The Story of Sissy

by Lady Katherine

 

You couldn't have it if you DID want it,' the Queen said. 'The rule is, jam to-morrow and jam yesterday--but never jam to-day.'
It MUST come sometimes to "jam to-day,"' Alice objected.
'No, it can't,' said the Queen. 'It's jam every OTHER day: to-day isn't any OTHER day, you know.'
I don't understand you,' said Alice. 'It's dreadfully confusing!'

   

 

THE WOMEN'S WAR....

            Before I tell this next part of my life I must explain a few things. Despite being a southern girl for years I am a Yankee. Secondly I am only half white. In a state that has intolerance against blacks I am suspect because I am, actually half American Indian from the five nations. I am, never the less dark skinned. The events that follow perhaps would not have happened had I been a full white woman with alabaster skin or if I did not treat all races as equals. But if life ever taught me one truth it is simply that - hatred, because of what people are is always wrong. There was a time in this land when people hated blacks and Jews and fagots and told you so. You knew them for what they were and treated them appropriately. These days we are shackled by being politically correct, it does not change the bigots but it does force them into hiding where they can work their hatred in secret. 150 years of culture taught southern women their responsibilities and blacks their place. But I was a half-breed. I could be mistaken for a light skinned black. So I slipped between two cultures. Finally I have never been unfaithful to my husband; he is the only man I have ever given my self to. But that is not saying that I have not been tempted.

            In the years that my girls were in their late teens I knew enough to realize to back off the reigns a bit on my girls as they discovered boys charms for the first time. At this point they have a complete set of moral codes. Now the trick is to get them to use them. When the hate of the sixties came back and filled our valley with intolerance in the late eighties. I never expected to have my daughters stand so tall and so strong that I knew my girls would be fine after I am gone to a better life.

           It all began quite innocently during that hot summer. My girls and I would go down to the grange hall. Here was a meeting place of many cultures and races and on summer nights people would gather with their musical instruments and sing and play. It was a fun time. It was a place where you could forget for a moment the pain in your life and be happy. Frank was away in Atlanta much of the time. The farm was absorbing nearly all of our income for the few years it took to change over to cotton. When he was home he would stay up nights with David working on the books. But he knew I loved the fun at the grange and my girls loved the boys and dancing. So he would have me take them. It was there I meet a guy named Abraham. He was a beautiful black man. Perfect as a sculpted Greek god and so beautiful I knew my body would love to respond to his sex and he was attracted to me. He was not a field hand either, he was a graduate of John Carver collage. As I said had I been all white he would have known his place. We would dance together when I came. He was a perfect dancer and he wheeled me about the room beautifully. Afterward he would walk us home in the dark. We would talk of the stars in the heavens and their names. As we passed by the Applebee farm one night a man grabbed me from behind. Now, no woman who has ever been raped ever gets over it, --ever! Feelings I had thought were far behind me came rushing to my thoughts. Terror so strong I could taste it welled up in me. I screamed and tired to break free. But I was never a strong male and even a weaker female and I could not break free. My whole mind was on getting away. I do not think I was completely sane at that point. But through a haze of pure fear I perceived some of what was happening in distorted time. Men in white sheets held my girls and I. Two others had Abraham. The leader in clan sheets spoke to Abe.

"You're an uppity nigger boy. Were going to teach you that you should not dance with white women. As for you Sissy Freeborn we don't war on white women but you and your girls better learn you can't go on with niggers. Only thing keeping you from getting a beating is your husband's station in this valley."

I screamed again as they hit Abraham with a bat, it knocked him to the road. A second man came out and hit him several more times. My shoulder flashed in pain of memory of my father's beatings. As I watched they kept beating him. And telling me it was my fault he was being hit because I let him dance with me.

Rage! Blinding, white-hot rage flowed over me. I had only felt this way once before and I had nearly killed one man and broke the foot of a woman. I lashed out with the only thing left free, my legs I nearly walked up my captor's body trying to free myself! I caught the arm of the leader with my foot and he dropped his gun on the hard stone road.

