Authors: Amirah Bellamy
2
When Cre and I walked out of the restaurant what happened next sent my lovelorn thoughts of Doran to a screeching halt. As soon as we stepped outside of the restaurant doors there were two policemen, one black and one white, just a few steps away from the restaurant door who seemed to be giving the brothah that just walked out ahead of us a hard time.
“Sir we need to ask you a few questions,” the white cop began.
“Yeah and its best that you cooperate,” the black cop added already acting a bit high-strung.
Looking at them skeptically the brothah replied, “I don’t think you have the right to question me about anything. I’m pretty sure I haven’t been involved in anything that would warrant the police needin to ask me any questions. All I was just tryin to do was grab a bite to eat before heading home.”
Soon Doran, like us, and some others had come outside and stopped to see what was going on. We were all looking on to see what the policemen were up to.
Then the white cop said “Sir you need to cooperate. Now we can either do this here or down at the station. All we want to do is ask you a few questions sir.”
Getting a lot more agitated, the brothah responded saying, “Like I said I ain’t done nothing that would warrant ya’ll needin to ask me nothing. Now am I under arrest or not? If not, I got nothing else to say to you and I’m going home.”
By then a crowd was forming and so the black cop started waving his hand around motioning for everyone to leave saying, “People keep it moving. This does not concern you and there’s nothing for you to see.”
Someone from the crowd yelled, “Yeah right! We aint’ goin nowhere. The minute we do we gon hear about how this brothah died for so-called
resisting
arrest!”
Then a sistah yelled, “Yeah! So whatever ya’ll gon do you gon do it with a dozen witnesses! We ain’t goin nowhere and you can’t take us all in for that!”
Everyone stood firm and not a soul moved. That seemed to have given the brothah being harassed some solace because he maintained that he was not going anywhere with the police and that he didn’t have anything to say to them.
“You can’t make me say nothin to you! If I say anything to you its on my own free will. Ya’ll ain’t gon never take my free will away from me! So it’s best ya’ll go on an leave me be,” the brothah continued getting more agitated.
Tensions were mounting and I could feel that things were about to take a turn for the worse. Then just as I predicted moments later as the brothah went to turn to walk away clutching his bag of food tighter the overzealous white cop overreacted by jumping and lunging at the brothah grabbing him by the arm and yanking it behind him saying, “Sir that’s it! We’re taking you in.”
Following the white cop’s lead, the black cop grabbed the brothah’s other arm that had the bag of food in it. However, because he had yanked the brothah’s arm so forcefully it sent the bag of food flying up in the air. When the food descended it landed on the black cop’s head. He yelled out in pain as the food was piping hot having just been prepared in the restaurant. More than that it looked like one items in the bag was soup, which was no doubt boiling hot.
The black cop grew angrier and was by then quite embarrassed and began to take it out on the brothah yanking out his cuffs, handcuffing the brothah then roughing him up as they made their way around the corner to the police car.
The crowd started to grow in size and increasingly more agitated as people began shouting at the cops saying that they had better let the brothah go, urging them to stop harassing black people. Then we all followed the cops around the corner and some had even pulled out their cellphones and began recording.
The closer the three men got to the car the more the brothah struggled to break free. We all looked on empathetically as we felt his angst in not wanting to get into the police car.
Tensions were very high surrounding such matters as several black boys had been murdered while in police custody over the past year or so. Too many times brothahs had been taken away in those cars never to be seen alive again.
So by the time they were within a few feet of the car the brothah began to yell emphatically, “Man you’re hurtin me! I ain’t resistin! You ain’t got nothin on me! What you takin me in for!”
Then seemingly having reached his boiling point the black cop faked a scuffle, forced the brothah to the ground and began kicking him viciously joined in by the white cop. They were kicking the brothah with such zeal that some of the brothahs standing by began to yell threats to the cops telling them to stop or they were gonna stop them.
Then , seeing that they were outnumbered and after hearing what was being said, the white cop stopped kicking the brothah, turned and drew his gun waving it at the crowd yelling, “Now back up. This does not concern you. This is police business. If you all don’t go on home we’ll take you all in for obstruction.”
