Living in Sin
by Mo Fleming
When I was too little to listen and understand, I heard Mama and them talking about Aunt Hominy "living in sin." I heard it said three times in my life, and they always talked about it on the sly. If they saw me listening, Mama would tell me to take my big ears out of grown folks business. Since they would shut up until I left the room, and then talk about Sin in low, low voices, I had to fill in a lot blanks by myself.
Sin was a place far away from Eldert Street. Everybody looked like my Aunt Hominy. All the women wore dashikis and wraps around their hips and cork-soled high heels, and great big gold hoop earrings dangled from their ears. They had almost bald heads because they didn't want no hair.
That's why I wanted to live there--so I wouldn't have to get my hair straightened all the time. The straightening comb would be so hot I could feel it coming from the stove. I would scrunch up my shoulders waiting for the heat. Then Aunt Izzy would pop me with a hairbrush or burn my ears with the hot comb on purpose, yelling, "Hold still, Molly!" because she didn't want to do my hair in the first place. But Aunt Izzy was next to the youngest, so anybody, including my Mama could tell her what to do. I'd be crying and mad, and stinging from ear blisters. As soon as I moved to Sin, I was going to cut my hair to the scalp just like Aunt Hominy.
In Sin, the beautiful ladies look like me. Their skin is blue black and kids didn't pick on them about it. Nobody says, "You black as a burnt piece of toast," and shames them about having liver lips and big noses. I'm going to wear loops of beads around my neck like Aunt Hominy does and lots of jangly bracelets all the way up my arms. And I'm not going to slather a ton of Vaseline on my face and lips and have to walk around all shiny and greasy all day long. I'm going to pierce my ears same as Aunt Hominy so I fit right in with the girls in Sin. Nobody will call me ugly because everybody will look like me and my aunt.
And my man will act like the sun rises and sets on my behind like Mama and them say Houston thinks it does in Aunt Hominy's butt. That was one of the times I heard about Mama and them talking about her town when they said that about Aunt Hominy and Houston. They called him Houston "X" and laughed like they do at those Redd Foxx albums they play down in the basement. Like "X" was a joke. It was a joke I sure didn't get. Anyway, Aunt Nona said in her cranky way, "She needs to marry that man and stop living in sin." But Sin never sounded that bad to me.
As soon as I move, I'm going to throw these ucky red and white patent leather Oxfords that Aunt Nona gave me in the garbage. I'm going to wear sandals all summer and boots up to my knees all winter. I'm going to have a whole closet full of dashikis. Mama can't stand them; she calls them dishy-dashy things. She said to Aunt Hominy, "Girl you need to stop wearing rags around your hips and get yourself a skirt!"
Aunt Nona said, "She needs to put a rag around that bald head."
Aunt Izzy said, "Hominy, you do need to grow some hair."
"You're not getting that hot comb next to my head again," Aunt Hominy was laughing because she was not hardly listening to them.
I may even change my name like Aunt Hominy did. Nzinga sounds better than Hominy, even though Aunt Nona and them pretend like they can't say it, and won't even say it when Aunt Hominy tries to teach them. I heard her ask Mama, "If you could be named after an African warrior princess, or a bowl of grits, which would you pick?" Mama sucked her teeth and waved her off like she didn't have time for such nonsense. But I like Nzinga, and I always call her that. She calls me Mali although Daddy named me, Molly. Molly is not very exciting.
When nobody is paying any attention to me, I go in my room and wrap myself in sheets. See, I'm practicing how I'm going to wear fancy cloth with pretty colors around my waist. And I call myself "Mali" in the mirror so that when I walk down the streets of Sin, I can sashay like my aunt and recognize my name when people yell, "Hey, Mali!"
One time I asked my baby aunt if I could move in with her. I showed Aunt Nzinga a picture I drew of her and me and Houston and the people living in Sin. Ladies with no hair, guys with Afros like Houston, girls with beads all around their necks, bangle bracelets and wrap-around skirts. I used brown and black crayons for all the people, but their clothes were every other color in the box. And they were all holding hands in front of their houses, which kind of looked the same as mine.
"Aunt Nzinga, can I come live with you?"
From her smile, I could tell that she was pleased and surprised. She kept turning my picture around. I had to show her right side up from upside down.
"You want to come live with me, Mali?"
"Yes," I answered, "I want to live in Sin, too."
Aunt Nzinga laughed so hard I swear I thought I saw her hair grow. Then she hugged me like I was her own daughter and took me to the corner for an icy.