Reflection of 12 Years a Slave -- A Poem for Patsey

If you haven't seen the movie, 12 Years a Slave, go see it as soon as you get it a chance. If your children are mature enough, take them as well! It is the powerful true story of Solomon Northup, born a free man but later kidnapped into life as a slave as an adult. Based on his biological narrative (that also became a bestseller), the movie brings his words to life, recounting the 12 years he spent in chattel slavery. 

I caught a late matinee viewing of the movie this past Monday. Not only did Solomon's story leave me speechless and numb, but it was also the story of Patsey that lingered with me. A female slave who was endeared by the lustful eye of her master while also catching the jealous envy of his wife, Patsey story is complex and heart-wrenching. Her character comes to life through the acting of  Lupita Nyong’o who gives a moving performance of a woman stuck in a miserable existence. Perhaps it is because I am a black woman raising a black girl that she has been on my mind since Monday evening. This poem is for her and all other female slaves--known and unknown.

A Poem for Patsey

Pain so searing to watch that not

even my clenched jaws and jittery body could keep its eyes locked

And so I closed them,

Then opened them,

Just in time

to see your skin robbed blind

Of its color

Turned white flesh of what you used to be cocoa brown

Then I watched your eyes, mouth and soul flood

Capsized screams provided your heart no relief

Still could not get clean

Brother birthed scars

born from her evil heart--

black as tar--

Picked pure as white

Oh the irony of colors…

Master’s sin begot another

His selfish eyes

bore her haughtiness

bore his prideful pockets

bore her insolent bitterness

Bore your unclean skin

And your clean tears

Simultaneously, you are two in the same:

Courageous and ashamed

Is the water from my eyes enough?

I heard your cry for suicidal relief

Death equated to justice,

Believing your disbelief

Put the Lord’s mercy in the hands of another

Watched him smother the love inside you had yet to discover

His hate cracked your soul so hard you were numb

Building dolls in the same field from which blood dripped from your thumbs

Queen of the field

500 lbs each day

Can someone tell in what unmarked grave does your memory lay?

Queen of the field

Solomon introduced your life

McQueen gave you a face

And I carry traces of you in my spirit

Scatter them like flowers in my home

And embed them in these words

And all writings of mine that come thereafter

Clean and pure in the hereafter.

-Copyright, Tiffany Williams