Disclaimer: Based on the episode "Liberty or Death" where Sarah, James, Henri, and Moses travel to Virginia to buy a new printing press. There the kids get their first view of a slave auction, something that Moses knows all too well. They also learn that Cato, Moses' brother, is being auctioned off. They try to buy Cato's freedom, but fail. This is Moses looking back, after the war, on the moment when he was dragged away from the auction.
Rating: PG for the "n" word, and maybe some other "bad" word, or variation of one that I slapped in this fic.
I wrote this to show more of Moses anger and hate towards slavery and the fact that he could not help Cato than what "Liberty's Kids", a show rated Y7, can allow.
Enigma of Identity
I am not dumb. This is something that I've told myself over and over. I am not dumb. And yet, when the scene plays in my head, in its hellish theatrics, I cannot help but think that I am, indeed, dumb.
I should have known that little would have changed in slave colonies. No, I did know. It seems that my personal emancipation gave me a sense of cocky egotism as well. I am their equal. In my head. And yet, am I lower than them, in reality. As hard as I try I will never be the white man's equal. I am either Negro, that's what the compassionate ones call me, or Nigger, that's what everyone else calls me. I am not Man, though I try to prove myself of it countless times. I work damn hard. I'm educated. I can read, write, and print English. I still remember Africa's words, sometimes its songs, its dress. I am not ignorant. I am not some ass, some animal that one can work and beat into dust and still return to its master.
And yet, with this intelligence that I somehow possess, I could not buy my brother. I could not free him or protect him. Older brothers, all around the world, are supposed to help their little brothers. I failed him. I could have lied. I could have had James pose as my master, I his slave. We could have pooled are money and bought Cato. James could have pretended that he was the son of a farmer from… Georgia or the Carolinas. His father was ill. They needed more workers. James could have lied to the group, given them some story.
But why didn't that happen? Because I am a failure. My own freedom gave me the inflated sense of… esteem. Of equality when I am not. It was stupid really. A Negro buying another, or as those willing to purchase Cato, a nigger buying a nigger. Did I really think it would work? Did I really think I could get him out without some controversy, without a lynching? I was so close to it. So close to death. What good would have resulted in my death? James and Sarah would have to navigate home, have to work the shop without me there. I am dumb! Dumb as the ass and ox that plows the fields! Who would have been there to help Henri with his English? Who would have been there to help them all?
I am dumb. And Cato is gone. To Canada. When will I be able to see him? Canada! My God!
What I am I? I am surely not Man; Man is free, respected, and strong! I am not Negro; Negro has an intellect that surprises the white Man! I am not Nigger; Nigger works for Man, slaves for them, produces for them! Am I a mystery? No. I… I am nothing. Not the liberated Man, not the intellectual Negro, not the laboring Nigger… I am nameless and dumb.
I am dumb! And alone.
Fin---
-
Alrighty… read and review. And please, no flames like
"OMG U RACEIST! U SED TEH N WURD! U H8 BLACK PPL! OMFG, GO 2 HELLLLLLLL! 11111one"
especially as I wrote it in a somewhat intelligent way. Though I probably am going to Hell, according to most internet fundies. Ooo, what if they have nurnburgers in Hell? They're like, these sausage things on a hot dog bun and they're covered in mustard. Had 'em in Germany when I visited a couple years ago. Dad makes 'em on the grill.
I don't like the ending. I have someone read it before I posted. He liked it. (shrugs)