Go

“Liar!” I heard a voice say. Actually it woke me up. It’s 3:31am. This is great. I’ll never get back to sleep now. I lit another Newport and thought to myself. I recognized the voice. It sounded like my mother. My mother is dead. She died of congestive heart failure. A code blue. A few days later I was wearing black for her funeral. The color black to pay my respects and mourn. It was always colors I remember to symbolize a fucked up situation. Honestly.

When many people think of a green light they think, “Go,” as if in traffic. Honestly. For fat, black, broke, nappy head girls in America it seems to be a constant big ass red light that says, “NO,” “STOP,” “Danger” or “NO GO.” “No” to everything. “No” to riches and "No" to the American Dream. “No” to a better life. “No” to finding true love. “No” to considering yourself as beautiful; beautiful just as you are without the need for hair straighteners and skin lightening cosmetics and lotions. “No” to ever following dreams of movie stardom or success. You’re lucky if you can make it out of high school without getting pregnant. If you’re a male you’re lucky to make it out of high school without going to jail or ending up dead. You’re lucky if you have a father. You’re lucky if you aren’t molested as a child. And you’re lucky if you don’t become a crack addict or get AIDS or nowadays Covid-19. It’s always a Red Light. Never a yellow light and certainly never ever a green light. All I ever heard from my mother is that I am beautiful and “blessed.” But isn’t that what all mothers tell their daughters? At least caring mothers do.

Like so many of my peers, I never knew my father. In my case, he died before I was born. Motorcycle accident. Honestly.

My mother was a strong, God-fearing woman. Certainly one of the strongest women I know. She was able to smile through the worse kind of pain and fight until the end if the cause was worth fighting for. She died in poverty about three years ago.

So. I’ll think green. I’ll try to think green. What comes to my mind is some sort of alien activity or images related to sci-fi. People seldom associate green lights with “Stop” or “Danger.” For those things we have the color yellow or the “Yellow Light” or the color red or the “Red Light.” Red. Now I know that color. I know that color far too well. I have a lot of red in my life….

RED LIGHTS

Flashing lights. Set in New York City, I am a young actor or better yet aspiring actor named Diana Greene. I live in the upper Eastside of Manhattan in the heart of Spanish Harlem. I was named after Diana the famous Princess of Wales Princess Diana. To me, this name meant nobility. After all I was named after the most famous princess in the world. This meant that I was special; that I was going to be someone. “What a big lie!” I thought. I don’t have a job right now, a car and no agent. Although, not necessarily the projects, I still lived in what was called the “hood” or “ghetto.” I lived in a two-bedroom apartment with my younger brother, Steven. Although spacious, the place is infested with roaches and mice and the building has been burglarized several times.

I lived in this building for the first 25 years of my life. A stray dog almost killed me, I constantly got into fights, and I even saw a guy get shot and killed in my building. To me, most people in the ghetto weren’t bad people, but there were enough bad apples to ruin the whole basket. Along with poverty came an increased crime rate. Drug-fueled gang violence and poverty-motivated petty theft make most ghettos a seriously fucked up place to live in. It wasn’t easy, but I avoided all these things. Still however, I did not succeed as a working actor-nor did I become rich enough to move.

“LIAR!” I heard the voice again. This time it scared me. The voice was as if the apparition was standing right in front of me. The belief in the existence of an afterlife as well as manifestations of the spirits of the dead is not something I am accustomed to. Or care to get into. Fuck that shit.

“LIAR! LIAR! LIAR!” Yelled the voice, causing me to hold my ears in pain from the loud echo. I crutched to my knees.

“Who is a liar?” I finally asked.

“You are!” The voice said.

Oh really! What have I lied about? Did I lie about todays race problem? Did I lie about the crappy hand that I was dealt? Did I lie about the communal experience of the slaves and their descendants that has been shaped by political, social, and economic institutions that, by any measure, must be seen as oppressive. What exactly did I lie about?

“What did I lie about?” I asked. Demanding an answer. With a spirit of righteousness as my backbone, I mustered up enough courage to speak; to challenge this voice. To put this voice in its place with the truth. “What did I lie about?”

The voice did not answer. I lit a Newport and waited. Still no answer.

Nothing or no one could prepare me for what happened next--All of a sudden the air turned cold; a light flickered; a shadowy figure made from the smoke of my cigarette floated in front of my very eyes; a figure I was too familiar with. It looked like me. When I looked closely, I saw that it was me!

