

up,andmymothersays,"Whatdidyoupukeonthebedclothes

for?Don'tyouhavesenseenoughtoholdyourheadoutthebed?

Now,lookwhatyoudid.YouthinkIgottimefornothingbut

washingupyourpuke?"Thepukeswaddlesdownthepillowontothe

sheet--green-gray,withflecksoforange.Itmoveslikethe

insidesofanuncookedegg.Stubbornlyclingingtoitsownmass,

refusingtobreakupandberemoved.How,Iwonder,canitbeso

neatandnastyatthesametime?Mymother'svoicedroneson.She

isnottalkingtome.Sheis

talkingtothepuke,butsheiscallingitmyname:Claudia.She

wipesitupasbestshecanandputsascratchytoweloverthe

largewetplace.Iliedownagain.Theragshavefallenfromthe

windowcrack,andtheairiscold.Idarenotcallherbackand

amreluctanttoleavemywarmth.Mymother'sangerhumiliatesme;

herwordschafemycheeks,andIamcrying.Idonotknowthat

sheisnotangryatme,butatmysickness.Ibelieveshe

despisesmyweaknessforlettingthesickness"takeholt."Byand

byIwillnotgetsick;Iwillrefuseto.ButfornowIam

crying.IknowIammakingmoresnot,butIcan'tstop.Mysister

comesin.Hereyesarefullofsorrow.Shesingstome:"Whenthe

deeppurplefallsoversleepygardenwalls,someonethinksofme.

..."Idoze,thinkingofplums,walls,and"someone."Butwasit

reallylikethat?AspainfulasIremember?Onlymildly.Or

rather,itwasaproductiveandfructifyingpain.Love,thickand

darkasAlagasyrup,easedupintothatcrackedwindow.Icould

smellit--tasteit--sweet,musty,withanedgeofwintergreenin

itsbase--everywhereinthathouse.Itstuck,alongwithmy

tongue,tothefrostedwindowpanes.Itcoatedmychest,along

withthesalve,andwhentheflannelcameundoneinmysleep,the

clear,sharpcurvesofairoutlineditspresenceonmythroat.

Andinthenight,whenmycoughingwasdryandtough,feetpadded

intotheroom,handsrepinnedtheflannel,readjustedthequilt,

andrestedamomentonmyforehead.SowhenIthinkofautumn,I

thinkofsomebodywithhandswhodoesnotwantmetodie.

ItwasautumntoowhenMr.Henrycame.Ourroomer.Ourroomer.

Thewordsballoonedfromthelipsandhoveredaboutour

heads--silent,separate,andpleasantlymysterious.Mymotherwas

alleaseandsatisfactionindiscussinghiscoming."Youknow

him,"shesaidtoherfriends."HenryWashington.He'sbeen

livingovertherewithMissDeliaJonesonThirteenthStreet.But

she'stooaddlednowtokeepup.Sohe'slookingforanother

place."

"Oh,yes."Herfriendsdonothidetheircuriosity."Ibeen

wonderinghowlonghewasgoingtostayuptherewithher.They

sayshe'srealbadoff.Don'tknowwhoheishalfthetime,and

nobodyelse.""Well,thatoldcrazyniggershemarriedupwith

didn'thelpherheadnonq.""Didyouhearwhathetoldfolkswhen

helefther?""Uh-uh.What?""Well,herunoffwiththattrifling

Peggy--fromElyria.Youknow.""OneofOldSlackBessie'sgirls?"

"That'stheone.Well,somebodyaskedhimwhyheleftanicegood

churchwomanlikeDeliaforthatheifer.YouknowDeliaalways

didkeepagoodhouse.Andhesaidthehonest-to-Godrealreason

washecouldn'ttakenomoreofthatvioletwaterDeliaJones

used.Saidhewantedawomantosmelllikeawoman.SaidDelia

wasjusttoocleanforhim.""Olddog.Ain'tthatnasty!""You

tellingme.Whatkindofreasoningisthat?""Nokind.Somemen

justdogs.""Isthatwhatgiveherthemstrokes?""Musthave

helped.Butyouknow,noneofthemgirlswasn'ttoobright.

