After Douglass and Jacobs

"An Incident in the Life of a Slave Mother"

After Frederick Douglass’ Narrative and Harriet Jacobs’ Incidents

Events from two biographies of courageous African-American ex-slaves inspired a fictitious scene exploring what it would be like to be in the time and place where the color of your skin was the primary factor determining your legal status.

“Go and hide, Master’s coming,” I told Elijah.

He did what his mother told him, the poor obedient child. I saw that he locked himself in the cupboard with the good dishes.  “Ma, is he mad at me for picking his cabbages? I only saw that one stuck up out of the ground where the rabbits would get it –”

“Quiet, child,” I said, hearing the clomp of my master’s new riding boots against the hard, packed summer dirt out on the lane. My feet pulsed against the swollen floorboards as the door open and I saw his face.

If I were able to find the words to describe it to you, I would, but it was all I could do was force myself to look away from the cabinet where Elijah was and face the man cut out of stone not fit to make Adam out of. I figure that’s why God made the first man out of dirt, so he wouldn’t be so hard or greedy when he came against fellow creatures, as surely the Lord knew the darkness in man’s heart.

He’d just come from riding his new stallion, I could tell by the riding crop in his raised hand. “Turn around,” my master said, and before I could he grabbed my shoulder and tore the coarse dress at the collar across my scarred collarbone. It was all I could do to look away from the cabinet and keep my mouth closed, swallowing my shouts as he struck me again and again with the stick, raising welts on my ebony skin.