“For obstructing what pig! Obstructing you from unjustly whipping that brothah’s ass! He said he ain’t resisting and the minute he said that you went to whippin on him like he stole on you. You got him in cuffs so ain’t no way he can fight you
or
resist,” A brothah from the crowd yelled.
“Yeah!” another yelled. “We ain’t going a gotdamn place!”
By then the white cop was calling for backup and in what seemed like seconds the place was swarming with cops. They were like parasites the way they so quickly multiplied.
As more cops arrived they began to make the ever expanding crowd disperse. There were by then so many people that I had lost track of Doran.
As the crowd began to disperse Cre and I decided to head on home both reeling from what we had just witnessed.
Over the past year at least 10 black boys had been unjustly brutally murdered by cops and so the black community was fed up to say the least. Scenes like that were becoming more and more common and it was beginning to feel like we were going backwards in time, reliving the civil rights era.
As the mother of a young, male child my heart always went out to the mothers of the fallen boys. I couldn’t imagine how painful that must have been to live through. It was a horrifying thought.
Then briefly thinking about Doran I wondered how I would have responded if that was him the cops were harassing. It easily could have been him about 2 minutes later. I shuttered at the thought.
Then looking forward to my date with him scheduled for later that evening I was sure that what just happened would be the main topic of discussion. Nonetheless, I looked forward to seeing him later as I made my way home still pondering the day’s eery events.
As planned, I returned to Everlasting Life that evening to have dinner with Doran. He was everything I expected and more. I was so smitten by his intelligence. He really had an insightful perspective on the whole cop brutality issue, which we of course discussed at length for much of the night.
As expected Doran was deeply insightful on a number of subjects and for me it seemed that he and I were a match made in heaven. I’d never felt that before. Yet that’s the effect that Doran had on me even to the present day. So from that day forward Doran and I had been inseparable and were married six months later.
3
As I lay reminiscing on the blissful memories of him I snuggled up as close to Doran as I could get. He was sleeping so soundly and peacefully. I could feel the gentle beating of his heart as I lay wrapped in his arms on his chest. Being with Doran was the most satisfying part of my life. On mornings like that I just wanted to lay in his arms forever.
It was Sunday morning, which was the one day that I got to sleep in. I had a yoga studio on Capitol Hill in downtown D.C. on 8th Street and normally had to get up at the crack of dawn on weekday mornings to get to the studio in time for my 5:30am sunrise yoga sessions. Yet, on Sundays I got to sleep in so lying there with Doran all those years later still made me giddy. I never wanted those mornings to end.
I never figured out what it was about Doran that made me so crazy about him, but whatever it was had me feeling like a lovesick schoolgirl ever since the day I met him. It was three years later and I still got butterflies in my stomach whenever I saw him or whenever he would call. Though he was my husband, from the way that I acted with him onlookers would often think that we’d just started courting.
To the present day when Doran would look at me it send chills up and down my spine. He would touch me and I would still melt. He’d smile at me and I’d still blush. I was smitten with him and anyone could see it.
I started to see the sun’s glow outside my eyelids so I opened my eyes imagining it’s warmth caressing my skin. Doran rubbed my arms apparently waking up as well. I looked up at him as he was beginning to awaken, or so I thought. To my surprise, he was merely repositioning himself still seemingly in deep sleep. I decided to close my eyes again and continued to enjoy the bliss of lying in his arms.
Within minutes I had dozed back off and was again sleeping peacefully when all of a sudden out of nowhere I felt a sharp tug. Startled I sprung straight up.
“Doran! What’s wrong?” I asked reaching over to grab his arm thinking that he was having a nightmare and had accidentally tugged me.
“Who the hell are you?” Doran yelled yanking away from me and jumping out of the bed looking at me as if I was a complete stranger.
Doran looked almost terrified staring down at me. I wondered if he was having some kind of psychotic break, at least until I saw what he saw.
4
The look in Doran’s eyes startled me so I looked to see what about me was so startling to him. When I looked I couldn’t believe my eyes! Immediately I jumped up and ran to the bathroom mirror to see if I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. As I looked at the face staring back at me I was sure that I had either lost my mind or that I was a part of someone’s cruel joke.
Meanwhile, Doran came running after me still yelling at me and asking who the hell I was. My mind was racing and I couldn’t answer him. I had no idea.
Trying to calm myself and Doran I found the will speak.