RememberthatgrinningHattie?Shewasn'tneverright.Andtheir

AuntieJuliaisstilltrottingupanddownSixteenthStreet

talkingtoherself.""Didn'tshegetputaway?""Naw.County

wouldn'ttakeher.Saidshewasn'tharminganybody.""Well,she's

harmingme.Youwantsomethingtoscarethelivingshitoutof

you,yougetupatfive-thirtyinthemorninglikeIdoandsee

thatoldhagfloatingbyinthatbonnet.Havemercy!"Theylaugh.

FriedaandIarewashingMasonjars.Wedonotheartheirwords,

butwithgrown-upswelistentoandwatchoutfortheirvoices.

"Well,Ihopedon'tnobodyletmeroamaroundlikethatwhenI

getsenile.It'sashame.""WhattheygoingtodoaboutDelia?

Don'tshehavenopeople?""Asister'scomingupfromNorth

Carolinatolookafterher.Iexpectshewantstogetaholtof

Delia'shouse.""Oh,comeon.That'saevilthought,ifeverI

heardone.""Whatyouwanttobet?HenryWashingtonsaidthat

sisterain'tseenDeliainfifteenyears.""Ikindofthought

Henrywouldmarryheroneofthesedays.""Thatoldwoman?"

"Well,Henryain'tnochicken.""No,butheain'tnobuzzard,

either.""Heeverbeenmarriedtoanybody?""No.""Howcome?

Somebodycutitoff?""He'sjustpicky.""Heain'tpicky.Yousee

anythingaroundhereyou'dmarry?""Well...no.""He'sjust

sensible.Asteadyworkerwithquietways.Ihopeitworksout

allright.""Itwill.Howmuchyoucharging?""Fivedollarsevery

twoweeks.""That'llbeabighelptoyou.""I'llsay."

Theirconversationislikeagentlywickeddance:soundmeets

sound,curtsies,shimmies,andretires.Anothersoundentersbut

isupstagedbystillanother:thetwocircleeachotherandstop.

Sometimestheirwordsmoveinloftyspirals;othertimesthey

takestridentleaps,andallofitispunctuatedwithwarm-pulsed

laughter--likethethrobofaheartmadeofjelly.Theedge,the

curl,

thethrustoftheiremotionsisalwayscleartoFriedaandme.We

donot,cannot,knowthemeaningsofalltheirwords,forweare

nineandtenyearsold.Sowewatchtheirfaces,theirhands,

theirfeet,andlistenfortruthintimbre.SowhenMr.Henry

arrivedonaSaturdaynight,wesmelledhim.Hesmelled

wonderful.Liketreesandlemonvanishingcream,andNuNileHair

OilandflecksofSenSen.Hesmiledalot,showingsmalleven

teethwithafriendlygapinthemiddle.FriedaandIwerenot

introducedtohim--merelypointedout.Like,hereisthe

bathroom;theclothesclosetishere;andthesearemykids,

FriedaandClaudia;watchoutforthiswindow;itdon'topenall

theway.Welookedsidewaysathim,sayingnothingandexpecting

himtosaynothing.Justtonod,ashehaddoneattheclothes

closet,acknowledgingourexistence.Tooursurprise,hespoketo

us."Hellothere.YoumustbeGretaGarbo,andyoumustbeGinger

Rogers."Wegiggled.Evenmyfatherwasstartledintoasmile.

"Wantapenny?"Heheldoutashinycointous.Friedalowered

herhead,toopleasedtoanswer.Ireachedforit.Hesnappedhis

thumbandforefinger,andthepennydisappeared.Ourshockwas

lacedwithdelight.Wesearchedalloverhim,pokingourfingers

intohissocks,lookinguptheinsidebackofhiscoat.If

happinessisanticipationwithcertainty,wewerehappy.And

whilewewaitedforthecointoreappear,weknewwewereamusing

MamaandDaddy.Daddywassmiling,andMama'seyeswentsoftas

theyfollowedourhandswanderingoverMr.Henry'sbody.Weloved

him.Evenafterwhatcamelater,therewasnobitternessinour

memoryofhim.

Shesleptinthebedwithus.Friedaonthe

outsidebecausesheisbrave--itneveroccurstoherthatifin

hersleepherhandhangsovertheedgeofthebed"something"

willcrawloutfromunderitandbite

herfingersoff.Isleepnearthewallbecausethatthoughthas

occurredtome.Pecola,therefore,hadtosleepinthemiddle.