"Leroy Hawkenberry! I know who you are! You and your kin are always causing trouble in this valley and by god you're going to pay for this. You can't hide under that ridicules sheet I screeched!"

"That's to bad he said as he picked up his gun. Cause you going to die you nigger loving white trash. Your daddy was probably a nigger anyway."

I had stopped the beating by turning their attention on me but now I was surly going to die. I was so mad I didn't care. My only regret was my girls would everlastingly be haunted by seeing their mother die violently. He brought the gun about five inches from my face. I could feel my mother's emerald burn my chest like fire as I watched him slowly cock the gun. He was enjoying this. In what seemed like a lifetime. I watched as he pulled the hammer back. The cylinder of the gun with the lead bullet in it turned and aligned with the barrel. Then he squeezed the trigger and I watched in slow motion as the hammer came falling down to the cylinder.

            Click!

The gun did not go off. The man pulled the gun away and looked at it stupidly. He re-cocked the gun and placed the barrel on my forehead. Again he pulled the trigger. Again the gun failed to go off.

"Witch! You are a witch, you and that aunt of yours. Well there are ways of killing witches too."

In a motion I really did not see, he swing the useless gun and the barrel caught me in the temple. The man holding me let me go I and I remember falling with Elizabeth's screams in my ears. Then I remember nothing.

I awoke up on the road with a splitting headache and unable to see out of one eye. The men in the white sheets had gone. The girls had stopped a black man from the grange. And were loading Abe in the car. Our hospital in the next valley was white only so I knew they would not take Abe even if he were dying. Which in fact he was (In the years since they have changed that policy. However I suspect, though can't prove, that the care given to black's is far from the same as white's. As I have said we suffer from being politically correct but there is still racism in this nation and our valley is no exception.). The man would take him to a black vet near there. It was the only medical attention he would get.

           As for us we walked home helping each other. When we walked in, our clothes torn and blood down my face. David and Frank demanded what happened and went to call the doctor and Diane. As we told our story I could see Frank get madder and madder. I knew what he was feeling though I could not understand it. Diane came in and began to treat my girl's bruises and my head. When Frank's father came in I was not as surprised at him being there as I was the shotgun he held in his arms. I was about to speak when Frank and David came into the room each holding rifles.

"Where are you going with those guns I asked worriedly?"

"Hunting, Sissy we're going hunting said Frank."

"At this time of night! I exclaimed knowing the answer."

"Man's got to protect two things this in this life aunt Sissy. One is his property and the other his wife said David."

"David I never expected you spouting this stuff where will it end I asked?"

"This is men's stuff said Franks father. Don't you girls mind about it. Women can't understand."

With that the three walked out the door.

No I didn't understand men's stuff the desire to face down a rival male for infringement on your territory? It never did make sense to me. Women were much more sensible. We try to make arraignments were everyone can be happy. The only time women get violent is when someone attacks those who are dear to them. Then we defend with everything we have. The female is far deadlier than the male when she does. But this men's stuff was totality alien to me.

           I sent my girls to bed and Diane and I fell asleep in each other's arms waiting for news of our men. In the morning the men returned. It was obvious they had been in a fight and it was a bloody one, but it was not their blood on them. As worried as I was I knew I would not get an answer to my questions so I didn't ask. Diane took the men's bloody clothes and we washed them. We are women, it is what we do, evidence be dammed. I was still a bit dizzy but the doctor said it was just a bruise and gave me a list of symptoms I should look for if it were anything more.

I was told later that Hawkenberry and three of his friends were in jail. So Frank was not a murderer. But they did not fair to well in the transport. When our men dropped them off at the sheriff's office Hawkenberry had both arms broken and three broken ribs. They were charged with attempted murder of Abe, pistol whipping me and attacking my daughters. The gun they had used to hit me with was there as well. It had a broken firing pin. Done probably in the fall to the stone road.

           One curious thing from that night was the square burn blister on my chest where my emerald pendent rested. The doctor dismissed it saying the mind can produce real wounds when we are stressed. And surly I was that! ... Still.