“It’s me Doran,” I said.
“Me who? Who the hell are you? Where did you come from? How did you get in my bed and where is my wife!?!” he yelled.
“Baby it’s me. I’m Netty. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why I look like this, but I promise you it’s me baby,” I reasoned.
“Baby? Don’t call me that. I don’t know you! How do you know my wife and where is she?” Doran said beginning to cover himself with a nearby towel.
“Baby I swear I’m just as confused about this as you are. It’s really me, Netty!” I said beginning to tear up.
I was scared out of my wits by then. I couldn’t figure out what was going on. I didn’t know if I was in some alternate universe or what. It seemed that one minute I was in heaven and the next I was in a living hell. I was truly in a living nightmare. The question buzzing like a siren in my head was how was this possible? How did I go to sleep as one person and wake up as another? Then not only did I wake up as another person, but I woke up as a white woman!
Doran was furious and he wasn’t listening to anything that I had to say. I was struggling to deal with my own terror while trying to calm him down and reassure him of who I was, but it didn’t do a bit of good. He started pacing back and forth. I’d never seen him so angry. In fact, I’d never seen him angry at all. He always had such a peaceful disposition.
I started to get worried that things might take a turn for the worst so I decided to say something to assure Doran that I was telling the truth. I needed to calm him down so I could try to figure out what was going on with me.
“I could go for a Garvey Burger right about now,” I said looking over at Doran hoping for a sign that he’d realize that I was still me.
“What did you say?” Doran said freezing in his tracks moving toward me.
“I’m just trying to get you to see that it’s me baby,” I reasoned.
“Look I don’t know who the hell you are, but you got about 3 seconds to get the hell up outta my house!” Doran exclaimed sounding more threatening.
“Baby look I’m scared to death here and I’m doing my best to hold it together. I’m just as confused as you are. I feel like me. I sound like me, but I damn sure don’t look like myself. I don’t know what the hell happened as I slept. I wish you would calm down so that we can figure this out together. I need you baby I’m scared,” I pouted before continuing. “Look, so that we can at least move past you believing me please ask me anything and I promise I’ll answer it to prove that I’m me. Really baby ask me anything, something that only I’d know,” I reasoned.
He looked at me intently as if pondering what to ask me. Then he said, “What show did I used to watch with my grandfather before he died when I was 8 years old?”
“Andy Griffith,” I answered confidently.
He paused for a moment as if in shock then moments later he ran over to me and grabbed ahold of me holding me tight.
“It
is
you!” Doran said matter-of-factly.
“Yes it is, but I have no idea what or how this happened. Everything about me feels the same. How could this have happened baby? Is it permanent?” I asked wanting Doran to have the answers.
“I’ve never heard of anything like this baby. Did you feel okay when you went to bed last night?” Doran asked.
“I felt fine and I still do now. I don’t think it’s a disease or anything. I mean look at me baby. I don’t look sick. I’m just white!” I said startled as I looked at myself in the mirror again.
It was difficult to look. I was a white woman. My once henna-coated kinky, curly tresses had become straight, stringy, reddish brunette strands that hung to the middle of my back. My once caramel-coated melanated brown skin was a pale bleached ghostly skin suit. Even the texture of it was different. It had a more clammy texture. My scent was different also. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but something about it was very different. Also, my once thick beautiful lips were thin and barely visible. My life-giving hips and thighs were instead and extension of my back. It seemed that even the air that I breathed had changed though I knew that part was only in my head. I just detested the face staring back at me in the mirror. Who was she and why had she taken over my body!
Both Doran and I just stood gazing at her, our thoughts racing a million miles per minute. We had so many unanswered questions. She would have to give us some answers.
Doran gazed into her eyes and said, “Well your eyes are still the same. Those I know.”
“Really? Everything just seems so foreign to me at this point. The only thing that I recognize is me from the inside. I still
feel
black. Does my voice still sound the same? It does to me,” I said.
“It’s got a bit of a higher pitch. Try to sing something,” Doran suggested.
Among my many crafts I was also a singer. I sang a quick jazz riff and from the look on Doran’s face it seemed that my vocals were still in tact. I did a yoga pose to see if I still had my flexibility. I did reverse triangle pose with ease and concluded that my flexibility was also still in tact.
