It was like looking into scattered pieces of reflections from the past. From the very beginning, the ballerina had me reminiscing about my ballet classes and performances. Even the piano player, who played for the ballerina, triggered thoughts of piano lessons and church recitals.
And, as I listened to the woman, standing outside her man's door, ask him if he had a woman inside, a similar situation came to mind. It was a time when I was hugged up with a friend inside his place. While we slept, his woman came banging on the door and said that she knew he had a woman in the place with him.
Then, there was the man who had attempted to drive a cab, who drank too much alcohol, and who abused his woman and their children. Seeing the behavior of that person, brought back memories of my oldest brother who did drive a cab, who did drink too much alcohol, and who was the monster in my earliest years. Even the age of the man and the woman when they first fell in love, which was age fourteen, reminded me of the age I was when I first met and fell in love with a young man who I thought was my soul mate, which was age fourteen.
The talk about the old Buick put me in mind of the 1959 Buick that my father bought and gave to my mother even though she could not drive it. The couple that could not have children even put me in mind of my parents who could not biologically have children. The man's unconditional love for his wife, reminded me of my father's unconditional love he had towards my mother.
Stockbroker man reminded me of another man whom I met and fell in love with, later on in my life. He was not gay either but he did admit to finding himself in a compromising position with a male roommate after they both became too high off a drug and some alcoholic beverages.
Abortion scenes seemed all too real to me. The only difference was that I had my abortion performed in a legalized abortion clinic. Still, I vividly remembered the cold steel utensils lying in a large steel pan in front of me, waiting to go inside of me and snatch out a piece of my flesh and blood. Then, I thought about how guilty I felt after losing a small piece of myself.
I experienced a lot of weirdness in my life. The man who went to a woman's apartment for dinner and then took all of his clothes off before he took advantage of her, reminded me of one of my weird experiences. One time, my phone was out of order and I waited to get it repaired. However, I needed to make an important phone call so I went to a couple's apartment, a few doors from mine, to use their phone. The woman was gone to work but the man was kind enough to let me in. While I talked on the phone, I witnessed the man strip naked in front of me and then walk around the apartment that way. I became uncomfortable but was more in shock than anything else.
When I saw the ex-military man hang his children out of a fifth floor window, I immediately thought about a situation that I was in when I was dragged to the top floor window of an empty high-rise building and forced out of it. I remembered the ex-military man who held the hands of my naked body while I screamed and thought that I was going to die. The raped woman in the hospital only added true fuel to that past situation when she mentioned five men trying to run a train on a woman and how hard it would be for the woman to keep her legs closed.
And, watching the two sisters slap their mother across the face brought back the memory of a time when I slapped my mother across the face, twice. The difference was, I thought that my mother did not care about what would happen to my children and me. Another difference was, I felt guilt and remorse behind what I did, and the only mother I knew, forgave me. Then, I thought about the hardest part, which was forgiving myself.
Then, listening to the woman tell her oldest mixed-raced daughter that she was given to a white man, and then she gave birth to her, made me think about my grandmother. Of course, my grandmother was not given to a white man. Instead, she willingly gave herself to a white man and out of their love for one another, came my mother.
My past sexual behavior was similar to the whore's. Sometimes, I looked for love, but most of the time, I looked for revenge. At times, I cared, but most of the time, I did not care. And, in between those times, I was confused. Then, there were the times when I was caught up in my own games, and I got hurt, severely. But, no matter what my problems were, I can honestly confirm the high level of knowledge the movie "For Colored Girls" has regarding the portrayal of colored girls and the issues they encounter. I can confirm this because I am one of the colored girls who truly lived what this movie portrayed. That is my reality.
And, as I listened to the woman, standing outside her man's door, ask him if he had a woman inside, a similar situation came to mind. It was a time when I was hugged up with a friend inside his place. While we slept, his woman came banging on the door and said that she knew he had a woman in the place with him.
Then, there was the man who had attempted to drive a cab, who drank too much alcohol, and who abused his woman and their children. Seeing the behavior of that person, brought back memories of my oldest brother who did drive a cab, who did drink too much alcohol, and who was the monster in my earliest years. Even the age of the man and the woman when they first fell in love, which was age fourteen, reminded me of the age I was when I first met and fell in love with a young man who I thought was my soul mate, which was age fourteen.
The talk about the old Buick put me in mind of the 1959 Buick that my father bought and gave to my mother even though she could not drive it. The couple that could not have children even put me in mind of my parents who could not biologically have children. The man's unconditional love for his wife, reminded me of my father's unconditional love he had towards my mother.
Stockbroker man reminded me of another man whom I met and fell in love with, later on in my life. He was not gay either but he did admit to finding himself in a compromising position with a male roommate after they both became too high off a drug and some alcoholic beverages.
Abortion scenes seemed all too real to me. The only difference was that I had my abortion performed in a legalized abortion clinic. Still, I vividly remembered the cold steel utensils lying in a large steel pan in front of me, waiting to go inside of me and snatch out a piece of my flesh and blood. Then, I thought about how guilty I felt after losing a small piece of myself.
I experienced a lot of weirdness in my life. The man who went to a woman's apartment for dinner and then took all of his clothes off before he took advantage of her, reminded me of one of my weird experiences. One time, my phone was out of order and I waited to get it repaired. However, I needed to make an important phone call so I went to a couple's apartment, a few doors from mine, to use their phone. The woman was gone to work but the man was kind enough to let me in. While I talked on the phone, I witnessed the man strip naked in front of me and then walk around the apartment that way. I became uncomfortable but was more in shock than anything else.
When I saw the ex-military man hang his children out of a fifth floor window, I immediately thought about a situation that I was in when I was dragged to the top floor window of an empty high-rise building and forced out of it. I remembered the ex-military man who held the hands of my naked body while I screamed and thought that I was going to die. The raped woman in the hospital only added true fuel to that past situation when she mentioned five men trying to run a train on a woman and how hard it would be for the woman to keep her legs closed.
And, watching the two sisters slap their mother across the face brought back the memory of a time when I slapped my mother across the face, twice. The difference was, I thought that my mother did not care about what would happen to my children and me. Another difference was, I felt guilt and remorse behind what I did, and the only mother I knew, forgave me. Then, I thought about the hardest part, which was forgiving myself.
Then, listening to the woman tell her oldest mixed-raced daughter that she was given to a white man, and then she gave birth to her, made me think about my grandmother. Of course, my grandmother was not given to a white man. Instead, she willingly gave herself to a white man and out of their love for one another, came my mother.
My past sexual behavior was similar to the whore's. Sometimes, I looked for love, but most of the time, I looked for revenge. At times, I cared, but most of the time, I did not care. And, in between those times, I was confused. Then, there were the times when I was caught up in my own games, and I got hurt, severely. But, no matter what my problems were, I can honestly confirm the high level of knowledge the movie "For Colored Girls" has regarding the portrayal of colored girls and the issues they encounter. I can confirm this because I am one of the colored girls who truly lived what this movie portrayed. That is my reality.
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