A Head of Cabbage

Barbara Johnson

Description

Spanning many decades, this personal narrative shares an account of the everyday life struggles of a black woman and shows her determination to live a life different from those of her ancestors.
Barbara Abbott was eighteen when her father threatened to kill her if she went to school against his will. A sharecropper since he lost his farm in 1956, he needed her on the farm to help plant their annual tobacco crop.
Barbara would often sneak away to school, but her mother would retrieve her before her second class started and return her to the fields. Then, after the workday was over, she studied unassigned chapters hoping that she would not get behind in her class assignments due to absences from school. Her father believed living off the land was the best option for southern black people. He never encouraged his children to seek an education; he saw how education had not helped many black people financially and had an extreme distrust of white people and the government.
Eventually, Barbara got accepted into Bennett College, a predominately black all-girls school, though she left college after her junior year to marry her high school sweetheart. Then, while pregnant, she discovered that her husband was gay and had a lover living next door.
Spanning many decades, this personal narrative shares an account of the everyday life struggles of a black woman and shows her determination to live a life different from those of her ancestors.

Sujets

• Personal Memoirs
• Biography
• Memoir
• Autobiography

Informations

• Publié par: Balboa Press
• Date de parution: 24 juillet 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9798765230299
• Langue: English

Extrait

A HEAD OF CABBAGE
A ME MOIR
 
 
 
BARBARA JOHNSON
 
 
 

 
Copyright © 2022 Barbara Johnson.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
Balboa Press
A Division of Hay House
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.balboapress.com
844-682-1282
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
This book is a work of creative nonfiction. The experiences and details written here are as the author has remembered them. Some names have been changed t o protect the privacy of many individuals.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022911482
ISBN: 979-8-7652-3028-2 (sc)
ISBN: 979-8-7652-3030-5 (hc)
ISBN: 979-8-7652-3029-9 (e)
 
