Gregory Dick - Nigger : an autobiography

FIRST ONE DIGITAL PUBLISHING

A Division of Blackwave Digital

Cincinnati, New York, Los Angeles

www.firstonepublishing.com

Nigger

Dick Gregory

All rights reserved, no one is authorized to reproduce any portion of this book without

the written consent of Dick Gregory

Copyright 2011 by Dick Gregory

First Edition

Nigger/Dick Gregory

p. cm.

ISBN: 978-1-936445-196

This is a revolution. It started long before I came into it, and I may die before its over, but well bust this thing and cut out this cancer. America will be as strong and beautiful as it should be, for black folks and white folks. Well all be free then, free from a system that makes a man less than a man, that teaches hate and fear and ignorance.

You didnt die a slave for nothing, Momma. You brought us up. You and all those Negro mothers who gave their kids the strength to go on, to take that thimble to the well while the whites were taking buckets. Those of us who werent destroyed got stronger, got calluses on our souls. And now were ready to change a system, a system where a white man can destroy a black man with a single word. Nigger.

When were through, Momma, there wont be any niggers anymore.

Dear MommaWherever you are, if ever you hear the word nigger again, remember they are advertising my book.

This page is for Marjorie Rubin,

who helped to make all the other pages possible.

Richard Claxton Gregory was born on Columbus Day 1932. A welfare case. Youve seen him on every street corner in America. You knew he had rhythm by the way he snapped his cloth while he shined your shoes. Happy little black boy, the way he grinned and picked your quarter out of the air. Then he ran off and bought himself a Twinkie cupcake, a bottle of Pepsi-Cola, and a pocketful of caramels.

You didnt know that was his dinner. And you never followed him home.

Its a sad and beautiful feeling to walk home slow on Christmas Eve after youve been out hustling all day, shining shoes in the white taverns and going to the store for the neighbors and buying and stealing presents from the ten-cent store, and now its dark and still along the street and your feet feel warm and sweaty inside your tennis sneakers even if the wind finds the holes in your mittens. The electric Santa Clauses wink at you from windows. You stop off at your best friends house and look at his tree and give him a ballpoint pen with his name on it. You reach into your shopping bag and give something to everybody there, even the ones you dont know. It doesnt matter that they dont have anything for you because it feels so good to be in a warm happy place where grown-ups are laughing. There are daddies around. Your best friends so happy and excited, standing there trying on all his new clothes. As you walk down the stairs you hear his mother say: Boo, you forgot to say good-bye to Richard, say good-bye to Richard, Boo, and wish him a...

Then youre out on the street again and some of the lights have gone out. You take the long way home, and Mister Ben, the grocer, says, Merry Christmas, Richard, and you give him a present out of the shopping bag, and you smile at a wino and give him a nickel, and you even wave at Grimes, the mean cop. Its a good feeling. You dont want to get home too fast.

And then you hit North Taylor, your street, and something catches your eye and you lift your head up and its there in your window. Cant believe it. You start running and the only thing in the whole world youre mad about is that you cant run fast enough. For the first time in a long while the cracked orange door says: Come on in, little man, youre home now, and theres a wreath and lights in the window and a tree in the kitchen near the coal closet and you hug your momma, her face hot from the stove. Oh, Momma, Im so glad you did it like this because ours is new, just for us, everybody elses tree been up all week long for other people to see, and, Momma, ours is up just for us. Momma, oh, Momma, you did it again.

My beautiful momma smiles at me like Miss America, and my brothers and sisters dance around that little kitchen with the round wooden table and the orange-crate chairs.

Go get the vanilla, Richard, said Momma, Presley, peel some sweet potatoes. Go get the bread out the oven, Dolores. You get away from that duckling, Garland. Ronald, oh, Ronald, you be good now, stand over there with Pauline. Oh, Richard, my little man, did you see the ham Miz White from the Eat Shop sent by, and the bag of nuts from Mister Myers and the turkey from Miz King, and wouldnt you know, Mister Ben, he...

Hey, Momma, I know some rich people dont got this much, a ham, and a turkey, Momma...

The Lord, Hes always looking out for my boys, Richard, and this aint all, the white folksll be by here tomorrow to bring us more things.

Momma was so happy that Christmas, all the food folks brought us and Mister Ben giving us more credit, and Momma even talked the electric man into turning the lights on again.

Hey, Momma, look here, got a present for Daddy. A cigarette lighter, Momma, theres even a place to scratch a name on it.

What you scratch on it, Richard, Big Pres or Daddy?

Nothing, Momma. Might have to give Daddys present to old Mister White from the Eat Shop again.

She turned away and when she turned back her eyes were wet. Then she smiled her Miss America smile and grabbed my shoulder. Richard, my little man, if I show you something, you wont tell nobody, will you?

What is it, Momma?

I got something for you.

Oh, Momma, you forgot, everythings under the tree.

This is something special, just for you, Richard.

Thanks, Momma, oh, thanks, howd you know I wanted a wallet, Momma, a real wallet like men have?

Momma always gave each of us something special like that, something personal that wasnt under the tree, something we werent supposed to tell the other kids about. It always came out, though. Garland and Id be fighting and one of us would say, Momma likes me better than you, look what she gave me, and we both found out the other got a secret present, too.

But I loved that wallet. First thing I did was fill out the address card. If I got hit by a car someone would know who I am. Then I put my dollars in it, just like men do. Ran outside that night and got on a streetcar and pulled out my wallet and handed the conductor a dollar.

Got anything smaller, boy?

Sure, mister, I said and I pulled out my wallet again and took a dime out of the coin purse and snapped it shut and put the dollar back in the long pocket and closed the wallet and slipped it into my back pocket. Did the same thing on the way back home.

Did we eat that night! It seemed like all the days we went without food, no bread for the baloney and no baloney for the bread, all the times in the summer when there was no sugar for the Kool-Aid and no lemon for the lemonade and no ice at all were wiped away. Man, were all right.

After dinner I went out the back door and looked at the sky and told God how nobody ever ate like we ate that night, macaroni and cheese and ham and turkey and the old ducklings cooking in the oven for tomorrow. Theres even whiskey, Momma said, for people who come by. Thanks, God, Mommas so happy and even the rats and roaches didnt come out tonight and the wind isnt blowing through the cracks.

Howd you know I wanted a wallet, God? I wonder if all the rich people who get mink coats and electric trains got that one little thing nobody knew they wanted. You know, God, Im kinda glad you were born in a manger. I wonder, God, if they had let Mary in the first place she stopped at, would you have remembered tonight? Oh, God, Im scared. I wish I could die right now with the feeling I have because I know Mommas going to make me mad and Im going to make her mad, and me and Presleys gonna fight...