Mamahadtoldustwodaysearlierthata"case"wascoming--agirl

whohadnoplacetogo.Thecountyhadplacedherinourhouse

forafewdaysuntiltheycoulddecidewhattodo,or,more

precisely,untilthefamilywasreunited.Weweretobeniceto

herandnotfight.Mamadidn'tknow"whatgotintopeople,"but

thatoldDogBreedlovehadburneduphishouse,goneupsidehis

wife'shead,andeverybody,asaresult,wasoutdoors.Outdoors,

weknew,wastherealterroroflife.Thethreatofbeing

outdoorssurfacedfrequentlyinthosedays.Everypossibilityof

excesswascurtailedwithit.Ifsomebodyatetoomuch,hecould

endupoutdoors.Ifsomebodyusedtoomuchcoal,hecouldendup

outdoors.Peoplecouldgamblethemselvesoutdoors,drink

themselvesoutdoors.Sometimesmothersputtheirsonsoutdoors,

andwhenthathappened,regardlessofwhatthesonhaddone,all

sympathywaswithhim.Hewasoutdoors,andhisownfleshhad

doneit.Tobeputoutdoorsbyalandlordwasone

thing--unfortunate,butanaspectoflifeoverwhichyouhadno

control,sinceyoucouldnotcontrolyourincome.Buttobeslack

enoughtoputoneselfoutdoors,orheartlessenoughtoputone's

ownkinoutdoors--thatwascriminal.Thereisadifferencebetween

beingputoutandbeingputoutdoors.Ifyouareputout,yougo

somewhereelse;ifyouareoutdoors,thereisnoplacetogo.The

distinctionwassubtlebutfinal.Outdoorswastheendof

something,anirrevocable,physicalfact,definingand

complementingourmetaphysicalcondition.Beingaminorityin

bothcasteandclass,wemovedaboutanywayonthehemoflife,

strugglingtoconsolidateourweaknessesandhangon,ortocreep

singlyupintothemajorfoldsofthegarment.Ourperipheral

existence,however,wassomethingwehadlearnedtodeal

with--probablybecauseitwasabstract.Buttheconcretenessof

beingoutdoorswasanothermatter--likethedifferencebetween

theconceptofdeathandbeing,infact,dead.Deaddoesn't

change,andoutdoorsisheretostay.

Knowingthattherewassuchathingasoutdoorsbredinusa

hungerforproperty,forownership.Thefirmpossessionofa

yard,aporch,agrapearbor.Propertiedblackpeoplespentall

theirenergies,alltheirlove,ontheirnests.Likefrenzied,

desperatebirds,theyoverdecoratedeverything;fussedand

fidgetedovertheirhard-wonhomes;canned,jellied,and

preservedallsummertofillthecupboardsandshelves;they

painted,picked,andpokedateverycorneroftheirhouses.And

thesehousesloomedlikehothousesunflowersamongtherowsof

weedsthatweretherentedhouses.Rentingblackscastfurtive

glancesattheseownedyardsandporches,andmadefirmer

commitmentstobuythemselves"somenicelittleoldplace."In

themeantime,theysaved,andscratched,andpiledawaywhatthey

couldintherentedhovels,lookingforwardtothedayof

property.ChollyBreedlove,then,arentingblack,havingputhis

familyoutdoors,hadcatapultedhimselfbeyondthereachesof

humanconsideration.Hehadjoinedtheanimals;was,indeed,an

olddog,asnake,arattynigger.Mrs.Breedlovewasstayingwith

thewomansheworkedfor;theboy,Sammy,waswithsomeother

family;andPecolawastostaywithus.Chollywasinjail.She

camewithnothing.Nolittlepaperbagwiththeotherdress,ora

nightgown,ortwopairofwhitishcottonbloomers.Shejust

appearedwithawhitewomanandsatdown.Wehadfuninthosefew

daysPecolawaswithus.FriedaandIstoppedfightingeachother

andconcentratedonourguest,tryinghardtokeepherfrom

feelingoutdoors.Whenwediscoveredthatsheclearlydidnot

wanttodominateus,welikedher.ShelaughedwhenIclownedfor

her,andsmiledandacceptedgracefullythefoodgiftsmysister

gaveher."Wouldyoulikesomegrahamcrackers?""Idon'tcare."

