The Phoenix index., 1942-04-18
NATIVE son
BY RICHARD WRIGHT


as soon as she was missed. No; it
would be far better to stick it out
and see what happened. 1t might
be long time before anyone would
think that Mary was killed and
still longer time before any
one would think that he had done
it. And when Mary was missed,
would they not think of the Reds
first?
The street car rumbled up and
he got On and rode to- Forty
seventh Street, where he transfer
red to an eastbound car. He looked
anxiously al the dim reflection Of
his black face in the sweaty win
dowpane. Would any of the white
faces ali about him think he had
killed a rich white girl? No! They
might think he would steal a dime.
rape a women, get drunk, or cut
somebody, but to kill a million
aires daughter and burn her body?
He smiled little, feeling a ting
ling sensation enveloping all his
body. He saw it all very sharply
and simply; act like other people
thought you ought to act, yet do
what you wanted. In a certain
sense he had done just that in q
loud and rough manner all his
life, but it was only last night
when he smothered Mary in her
room while her blind mother had
stood with oUtstretched arms that
he had seen how clearly it could
be done. Although he was tre1n-
bling a little, he was not really
afraid. He was eager. tre-
mendously excited. I can take care
OF them, he thought, thinking of
There was only one thing that
worried him; he had to set that
lingering image Of Mary's bloody
head lying ON those newspapers
from before his eyes. If that were
done, then ne would be all right.
Gee, what fool she was. he
thought. remembering how Mary
had acted. Carrying On that way!
Hell, she made me do it'll /
couldn't help it! She should've
known better! She should've left
me alone.
He did not feel sorry for Mary:
she was not real to him, not hu-
man being; he had not known her
long or well enough for that. He
felt that his murder of her was
that her actions had evoked fear
and shame in him. But when he
thought hard about it il seemed
impossible that they could have
He really did not know just where
that fear and shame had come
from; it had just been there, that
was all Each time he had come
IN contact with her it had risen
hot and hard.
it was not Mary he was reacting
to when he felt that fear anG
shame. Mary had served to set off
his emotions, emotions condition
ed by many Marys. And now that
he had killed Mary he felt a les
senlng of tension in his muscles;
he had she'd an invisible burden
he had long carried
AS the car lurched over the snow
he lifted his eyes and saw black
people upon the snow covered
sidewalks. Those people had feel
lngS of fear and shame like his.
Many a time he had stood on
street corners with them aud talk
ed of white people as long sleek
cars Hoomed past. To Bigger and
his kind white people were. not
really people; they were a sort of
great natural force, like stormy
sky looming overhead, or like a
deep swIrling river stretching sud
denly at ones feet in the da%k
As long as he and his black folks
did not 60 beyond certain limits,
there was no need to fear that
white force. But whether they
feared it or not. each and every
day of their lives thev lived with
it: even when words did not sound
it's name, they acknowledged it's
reality. AS long as they lived
here in this prescribed corner of
the city. they paid mute tribute
to it.
There were rare moments when
feeling and longing for solidar-
ity with other black people would
take hold of him He would dream
of making stand sgainst that
white force. but that dream would