DON’T FORGET TO PAY THE MAN

by Jay Whittington

“Dressed in the emptiness of white she walks to a funeral dirge to the altar of sacrifice”
~Narrator

CAST

SISTA #1 – African American woman dressed in “Sunday’s best” hat tipped to the side
THE CHICK – African American woman in a wedding dress Pastor
Freddy the groom
Narrator

SISTA #1

Gurl,
As I walked into the room of doom that resembled a decorated tomb
I felt the chill of the ice, dipped in vice
Dam! the church looked nice for this chick’s sacrifice
The music began to play
The groom’s face in disarray
The pastor practicing to say that we are “gathered here today”
So, I took my seat in this sultry heat, not skipping a beat, hair on rinse and repeat
Dressed so clean in this room fit for the Queen
But Let me set the scene as to why things weren’t so quite serene

The Pastor was lookin’ casket fresh, suit pressed,
Bible clutched to his chest we all dressed in Sunday best
But I digress, girl let me tell you ‘bout dis mess

See,
the crux was in the tux!

Smooth and steady was Freddy, always willing and ready
The man who understands who’s really good with his hands
down and dirty slightly flirty, little bit over thirty
Has a kid on the way, I actually think the kid was due today
But with no regret he was ready to take that step
Now I know why Jesus wept but here comes the intercept

See, the doors flew open!
Father of the bride stood chokin’
Folks got wokin’, the spell over the church broken
And there She stood with regal dignity, releasing the chains of her lost identity
not ‘bout to be bonded in stupidity, but baby let me bring you clarity

Baby!
The Chick Wore White

Framed by the door dressed for war
Ivory drippin’ from her veins
bleeding from the pains, her fury taking the reins
folks started talkin’ she stalkin’ power walkin’ to an unrelenting moment of madness filled with gladness
Breaking through the bondages of sadness
She passed my pew in a hurry
eyes blurry
in a flurry of fine lace adorned majesty and grace
her mask in place
unleashing her freedom from servitude,
with an attitude not a platitude but with sheer gratitude
Baby was dressed to slay not here to play, then we hear her say

THE CHICK

“Do I take this man? Take him where?
Take him to the river of independent thought to drown him in my freedom?
Take him where?
Take him to the mountain top to see if HE can fly on them clipped wings that he expects me to? BABY! Take him where?
Take him to the mirror to show him the reflection of his inadequacies and their need to see me bleed?
Where exactly am I supposed to be taking him?”

SISTA #1

Yeah, The Chick Wore White

Color of Rage
photograph
Monet Khanyahl