“I know this sounds crazy but can you log onto the computer babe and look online to see if you can find anything about this. Maybe it’s happened to someone else,” I proposed.
“I highly doubt that, but we can look,” Doran said heading back to our bedside table and grabbing his Macbook Air as he made his way to sit on his side of the bed.
He started typing in search terms like ‘waking up a different person’ and ‘waking up in a different reality.’ Mostly what he found pertained to coma patients who woke up speaking different languages. As for the latter search term the only thing that came up was someone talking about out-of-body experiences. There wasn’t a single case of anyone waking up appearing to be a completely different person.
I started to panic. What if this was permanent. How would I live that way. I couldn’t be her. I loved me and I wanted my own body back. Besides that everyone in the conscious community knew me as a black woman. Then I hadn’t even thought about how my kids would react!
“Babe how are we gonna explain this to Ina when she wakes up?!?!” I said nearly hyperventilating at the thought.
“I haven’t thought that far ahead. I’m still trying to digest this myself,” Doran said looking at me with a hint of disgust.
Doran was by no means into white girls and I could only imagine how repulsed he must have been feeling. He was a brother that truly loved the sistahs. Besides that he was a very conscious brothah and deeply metaphysical. He believed in all things melanated so I knew that what was happening had to be blowing his mind. I knew that he would need time to digest it all so I made my way back to the bathroom to give him a moment.
When I got to the bathroom I looked at her again in the mirror.
“Who are you?” I asked her aloud.
There was no reply so I asked again.
“Who are you? Tell me what you want from me. Why me?” I asked hoping to get a response.
Still nothing.
I decided to take in some deep breaths to try to calm myself down so that maybe I could hear a response. I thought that perhaps I just had too much mind chatter going on with all the excitement of the morning’s events.
“Who are you?” I asked again after quieting my thoughts a bit.
I still got no response.
“Get out! Give me my body back! Give it back now!” I began screaming at the mirror.
The more I looked at her the more enraged I became. I hated her. I had to find a way to get rid of her. I began screaming and crying uncontrollably and Doran came running into the bathroom to see what was wrong. I had started scratching my skin. I thought that maybe it would come off and that it was all cruel joke. My nails were long and had broken the skin so blood was everywhere. Doran ran in and grabbed my hands to stop me.
“Netty stop! Look what you’re doing. Stop this. This isn’t helping. You have to calm down so we can figure this out,” Doran consoled.
“Who are you?!?!!” I continued to yell louder.
“She is you baby and we will deal with this,” Doran said holding me in his arms.
As he held me the tears began to fall down my face like waterfalls. I cried out as if in pain. It was devastating. It was horrific and what I felt was the worst possible thing imaginable. Never in a million years did I think that I could look at myself with such disdain. Yet at that moment I hated myself to the very depths of me and I hated that I did.
I wept in Doran’s arms for what seemed like an eternity. He patiently held me close and allowed me to cry until I had no more tears. For me it was as if someone had died. Then I guess in a way someone did, me. The imposter that stared back at me in the mirror had taken my place. As I gazed into Doran’s eyes weakened by what seemed like hours of crying I could also see that he felt the same way. I could see that he wanted Netty back. No matter how strong he tried to be for me the truth was still in his eyes. Doran’s eyes always told the story of what went on inside of him and so I knew for us the journey was just beginning.
“So what now? I can’t stay in this room forever. How am I supposed to live like this. How are we supposed to live like this? I can see in your eyes that I repulse you and I get it because I can’t even bear to look at myself. I feel like this is it for me. My life is over. I can’t go to the studio like this. I can’t let Ina see me like this. Then what about J? What are we gonna tell him when he comes home? I can’t hold him off forever,” I rambled.
Ina was our 10-year-old daughter and J was our 22-year-old son who was away at a college in Colorado completing his final year. Doran didn’t have children when I met him, but quickly fell right into a father role to both of my children fully claiming them both as his own. He didn’t believe in step-children so we always referred to them as our children and Doran fit right into our family as if he had been there all along.
“Try not to worry about all of these things right now. We’re not going to figure anything out with you being so upset. Try to calm down first okay,” Doran said still holding me trying to calm me.
I had cried so much and gotten myself so worked up that I had exhausted myself and as Doran stroked my head I began to doze off.