            Many people tell about that night when a man pulled the trigger and the gun didn't go off. But the part about the broken firing pin is always omitted. They love to tell tall tales of ghosts and witches around the campfires here in these hills.

           The trial, if one could categorize it as one, lasted only a day. The four were convicted of pistol whipping me and hurting my girls but found not guilty on the attempted murder charge. The KKK lives still. They were all given 18 months and released on probation. But everyone got the message that the Freeborn and Steward families own half the valley and don't mess with any of them. Unfortunately Hawkenberry was rather stupid.

           As for Abe, he was hurt so badly it was a miracle he didn't die but he would never walk again. Frank had forbid me to visit him. I felt bad about that but I would not go against Franks wishes. A woman then could not out and out disobey her husband. It did not matter much for Abe had the mental capacity of a child now. And had no memory of who he was. Or fortunately what he had been.

           A few weeks later we were awakened in the night by a commotion on the front lawn when we got there a cross was burning in the grass.

"Well were in it now girl Frank said to me."

"I have been stupid again haven't I Frank!"

"Well love in for a dime in for a dollar. I can put this cross out but you have set a fire that will burn in this valley for a lot longer."

"Well if men can't put this out then perhaps the women can. Anyway I have to try."

"Sissy you have no idea who you are dealing with, the clan is nothing to fool with."

"Frank ...they hurt people."

"Well I know by now I can't stop you. Dad says you are just like a lighting rod. If there be a storm a coming you'll attract the first bolt of lighting just like all of the Stewards. But I think he is proud of you anyway."

But if Mr. Freeborn was proud of me aunt Pat was not.

"Sissy Freeborn you haven't the brains god gave you! What ever possessed you to dance with that colored fellow in the first place? No self-respecting white woman would ever do that. And don't you dare tell me I didn't teach you how to be a lady because I did. And don't you dare tell me of what sex you were born. You have been a wife and mother for years now and not some white trash female looking for a black stud!"

"Aunt Pat! I never..."

"You know how people talk here especially about the Freeborns and the Stewards. They just love even a hint of a scandal if one of the prominent families are in it."

"Is that what all this is about, me dancing with another man or a black man?"

"Don't get cute with me Sissy. You have better female instincts than I do. People here would not even care if you had a lover. Though I expect they would whisper about it. But a colored man! Sissy there are those that say your father must have been black and you are a negress. How can I stop those stories when you do so stupid a thing! Like dancing with colored as if they were you equal. I have no problem with that but the valley sure does."

"Aunt Pat I have been hated from the day I was born for what I am! The Indians don't want me because I am half white. The whites don't want me because they say I am half Indian or worse black. The church does not want me because I am a queer and they consider me a male no matter how female I look. It follows me like my shadow it is just not fair."

"Who said life was fair Sissy! Life promises you only one thing, to be born. After that it is all up to you to make what you can out of what you have."

"The ten talents parable again I smiled?"

"And as true as the day He spoke it. You are a good woman Sissy and as good a mother as I have ever seen. Your mother would be so proud of you. Life has forged you into hard strong sword steel. I believe God has put you here to be a firebrand."

"Then you are not mad at me aunte?"

"You have been trouble for me from the time I put you in a dress. Your heart can't let an injustice to anybody go on. So I could never stay mad at you for long. Nor do you stand-alone sweetheart the women of this valley are by your side. As you were when they needed you. You need only to call them to action. Frank tells me you have a plan."

Aunt Pat always knew what to say to me. Though I wished I had her faith in me. She would have been a great mother if God had blessed her with a child. Instead all she got was a half-breed transsexual. She was right all along life is not fair.

In those days I ran a Christian free store. For the ones not born in that time. It is like a mission as much as a store. All the items were free, from clothing to food. If you had money you paid what you could afford or traded what you had for what you needed. We gave away coffee, advice and Christian love for free. We had cots in the basement for the ones who need a place to crash for the night. The price for them was a bit of clean up of the store and some sales clerking. It did not matter what your skin color was or ethnic background. So of course some people with holes in their sheets viewed it as an affront to white power. I was not surprised when the clan showed up one night. They came in with cans of kerosene and began to douse the place with the fluid. When I objected Diane and I were tied up to a supporting column in the store and doused with kerosene.