Friedabroughtherfourgrahamcrackersonasaucerandsomemilk

inablue-and-whiteShirleyTemplecup.Shewasalongtimewith

themilk,andgazedfondlyatthesilhouetteofShirleyTemple's

dimpled

face.Friedaandshehadalovingconversationabouthowcu-ute

ShirleyTemplewas.Icouldn'tjointhemintheiradoration

becauseIhatedShirley.Notbecauseshewascute,butbecause

shedancedwithBojangles,whowasmyfriend,myuncle,mydaddy,

andwhooughttohavebeensoft-shoeingitandchucklingwithme.

Insteadhewasenjoying,sharing,givingalovelydancething

withoneofthoselittlewhitegirlswhosesocksneversliddown

undertheirheels.SoIsaid,"IlikeJaneWithers."Theygaveme

apuzzledlook,decidedIwasincomprehensible,andcontinued

theirreminiscingaboutoldsquint-eyedShirley.Youngerthan

bothFriedaandPecola,Ihadnotyetarrivedattheturning

pointinthedevelopmentofmypsychewhichwouldallowmeto

loveher.WhatIfeltatthattimewasunsulliedhatred.But

beforethatIhadfeltastranger,morefrighteningthingthan

hatredforalltheShirleyTemplesoftheworld.Ithadbegun

withChristmasandthegiftofdolls.Thebig,thespecial,the

lovinggiftwasalwaysabig,blue-eyedBabyDoll.Fromthe

cluckingsoundsofadultsIknewthatthedollrepresentedwhat

theythoughtwasmyfondestwish.Iwasbemusedwiththething

itself,andthewayitlooked.WhatwasIsupposedtodowithit?

PretendIwasitsmother?Ihadnointerestinbabiesorthe

conceptofmotherhood.Iwasinterestedonlyinhumansmyownage

andsize,andcouldnotgenerateanyenthusiasmattheprospect

ofbeingamother.Motherhoodwasoldage,andotherremote

possibilities.Ilearnedquickly,however,whatIwasexpectedto

dowiththedoll:rockit,fabricatestoriedsituationsaround

it,evensleepwithit.Picturebookswerefulloflittlegirls

sleepingwiththeirdolls.RaggedyAnndollsusually,butthey

wereoutofthequestion.Iwasphysicallyrevoltedbyand

secretlyfrightenedofthoseroundmoroniceyes,thepancake

face,andorangewormshair.Theotherdolls,whichweresupposed

tobringmegreatpleasure,succeededindoingquitethe

opposite.WhenItookittobed,itshardunyieldinglimbs

resistedmyflesh--thetaperedfingertipsonthose

dimpledhandsscratched.If,insleep,Iturned,thebone-cold

headcollidedwithmyown.Itwasamostuncomfortable,patently

aggressivesleepingcompanion.Toholditwasnomorerewarding.

Thestarchedgauzeorlaceonthecottondressirritatedany

embrace.Ihadonlyonedesire:todismemberit.Toseeofwhat

itwasmade,todiscoverthedearness,tofindthebeauty,the

desirabilitythathadescapedme,butapparentlyonlyme.Adults,

oldergirls,shops,magazines,newspapers,windowsigns--allthe

worldhadagreedthatablue-eyed,yellow-haired,pink-skinned

dollwaswhateverygirlchildtreasured."Here,"theysaid,

"thisisbeautiful,andifyouareonthisday'worthy'youmay

haveit."Ifingeredtheface,wonderingatthesingle-stroke

eyebrows;pickedatthepearlyteethstuckliketwopianokeys

betweenredbowlinelips.Tracedtheturned-upnose,pokedthe

glassyblueeyeballs,twistedtheyellowhair.Icouldnotlove

it.ButIcouldexamineittoseewhatitwasthatalltheworld

saidwaslovable.Breakoffthetinyfingers,bendtheflatfeet,

loosenthehair,twisttheheadaround,andthethingmadeone

sound--asoundtheysaidwasthesweetandplaintivecry"Mama,"

butwhichsoundedtomelikethebleatofadyinglamb,or,more

precisely,ouriceboxdooropeningonrustyhingesinJuly.