Balboa Press rev. date:  07/18/2022
CONTENTS
Chapter 1The Psychiatrist
Chapter 2Molestation
Chapter 3Two Pieces of Candy
Chapter 4The Blackberry Pie
Chapter 5Pig and the Rooster
Chapter 6Better Off Dead
Chapter 7Education Ain’t Shit for Black People
Chapter 8Put Your Book Down
Chapter 9The Ugly One of the Bunch
Chapter 10Thumbtacks
Chapter 11The Talk
Chapter 12Fifth Grade
Chapter 13Golden Sparks
Chapter 14Shoes
Chapter 15Father and Son
Chapter 16Blanche
Chapter 17We Got to Run
Chapter 18Pick the Poor Robin Clean
Chapter 19Live Off the Land
Chapter 20God Ain’t Helping
Chapter 21It’s Our Responsibility
Chapter 22I Need Another Miracle
Chapter 23The Shotgun
Chapter 24This Is America
Chapter 25Don’t Let Nothing Stop You
Chapter 26This Country Could Be Great
Chapter 27You Can’t Go
Chapter 28You Are Not Brilliant
Chapter 29No One Clapped for Me
Chapter 30In Luck
Chapter 31Four Dollars
Chapter 32Washington, DC
Chapter 33Pregnant and Aunt V
Chapter 34Unhappily Married
Chapter 35Southern Bell
Chapter 36Troubled Water
Chapter 37Your Husband Loves a Man
Chapter 38My Daddy’s Shoes
Chapter 39A Head of Cabbage
Chapter 40The Stalker
Chapter 41A Time to Kill
Chapter 42Mr. Sanchez
Chapter 43I’m Not Afraid
Chapter 44Poochie
Chapter 45You Got a Car
Chapter 46The Chain Gang
Chapter 47Heaven or Hell
Chapter 48I Wanted to Help
Chapter 49Raleigh, North Carolina
Chapter 50Slow Walk to Hell
Chapter 51I’m Not OK
Chapter 52Vengeance Is the Lord’s
Chapter 53No Blood
Chapter 54Leviticus 7:26
Chapter 55Thank You
Chapter 56Shall We Dance?
Chapter 57Twelve Past Midnight
Chapter 58Meimei
Chapter 59We Are Family
Chapter 60Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe
Chapter 61Bad News
Chapter 62Confederate Flag
Chapter 63Gratitude
Chapter 64Make the Call
Chapter 65Black People Need a Psychiatrist
Chapter 66Been in Hell
Chapter 67Ask a Black Man
Chapter 68Made of Gold
Chapter 69Hello, Marilyn
Chapter 70Sit Down for the News
Chapter 71It Feels like Love
Chapter 72Plan a Wedding
Chapter 73Cancer
Chapter 74Man of God
Chapter 75You’re Going to Be Homeless
Chapter 76Forgiveness
Acknowledgments
CHAPTER 1 THE PSYCHIATRIST
H e does not even blink his silvery-gray eyes. “Mrs. Jamison, are you sure of what you are saying?” Dr. Alex asks as I sit in his brightly lit office off South Boulevard in Charlotte, North Carolina.
I reposition my body in the wolf-gray leather armchair and pull my navy-blue A-line skirt down below my knees. I look down at the glossy wooden floor full of scratches and dents.
“Yes, I’m quite sure. I’m going to kill the son of a bitch before this weekend,” I blurt out.
“Who are you going to kill?” Dr. Alex stares me in the face.
I stop breathing for a moment and turn my head away. My throat is tight, and I rub it lightly while looking around the room. The interior has a beautiful dark wood ceiling and knotted paneling throughout. Several paintings and bronze wall sconces grace the walls, as do several certificates of his professional training. A three-drawer wooden filing cabinet stands flush against the north wall, and beside it are a big coffeepot and brown ceramic cups sitting on a drop-leaf walnut table. The aroma of coffee permeates the air. I’m not fond of coffee. I cough a few times before answering.
“I thought I told you. I’m going to kill my ex-boyfriend Steven Harris.”
“Where?” Dr. Alex asks calmly.
“At Riverside Bowling Alley in Danville, Virginia. He bowls there every Thursday night.”
Dr. Alex unbuttons his gray cardigan. His loose-fitting jeans and black tennis shoes give him the appearance of a young schoolteacher. He flips his leather pad open as he walks around the glossy mahogany desk. He swivels his gray leather chair and sits down. His long, slender fingers grab a pen from an old wooden cup sitting next to a picture of a German shepherd. He jots down a word or two; folds his fingers; and, as though we’re talking about the weather, asks me, “How are you going to kill him?”
I lower my head and close my eyes for a few seconds. I try not to cry, but a few tears slide down my cheeks. It’s hard for me to believe that things have come to this in a few short weeks. Now I’m in a psychiatrist’s office.
I take a deep breath, wipe my face with the back of my hand, and lift my head. “I’m going to shoot him fourteen times.”
“Why fourteen?” Dr. Alex asks.
My voice is just a whisper now. “That’s all the bullets my pistol holds.”
Dr. Alex slides a box of Kleenex toward me. I take several and dab my cheeks and eyes.
“I have to report this information to the police if you’re serious,” he says. “They must warn your ex-boyfriend of the danger he’s in.”
“Go ahead and report it. Steven should know what is headed his way,” I say to Dr. Alex as cold chills spread over my body. I tilt my head away from Dr. Alex and hold my right leg to keep it from shaking.
“Why do you want to harm your ex-boyfriend?” Dr. Alex asks.
I stretch out my left arm and poke the middle with my forefinger. “Tell the authorities to put the lethal injection right here. I know that Virginia is a death-penalty state.”
Dr. Alex blinks rapidly and turns the page on his pad. “Before you tell me why you want to harm your ex-boyfriend, I would like to know about your childhood. Start from your earliest memory.”
I want this psychiatrist to talk me out of committing a heinous crime, and he is asking me about my childhood? I wonder if Dr. Alex is worth his fee. I roll my eyes and inhale deeply.
“My earliest memory is seeing a billy goat eat clothes off our clothesline. Mama sent me outside to get firewood for the kitchen stove. The goat frightened me, and I screamed for Daddy. I was scared that the billy goat would eat me.”
“How old were you?” Dr. Alex asks in a soft tone.
“I think I was five, but my brother says we had eaten the goat before I turned five, so I must have been four.”
“What did your father do?”
“Daddy laughed as I screamed, ‘Help me! Daddy, help me! Don’t let the billy goat get me!’ My father stood there watching and laughing as I ran back inside the house.” I do not tell Dr. Alex that I peed myself.
“How does this memory make you feel?” Dr. Alex asks.
“I feel angry and alone, afraid that something bad might happen to me and that nobody will help me or even care. Now you just made me depressed.” I stand up and grab my purse from the floor.
“I would like for you to stay a bit longer.” Dr. Alex glances down at his watch. “You’ve only been with me for seventeen minutes.” He looks up at me. His piercing gray eyes hold a steady gaze. “Let’s try to complete the full session. Would you like a glass of water?”
I sit back down. “OK, I’ll try,” I say as I watch Dr. Alex’s tall frame stand and go into the kitchen. I force myself to stay calm. So far, I feel worse. I don’t want to talk about my childhood. I want to talk about the present and how to feel better.
Dr. Alex returns with a glass of cold water. He sets it on the edge of the table within my reach. “Tell me more about your childhood,” he says again.
I notice that Dr. Alex’s pad is open, and he has a pen in his right hand. We sit quietly across from each other for a moment. Then, finally, I start to speak again, but movement catches my eye. I look through an unshaded window to my right, and a fat red cardinal is sitting on a branch of a blooming Bradford pear. I’m a little superstitious and think the bird is trying to tell me to trust Dr. Alex, although I feel stupid and ashamed in telling him about my personal life. I take the glass of water and drink it all.
“I remember working in tobacco fields from sunrise to sundown. Before I started school, I remember being cold and hungry, hot and hungry—always hungry. I remember the boyfriend of my oldest sister, Blanche, molesting me on the first day of school when I was six years old. I told Blanche what happened, and she stripped me naked and paddled my butt in front of her boyfri