Oppressed by Kira Saito Read Free Book Online Page B

cheered them on. Most urban slaves were allowed Sundays off and
they took full advantage of this privilege by celebrating their
glorious culture with the city.
    I felt the omnipresent loa all around me
encouraging me to dance, clap, and forget my problems, so I did. I
clapped and screamed while swinging my minuscule hips from side to
side. The loa and I had a somewhat special relationship. I loved,
respected, and feared them, and in return they opened their strange
and magical world to me. I saw them everywhere. On street corners,
in the marketplace, in church, in the bathroom. They saw and heard
everything.
    “ Heathens, savages; this is a
complete abomination to civilization,” Antoine scoffed. “They need
to have some pride and self-respect. How is anyone to take them
seriously if they go on behaving like this?”
    I rolled my eyes. “Antoine
Dupart, you, mon ami , are a bourgeois snob!” I accused, as I grabbed his hand
and tried to get him into the spirit.
    I glanced over at him and felt
a sudden sur ge of affection. He was my best friend, companion, and the
brother I never had. I had been friends with him and his twin
sister, Aimee, since the age of five. Last year, Aimee had gotten
married and had moved to Paris with her husband leaving, Antoine
and I to ourselves. Of course, Maman didn’t know Antoine and I
still saw one another, because the cold, hard truth was I was no
longer a child and hadn’t been for quite some time.
    I knew what my fate was and I had resisted
it since the day I had officially turned into a woman. Being seen
in the company of any man was a threat to my so-called honor. My
secret escapes to Congo Square on Sundays were the only time I was
able to get away from the constant expectations and tensions that
filled my life. Antoine, being the gentleman he was, always
insisted on accompanying me in case anyone “threatened my
honor.”
    Antoine shook his hand free and
crossed his arms. His full lips held a disapproving frown, his dark
green eyes narrowed, and the nostrils of his thin nose flared as
they always tended to do when he was annoyed. He was so proud, so
handsome, and infinitely snobby. He smoothed out his already
immaculate waistcoat and straightened his silk tie. “Tell me,
Cecile, how are gens de couleur libres ever going to get the respect they deserve
if they continue to associate themselves with the lower class?
These heathens?”
    I shook my head and stopped dancing.
“Lower class? Are we not all one and the same? The loa don’t create
meaningless boundaries, nor do they discriminate based on class.
Who are we to do so?”
    He looked at me
incredulously . “Loa! Loa! Where were the loa when my grand-pere fought for his freedom during
the Haitian Revolution? They were nowhere to be found! He came
to…”
    “ Yes, I know; he came to New
Orleans, taught himself how to read and write, learned the fine
craft of dress-making so he could send your papa to the finest
schools. Your papa worked hard so you could pursue your dream of
studying law.” I stood on my toes and pinched his cheek
affectionately. “Antoine, mon amour, I would hire you as my lawyer any day.”
    “ Very funny , Cecile. This is not a joke.
We have to maintain our dignity and respect. We have to protect our
rights! They can be taken away from us at any moment. Only in
Louisiana can a free person of color own property! Imagine! In this
day and age, only in one state! These heathens need to stop dancing
and fight for their freedom!”
    “ Can’t you see they are fighting
the only way they know how- and it’s working. Look around you,
Antoine! Just look! Rich people, poor people, white, black, yellow,
red, purple, green, blue: they’re all together right now at this
very moment! At this moment we are all free! The spirits are
helping us see what is truly important! Unity and real freedom that
breaks rigid man-made boundaries! The spirits want us to be truly
free!” I spun round and around and at that moment