Free at last!

By

Halford H. Fairchild

Published in Psych Discourse, Volume 33 (12), p. 15

I was born on the moon 35 years ago. I have lived in the Douglass Dome all of my life. Because my skin is White, I was born a slave. But on this night, I will take my own life because my soul yearns to be free! Yes, dear diary, this is a suicide note. On what authority does my master, because his skin is brown, deem him superior to me?

I have learned that a thousand years ago, the situation was reversed. White men and women ruled the Africana people and held them as slaves. Oh! Would it only be true today. I can scarcely believe that we Whites once ruled the earth, our subjugation seems to have gone forever.

But this slavery is an abomination to humanity. Why must I suffer the lash at the whim of my master? Why must my children be stolen from me in the dead of night, tearing my heart asunder in grief and sorrow? This is why many have killed their children, to spare them the indignity of a life of unrelenting servitude.

It was my mistake not to take my children’s lives; it was my father’s mistake not to take mine; and his father before him and on and on. But tonight I will do what should have been done on my birth: to end this life of perpetual misery. My plan is simple: I will walk from the Dome and cut a hole in my suit. My death will be slow and painful, but no worse than the living death of being a chattel slave to these Africana people.

My uncle whispered to me the story of when White men ruled the Earth. It was we who held the Africana people in subjugation. But somehow the Africana people, made strong by their own struggle for redemption, seized military and political control of the world. It seems, my uncle said, that White people were only too willing to vote an Africana person into political office or to place her in command of the military.

After a thousand years, Thomas Jefferson Baumfree, then President of North and South America, decreed that all persons with at least 51% White blood would be held in captivity for the duration of their lives. And we have now been enslaved for 400 years if my uncle is to be believed.

I, for one, do not believe it. How is it possible for my miserable brethren, illiterate, poor and helpless, to ever have rule the world?

How could anyone challenge the Africanas, with their hyper space drives and bombs that can destroy a planet?

My life is pure misery. We toil 15 hours a day, with scarcely a moment’s rest, to refuel the starships that park in our orbit. The lower gravity doesn’t help much when the tankers that we push and pull weigh a million tons. So today, dear diary, I will get my freedom. I will escape to that home in heaven where paradise is to be found.

What kind of life is this where every moment we are made to feel ugly because of the color of our skin and the shapes of our noses? This skin is a wicked veil that marks us from the cradle as inferior. And I will tell you that there are White men and women who are as attractive as the most attractive Africana person. But, then, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, according to a saying that goes back into antiquity.

Even our names are ascribed to us. Who was my mother? My father? What is my real name? My master was said by some to be my father, but I have no sign of his brown skin in my paleness. Oh! Would that I did! For I would be free. Only those who are half or more White--the 51% rule--are deemed the kinds of infidels and barbarians that require our enslavement. They want to tell us that slavery is good for us; that if left to our own devices we would destroy ourselves in an epilepsy of self directed violence. But they are wrong, for I want to be free!

Oh veil of night

Hear my sorrowful plight

I stand on the edge of eternity

My life over; a certainty

This institution, as peculiar as it is, is bad for the White slaves. But it is also bad for the Africana masters. It has made them cruel. They treat us like animals, branding our backs with their insignia. They deny us an opportunity to learn, keeping us forever ignorant of our wretched condition. We are chastised and despised for not knowing what we have not been taught. We have been sent, all of us, to live on this desolate rock that circles the Earth, so that the Africana people need not experience the revulsion they have for our pale bodies. Their only debate is how to ensure the free trade of our enslaved bodies. What a cruel irony! Their men rape our women and claim their mixed children as their property, to be bought and sold at auction. What kind of man would sell his own son or daughter into this hell of existence? How can they claim to be enlightened when they practice such barbarity?

Since when would the color of one’s skin mark him a slave for life? Since forever, it seems.

But tonight I find my freedom in that endless sleep that claim all that live on Earth or in space.

The night, cold

My heart, broken

Our nation state, a mockery

Of Freedom and Justice

My suit, torn

My life, past

Free at last, Lord

I am free at last!