scope 2009-FINAL.qxd_scope06Final.qxd - SIU School of Medicine
scope 2009-FINAL.qxd_scope06Final.qxd - SIU School of Medicine
scope 2009-FINAL.qxd_scope06Final.qxd - SIU School of Medicine
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Face to Face<br />
12 SCOPE <strong>2009</strong><br />
(Upon seeing the cover <strong>of</strong> Roberta Senechal de la Roche’s book:<br />
“In Lincoln’s Shadow: The 1908 Race Riot <strong>of</strong> Springfield, Illinois”)<br />
I never want to meet this person alone, and face to face!<br />
This is the face, sinister, prideful and unapologetic that forever altered the history <strong>of</strong> my<br />
people who were stolen from their homes and brought to this land.<br />
This is the face my father warned me about, saying, “Boy, you can’t go over there with those<br />
people. . .You be careful when you go downtown.”<br />
This is the face that chased my father’s car down Mississippi roads ‘til he found refuge at<br />
a restaurant and stayed there ‘til some Black college students escorted him across the<br />
state line into Tennessee. He saw the face in his rear-view mirror and later described it<br />
to me.<br />
This is the face that has haunted my dreams since the very first time I learned what<br />
racism looks like and what hate sounds like; it chased me back to my part <strong>of</strong> East St.<br />
Louis and yelled, “You better stay in the South-End, Black Boy!”<br />
This is the face that held a gun to my head and thundered, “What the hell you doin’ in this<br />
part <strong>of</strong> town, Nigga?” when I was a teenager lost in Alton on my way to a hayride.<br />
This is the face that yelled at me and said, “You damn well betta git outta that wadda, Darkey,”<br />
as I swam with fellow soldiers in the waters <strong>of</strong>f Biloxi beach.<br />
This is the face I averted my eyes from and slightly bowed my head to as I stepped <strong>of</strong>f<br />
the wooden sidewalk in Hattiesburg to allow it to pass.<br />
This is the face I watch for as I travel Route 127 through and out <strong>of</strong> Pinckneyville, past<br />
the sign on the outskirts <strong>of</strong> town that reads, ‘Coon Club’. This is the face that makes<br />
me never ever drive that same route to Carbondale late at night, but travel the extra 35<br />
miles that keep me on the interstate.