Now I Can Dream: Adult Black Males and the Mentors That Saved Them
“OK,” I said, fascinated by the fact he knows what’s at the forefront of my thoughts, and began to internalize. In the early 70's, I moved to Louisiana, Raceland to be precise, with my mother, sister and stepfather as a result of his layof from a job in Cleveland, Ohio. One day, after we had been living there for several months, I was asked by my step-cousins to attend the show (a movie theatre) in nearby Thibodaux. I was extremely excited; moviegoing was then and continues to be one of my favorite pastimes. I recall rushing to the ticket line, wanting to be the frst one of our group (which consisted of two step-cousins and a friend) to get into the theatre. After I got in line, my step-cousin called me. “Hey Ricky, what chu doin?” I responded, “I’m gon' be the frst to git my ticket!” He countered, “Git yo butt outta line!” “No!’ I shouted.” I knew he was mad that I was going to be frst; I won! It had not dawned upon me that I was the only Black person in line. Not once. After a couple of shouts back and forth, he and my other step-cousin came and pulled me out of the line, me kicking and screaming the entire time. When they constrained me, I looked back at the line, on the verge of tears, thinking we would not go to the movies that day. He said, “We still goin to the movie, so hush up!” I was suddenly placated, but unsure, because we continued walking towards the side of the theatre. I then noticed the metal steps that led up to the mezzanine section of the movie and I was beginning to think we were going to sneak in. But, I thought, all those people are gonna know what we’re doing and we will certainly get caught. I didn’t care. When we got to the mezzanine section, after climbing the two flights of stairs, it was a huge disappointment. There were approximately three rows of chairs, with about six seats per row. There was a glass counter
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