Theatrical Muse 294 Passing.
When Harriet and I were thinking about marriage I decided to read a bit about America. Not just the guide books and the guidance for those thinking about the Green Card, I wanted to get the feel of the place. I asked the library for “realistic American fiction”. Some of that had passing as a plot device.
I remember one called “An Imitation of Life” - that was an old film. I saw it with Harry on a long, cold, wet Saturday in Cork city. The rain was bucketing down and I couldn’t wait to get inside for a nice warm bit of courting in the back row. I only remember bits of the movie; there was a black woman and a white one and they each had a child. I wouldn’t have wanted either of those kids in a class I was teaching, but they grew up straight away.
The black woman’s child had fair skin and dark hair and as soon as she was old enough she started passing for white. She must have run away, because the mother found her in a chorus line or something and the girl told the other dancers that the mother was a family servant. I’m not sure if that was quite it, but the mother told the other girl that she’d “just come to see “Little Miss (Whatshername) while passing through the city”. When she left the other girl said to the daughter, “So you-all had a Mammy?” and the daughter said, “All my life.” It’s almost the only part I remember, except that when the white boy the daughter was dating found out she had “black blood” he attacked her and tried to disfigure her. I think somebody dies at the end of it all. They had a really good singer at the funeral.
Anyway, it didn’t seem very relevant to life in Ireland. I thought of it as a woman’s picture but Harry didn’t seem keen on it either. My mother had seen it, though. When she saw that it was on she’d talked about it. After I saw it I was surprised that she’d remembered a film like that, but that might have been why I thought Harry might like it.
It turned into a kind of race-oriented weekend. I think it was something on the TV that set him off, but Fr. Kelly gave a marvelous sermon about prejudice at Mass on the Sunday. He was at his thundering best. “To find fault with the colour or the shape of a man is to find fault with the image of God!” It annoyed Harry because he didn’t mention women at all, but she didn’t say anything to him, of course. (The truth is I wouldn’t be entirely sure that he’d ever met one of the people he was preaching about, although he’d maybe been out of Ballykell while was he was training. I didn’t say anything about that, either. We were both on our best behaviour, back then.)
Years later Angel told me about when he was hanged at the Hyperion. That girl was passing for white, too. I wondered how many people do pass as whatever they need to be to survive. How many others was I meeting, every day? Do the others recognize each other? Of course, by then I’d started to give that kind of thing a lot more thought.
Muse; Doyle
Fandom, Angel, the series.
Words, 567
I remember one called “An Imitation of Life” - that was an old film. I saw it with Harry on a long, cold, wet Saturday in Cork city. The rain was bucketing down and I couldn’t wait to get inside for a nice warm bit of courting in the back row. I only remember bits of the movie; there was a black woman and a white one and they each had a child. I wouldn’t have wanted either of those kids in a class I was teaching, but they grew up straight away.
The black woman’s child had fair skin and dark hair and as soon as she was old enough she started passing for white. She must have run away, because the mother found her in a chorus line or something and the girl told the other dancers that the mother was a family servant. I’m not sure if that was quite it, but the mother told the other girl that she’d “just come to see “Little Miss (Whatshername) while passing through the city”. When she left the other girl said to the daughter, “So you-all had a Mammy?” and the daughter said, “All my life.” It’s almost the only part I remember, except that when the white boy the daughter was dating found out she had “black blood” he attacked her and tried to disfigure her. I think somebody dies at the end of it all. They had a really good singer at the funeral.
Anyway, it didn’t seem very relevant to life in Ireland. I thought of it as a woman’s picture but Harry didn’t seem keen on it either. My mother had seen it, though. When she saw that it was on she’d talked about it. After I saw it I was surprised that she’d remembered a film like that, but that might have been why I thought Harry might like it.
It turned into a kind of race-oriented weekend. I think it was something on the TV that set him off, but Fr. Kelly gave a marvelous sermon about prejudice at Mass on the Sunday. He was at his thundering best. “To find fault with the colour or the shape of a man is to find fault with the image of God!” It annoyed Harry because he didn’t mention women at all, but she didn’t say anything to him, of course. (The truth is I wouldn’t be entirely sure that he’d ever met one of the people he was preaching about, although he’d maybe been out of Ballykell while was he was training. I didn’t say anything about that, either. We were both on our best behaviour, back then.)
Years later Angel told me about when he was hanged at the Hyperion. That girl was passing for white, too. I wondered how many people do pass as whatever they need to be to survive. How many others was I meeting, every day? Do the others recognize each other? Of course, by then I’d started to give that kind of thing a lot more thought.
Muse; Doyle
Fandom, Angel, the series.
Words, 567