This scared the shit outta me. It kept me up all night, kept lingering in the back of my mind for days on end, nagging at my thoughts. Sage,I read a common supernatural cleansing tool, can work. Still, it was a matter of time before I needed a smoke. I lit the next cigarette and………

“You have been lying,” my echoed voice said through the apparition of myself.

“To who?” I asked.

“To yourself,” said the voice.

“About what?” I heard myself ask.

No answer.

THE NEXT DAY

“Carbon monoxide poisoning,” said Latoya. Latoya Rogers has been my girl since 5th grade. She is heavily into astrology, tarot cards, palm reading, psychics and shit like that. In other words, she is the one to talk to about what I am going through. I’m so happy she lives in my building. She continued, “Century-old research has found a connection between excess carbon monoxide and hallucinations that make people believe they’re experiencing paranormal activity. Needless to say, carbon-monoxide poisoning is extremely serious—so if you’re experiencing the unexplainable, make sure your carbon monoxide detector is in good working order. Word.”

“Where do you get this shit?” I asked.

“I read it somewhere,” Latoya said.

Latoya didn’t believe me. Instead, she told me that the building I lived in had mold in the hallways and that was what it was. Nothing more.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“If you’re convinced that your place is haunted you should learn that certain toxic molds can cause hallucinations that make people think they’re experiencing a haunting,” she said.

“It said I was a liar,” I said.

“A liar? Why?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

Latoya burst out laughing. After she left, I felt like a fool. It was very frustrating. I was telling her the truth. Now I sound crazy.

I became angry. Lighting another cigarette, I asked the thin air, “Can you please explain to me why you are here….and exactly what I lied about? Please, I need to know.”

It was a shot in the dark. But it worked. The air turned cold. Lights flickered; a shadowy figure made from the smoke of my cigarette floated in front of me again. Again, it was a reflection of me.

It spoke, “You are a liar.”

“How?” I asked.

“You are lying to yourself,” the ghost said. “You are blaming everything and everyone for why you have not reached any of your goals. That is a lie.”

“What?” I asked.

“You heard me well,” the ghost said. “Blame God. Blame society. Blame your parents. Blame your environment. Blame the Easter bunny. Hell, blame the entire congregation. Then once you’re done, once you did all that, get your self-esteem together and go out and audition. Stop the foolishness Diana.”

I couldn’t speak. I just listened as my spine began to tingle at its voice’s intensity.

“Search inside your heart darling. Find that specialness; that uniqueness within yourself… then go get em. The light is green. The world is yours!” It said in a softer tone.

A tear fell from my eyes. “What is your name?” I asked.

It smiled then said, “Diana.”

I just smiled although I couldn’t stop crying. And crying.

Diana wiped away my tears. Then smiling at me she said, “Baby, go to the Center Stage on Broadway tomorrow. Audition for any play. You will get the part. Very important. Go tomorrow at 11:00 sharp. And try not to be late. This is your career. Punctuality is very important. Do you understand?”

“Okay.” I said.

“And bring your friend with you tomorrow,” said Diana.

“What about Steven?” I asked.

“It won’t be long. Steven will be in school right?” Asked Diana.

“Yes.”

Diana disappeared.

GREEN LIGHT

Diana was right. I got the part. Latoya said she was too busy to come with me and stayed home. I was so excited, I couldn’t wait to tell her the great news.

The play was about a young girl from the ghetto who saves her neighborhood from evil spirits with the help of a witch doctor. And I got the part. It’s right on time for Halloween. I could not wait to get started on reading the script. A starring role! The director told me lots of celebrities come to that theater; especially opening nights. Talents agents in show business are regulars at Center Stage as well.

My happiness was put on pause when I saw my building was on fire from across the street. Stopped at a red light, I couldn’t wait for the light to turn green. It seemed like the longest red light ever. Finally I got the green light. I ran across the street towards the building and was stopped by the police and fire department. Sherri a local crack head was standing next to me. Sherri usually sits on the side of the building, begging people for money and cigarettes. But today she wasn’t high or drunk. She looked on at the burning flames that consumed the building with concern.

“What happened?” I asked Sherri.

“I don’t know how the fire started. They investigating now,” said Sherri.

Social services placed me and Steven in a motel nearby and gave us food vouchers and extra money for clothes and personal care supplies. We were safe and we had a place to stay while the building is being restored. After helping Steven with his homework, I turned on the news. According to the news anchor most people were able to evacuate the building safely. Six people died in the fire. Latoya was one of them. I did not know the other five people. I am going to miss Latoya terribly and I was grateful that me and Steven was alive and well. I lit a cigarette and continued watching the news. Nothing formed from the smoke of the cigarette. I turned off the tv and began practicing my lines.

The End