Removethecoldandstupideyeball,itwouldbleatstill,

"Ahhhhhh,"takeoffthehead,shakeoutthesawdust,crackthe

backagainstthebrassbedrail,itwouldbleatstill.Thegauze

backwouldsplit,andIcouldseethediskwithsixholes,the

secretofthesound.Ameremetalroundness.Grownpeoplefrowned

andfussed:"You-don'tknowhowto-takecareof-nothing.

I-neverhadababydollinmywholelifeandused-tocrymyeyesoutfor-them.

Now-yougotoneabeautifuloneand-youtearitupwhat'sthematterwith-you?"Howstrongwastheiroutrage.Tearsthreatenedtoerasethe

aloofnessoftheirauthority.Theemotionofyearsofunfulfilled

longingpreenedintheirvoices.IdidnotknowwhyIdestroyed

thosedolls.ButIdidknowthatnobodyeveraskedmewhatI

wantedforChristmas.Hadanyadultwiththepowertofulfillmy

desirestakenme

seriouslyandaskedmewhatIwanted,theywouldhaveknownthat

Ididnotwanttohaveanythingtoown,ortopossessanyobject.

IwantedrathertofeelsomethingonChristmasday.Thereal

questionwouldhavebeen,"DearClaudia,whatexperiencewould

youlikeonChristmas?"Icouldhavespokenup,"Iwanttositon

thelowstoolinBigMama'skitchenwithmylapfulloflilacs

andlistentoBigPapaplayhisviolinformealone."Thelowness

ofthestoolmadeformybody,thesecurityandwarmthofBig

Mama'skitchen,thesmellofthelilacs,thesoundofthemusic,

and,sinceitwouldbegoodtohaveallofmysensesengaged,the

tasteofapeach,perhaps,afterward.InsteadItastedand

smelledtheacridnessoftinplatesandcupsdesignedfortea

partiesthatboredme.InsteadIlookedwithloathingonnew

dressesthatrequiredahatefulbathinagalvanizedzinctub

beforewearing.Slippingaroundonthezinc,notimetoplayor

soak,forthewaterchilledtoofast,notimetoenjoyone's

nakedness,onlytimetomakecurtainsofsoapywatercareendown

betweenthelegs.Thenthescratchytowelsandthedreadfuland

humiliatingabsenceofdirt.Theirritable,unimaginative

cleanliness.Gonetheinkmarksfromlegsandface,allmy

creationsandaccumulationsofthedaygone,andreplacedby

goosepimples.Idestroyedwhitebabydolls.Butthedismembering

ofdollswasnotthetruehorror.Thetrulyhorrifyingthingwas

thetransferenceofthesameimpulsestolittlewhitegirls.The

indifferencewithwhichIcouldhaveaxedthemwasshakenonlyby

mydesiretodoso.Todiscoverwhateludedme:thesecretofthe

magictheyweavedonothers.Whatmadepeoplelookatthemand

say,"Awwwww,"butnotforme?Theeyeslideofblackwomenas

theyapproachedthemonthestreet,andthepossessivegentleness

oftheirtouchastheyhandledthem.IfIpinchedthem,their

eyes--unlikethecrazedglintofthebabydoll'seyes--wouldfold

inpain,andtheircrywouldnotbethesoundofaniceboxdoor,

butafascinatingcryofpain.WhenIlearnedhowrepulsivethis

disinterestedviolencewas,thatitwasrepulsivebecause

itwasdisinterested,myshameflounderedaboutforrefuge.The

besthidingplacewaslove.Thustheconversionfrompristine

sadismtofabricatedhatred,tofraudulentlove.Itwasasmall

steptoShirleyTemple.Ilearnedmuchlatertoworshipher,just

asIlearnedtodelightincleanliness,knowing,evenasI

learned,thatthechangewasadjustmentwithoutimprovement.

"Threequartsofmilk.That'swhatwasinthaticeboxyesterday.

Threewholequarts.Nowtheyain'tnone.Notadrop.Idon'tmind

folkscominginandgettingwhattheywant,butthreequartsof

milk!Whatthedevildoesanybodyneedwiththreequartsof

milk?"The"folks"mymotherwasreferringtowasPecola.The

threeofus,Pecola,Frieda,andI,listenedtoherdownstairsin

thekitchenfussingabouttheamountofmilkPecolahaddrunk.We

knewshe