110: Poetry: Series: Harlem On My Mind: 1. Skin
Harlem Parade: Adam Clayton Powell, Jr. Passing in a Car
Joseph Delaney, 1971 Collection of The Museum of the City of New York
This 1964 Harlem parade honored U.S. Congressman Adam Clayton Powell, Jr., who later served as chairman of the House Committee on Education and Labor under President Lyndon Johnson. Delaney expressed how the Harlem community felt about Powell by scrawling “Baby, I love you” across the upper left area of the canvas.
Memories linked to the black community of Harlem in the 1960’s when I was a college student at the City College of New York. Sometimes life provides a better education than any university.
series: Harlem On My Mind
I
Skin
©srk all rights reserved
I had two mothers named Pauline,
one from Brooklyn, one from Harlem.
The one from Brooklyn was a little bit of a thing
who raised two kids and worked full time.
The one from Harlem was a little bit of a thing
who cleaned our apartment weekly.
Harlem-Pauline, called Brooklyn-Pauline,
“Miss Pauline.”
On days when Pauline came
topush the mop and vacuum,
to stand tirelessly behind the ironing board,
I would be sick, and have to stay home from school.
I needed to watch her light her cigarette butts
with her head near the blue flame of the stove,
her eyelashes precariously close to the fire, and previously singed.
For lunch she made herself deviled eggs.
I had never seen this before:
the creamy yellow in white nests, black pepper spots.
Pauline from Brooklyn never used black pepper.
I once hesitated to drink from a glass
I knew Pauline had put to her lips.
I didn’t know she saw me.
She said,
“If I cut my skin, you would see white underneath.
If we both cut our skin, we bleed.”
Pauline’s tiny frame had a tobacco voice, a boyfriend,
and a key to our apartment.
One day my sister came home from school and found the door
ajar, and the little treasures of our lives
meticulously picked through,
butts left in the ashtray,
the lovebirds pendant left to me from aunt Sarah
gone.
Hands had been in the Kotex box,
in the underwear.
My mother thought Pauline’s boyfriend
entered and ran with our history
and security.
but I wouldn’t allow those thoughts.
Four years later I was walking up the hill
on 145th Street, towards Convent Avenue,
to follow the white faces to the North Campus of CCNY.
The black sea parted,
and I saw Pauline.
Her tiny frame fed with deviled eggs,
her eyelashes singed,
she was walking down the hill in
the direction of
The A train, on her way
to stand behind an ironing board
and to push the mop and vacuum
for another family.
I kissed Pauline.
Her cheek was dry to my lips.
Just a note to give this piece some clarity. Pauline came in to clean once/week, while my mother worked a 9-5 job and several nights. Working women worked hard; and even harder if they had families. This was before “women’s lib.” What exactly were women liberated from?
Yahoo Comments
(8 total) Post a Comment
- heidi b
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yours is very nice
Tuesday December 18, 2007 – 09:51am (PST) Remove Comment
- Bill
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And the lessons learned?? Time makes us all inadequate. Until someone cares who else is there? Thank you for the reminder. God Bless Pauline
Tuesday December 18, 2007 – 06:09pm (GMT) Remove Comment
- ged
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Very graphic,different yet familiar,unique yet typical,insightful of another time ,yet still very much the present.Thanks for sharing
Tuesday December 18, 2007 – 07:17pm (GMT) Remove Comment
- Jacqu…
- Offline
A very different time in our lives. It seems so alien to think back upon it but at the time it was such an ingrained manner of life. It did give us such opportunity for growth. Nice poem in that it tells it like it was and unfortunately still is in some parts of the world.
Tuesday December 18, 2007 – 04:01pm (MST) Remove Comment
- Just …
- Offline
You are an amazing woman. I treasure the ppictures of your memories that you create. <hugs> my friend
Tuesday December 18, 2007 – 11:12pm (CST) Remove Comment
- Nicho…
- Offline
A pungent, poignant, smoky piece. Telling much but hiding so much more. The subtext is as revealing as the pictures you paint so skillfully! Here is my link: http://au.blog.360.yahoo.com/blog-9vufNvEnerRaLziLf5dY0MfYrUA-?cq=1&p=10354 Thanks for hosting!
Thursday December 20, 2007 – 08:23am (EST) Remove Comment
I love this poem. You have created a picture of Pauline in our heads and introduced us to a wonderful woman who is now part of our family too. Such beauty you’ve unfolded here :o). Thanks for sharing this AND a part of your history with us!
Wednesday December 19, 2007 – 03:53pm (CST) Remove Comment
I finally made it here….yahoo has been crazy all day. I love this poem. You paint such picture with your words. I am transported to another place and time. Amazing…….
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lauritasita wrote on Dec 18, ’07, edited on Dec 18, ’07
I remember Pauline. I thought she was much taller, though. I guess when you’re a short little kid anyone seems tall. I didn’t know you later ran into her. I don’t think we ever got another housekeeper after her.
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sweetpotatoqueen wrote on Dec 19, ’07
Sue..this was such a blast back to a different time . I too remember a “mother” presence in our lives called Geneva who cleaned our home,babysat and was a comforting presence in a little girls like..her skin was black also. Wonderful thoughts put to words!
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philsgal7759 wrote on Dec 19, ’07
Wow In that short piece I want to meet Pauline. We had a housekeeper too for awhile Sally was a nice lady, there were 6 of us kids at the time and only my brother and I in school. I don’t remember her being with us very long I think she got an office job. I remember years later thinking that even though I missed her I was glad she did not clean houses anymore. Mom and Dad never treated her as anything.but our equal but there were not a lot of white lmaids in the washington suburbs and it seemed very unfair to me that saslly was treated differently just because she was black.
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bostonsdandd wrote on Dec 19, ’07
Wow! You introduce us to Pauline and have made her part of the family. Beautifully done my friend! A joy to read about your history as always.
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lauritasita wrote on Dec 19, ’07
I came back to read it again. Something made me come back. I think my first comment was too shallow. I just wanted to add that I thought it was very touching that you kissed her when you ran into her that day, rather than expressing anger for robbing us. I guess a child’s innocence easily forgives.
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sanssouciblogs wrote on Dec 19, ’07
To my sister Laurita, I never thought Pauline did Rob us, I never believed she did. i always believed in the good in people. I’d like to think it was someone else, and as there were many robberies in the 60’s in out housing development, who knows. But there was no sign of breaking and entering. And no proof.
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redheadgirl4 wrote on Dec 19, ’07
Wow another vivid poem. I feel as if Pauline comes alive before my eyes reading this. I’ve said it many times before, but there is something unusually vivid about the way you write — it evokes mental images that seem so clear, and that is not a common trait. Thanks for sharing this special memory my brilliant friend. Big hugs!
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lyricalverses wrote on Dec 30, ’07
What a wonderful piece.. you’re quite talented and an awesome storyteller.. write on.. Will
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surelydimple wrote on Jan 2, ’08
Happy New Year! I wasnt around last week, so I just got to this one. I really loved the story!!! I was trying to think, how to word, my feelings from this story. If I may borrow or second redheadgirl4’s comment, thats how I feel too. Loved It!
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Hi dear. I decided to start catching up here. Interesting poem. Your style of writing is beautiful. As the others have said so eloquently you paint a vivid picture. What I find most interesting is your perspective on Pauline. You see my mother is a Pauline. Still is to this day. And I have known other Paulines growing up. But I always knew them from their side. I am really glad that you appreciated her and respected her. Life was and still is hard for the Pauline’s of the world.
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