"Leroy you are going to far I said."

"You can kill witches by fire. This time you will die he replied."

"Look let Diane go she has done nothing, I tried to reason with them but they ignored me. When they went for the torches out front. Ruth Mabon came in the back door and cut us lose."

"Come, she said ...........we have them!"

We walked out the front door and I saw why they had not returned with the torches. They were faced with about thirty women some with guns and all with a grim look of determination. There in the front of them was my Elizabeth with Franks 12 gauge pointed at Leroy.

"Put that gun down little girl before you hurt your self. And let men do what needs to be done we will let your mother go we were just funning yelled Leroy in a laughing manner."

"Mr. Pucket my mama told me never to make promises to strange men. But so help me God I promise you if you try to hurt my mama again ill open you up like a ripe watermelon with this scattergun."

"I would listen to her Hawkenberry she has never in her life lied to me and Frank taught her how to shoot that shotgun I said quietly."

"Get her yelled Hawkenberry!"

Dumb move! Elizabeth was always the determined one. She always followed through. It was what won her so many horse shows. Her first shot took Pucket in the legs. If she was using 00 buckshot she would have removed them both from Hawkenberry's body. Instead Hawkenberry screamed in pain and fell down. A second shot hit him in the rear end. The other women were firing also at other targets and they also were screaming in agony but I saw little blood. One of the men knocked over the can of kerosene and the liquid ran under their pickup truck. A second man hit with two full loads dropped his lighted torch and in seconds the pickup was in flames.

"My truck screamed Leroy."

And he went for the truck. But up stepped Aunt Pat to block his path with her 357 handgun. "Leave this valley Hawkenberry! We don't want the clan here, or you and your kin. We want our children to grow up with out this kind of nonsense."

"Ill be back Patricia and with the clan."

"I think not it is one thing to fight men but when you deal with women not even the clan is that stupid. If you ever come back to this valley ill personally see you shot."

The women began shooting again and the men were driven off into the night leaving Hawkenberry's truck burning instead of a cross.

Elizabeth came up to me and exclaimed, "Did I do good mama?"

"You did wonderful sweetheart and I kissed her."

"Maggie organized all of them and I got to lead them here. She chirped."

"But how did you know they would be here?"

"Granny Pat! She found out from the wives. Men are so stupid thinking their wives don't know what they are up to."

"Sometimes I think she is a witch the way she knows these things? Say just what was in those shotguns. It was sure as hell not buckshot, that I do know I exclaimed."

"Just rock salt mama! You know I could never really hurt anyone don't you."

"Well ill be dammed. I am so proud of you my girl you have no idea. I began to cry."

"Don't cry mama I will never forget how you were there when the house fell on me. I love you so much mama. And she put her arms around me with so much love."

Aunt Pat and I watched with amusement that Sunday in church as more than a few men came in and sat down gingerly with obvious pain from sore bottoms. Quite a few women came in with smug looks on their faces. Like always,- The tradition in these hills tall tales were spun that told about what happened. It is known by those who verbalize history as the "women's war". I am just proud I played a small part in it and have gone down in the tales of theses good people. As for Hawkenberry well he never came back to our valley and we learned that he died from cancer about two years later. There is a unofficial sign that says the clan doesn't live here any more and hate mongers need not apply. You can't see it on the road but it is there in spirit. It is signed by the will of the women of this community. Don't get me wrong there is still prejudice in this valley but at least it is not violent.

            Frank and I were back in love again. For the first time in so long a time we saw the truth. We loved each other so much that no matter what the world threw at us our love would get us through it. I had his ring and he gave me his heart and I opened the door to my soul. We were like kids again. We spent nights laughing with our children. When I noticed Margaret was missing from the family more and more often. She was unusually happy of late and less than talkative. She was spending her time with Nancy's boy Arthur.

  

  

  

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