The Detroit tribune. (Detroit, Mich.) 1935-1966, 1942-06-13
Native Son


FIX the LdDle,
Vera. Breakfasts ready" the moth
er called.
"Yessum."
Bigger sat at the table and wait
ed for food. Maybe this would be
the last time he would eat here.
He felt It keenly and 1t helped him
to have patience. Maybe someday
he would be eating in jail. Here he
was sitting with them and they
did not know that he had murder
ed a white girl and cut her head
OF and burnt her body. The
thought OF what he had done, the
awful horror OF 1t, the daring asso-
ciated with such actions, formed
for him for the first time in his
fear-ridden life BARRED Of
protection between him and a world
he feared. He had murdered aud
had created a new life for himself.
1t was something that was all his
own, and II was the first time In
his life he had had anything that
others could not take from him.
Yes; he could sit here calmly aud
eat and not be concerned about
what his family thought or did. He
had a natural wall from behind
which he could look at them. His
crime was an anchor weighing him
safely In time: 1t added to him a
certain confidence which his gun
and knife did not. He was outside
OF his family now. over and beyond
them; they were incapable OF even
thinking that he had done such a
deed. And he had done something
which even he had not thought pos
sible.
Though he had killed by acct
dent, not once did he feel the need
to tell himself that 1t had been an
accident. He was black and he had
been alone in @ room where white
girl had been killed; therefore he
had killed her. That was what ev-
erybody would say anyhow. no mat
ter what he said. And in a certain
sense he knew that the girls death
had not been accidental. He had
killed many times before. only on
those other times he had been no
handy victim OF circumstance 20
make misible or dramatic his will
to kill. His crime seemed natural,
he felt that all his life had been
leading to something like this. 1t
was no longer a matter OF dumb
wonder as TO what would happen to
him and his black skin: he knew
now. The hidden meaning OF his
life-a meaning which others did
tried TO hide-he spilled out. No;
II was no accident, and he would
never say that II was. There was in
him a kind Of terrified pride In
feeling and thinking that some day
he would be able to say publicly
that he had done II. II was as
though he had an obscure but deep
debt to fulfill to himself In accept
ing the deed.
Now that the ice was broken.
could he not do other things? What
was there to stop him? While sit
ting there at the table waiting for
his breakfast, he felt that he was
arriving at something which had
long eluded him. Things we're be-
coming clear; he knew how to act
from now on. The thing TO do was
to act just like others acted, live
like they lived. and while they
we're not looking, do what he want
ed. They would never know. He
felt In the quiet presence Of his
mother, brother and sisted a force,
inarticulate and unconscious. max
ing for living without thinking,
making for peace and habit, making
for a hope that blinded. He felt
that they wanted and yearned TO soc
life in a certain way; they needed
a certain picture OF the world:
there was one way Of living they
preferred above all others; and
they we're blind 10 what did not ft.
They did not want TO see what
others we're doing II that doing did
not feed their own desires. All one
had TO do was 10 be bold, do some
thing nobody thought OF. The
whole thing cane TO him In the form
OF q powerful and simple feeling:
there was in everyone a great hun
ger 10 believe that made him blind.
and n he could see while others
were blind: then he could get what
he wanted and never be caught at
Il. Now, who on earth would think
that he. black tinid Negro boy.
would murder and burn rich white
girl and would sit and wait for his
breakfast like thisf Elation filled
him.
He sat At the table watching the
snow fall past the window and
many fhings became plain. No, ne
ala not have % hide behind . wall
or q curtain now, he had safer
WY Of being ssfA IN easier way