Kindred

by Octavia E. Butler

Repressive societies always seemed to understand the danger of “wrong” ideas.

“I won’t bargain away my husband or my freedom!” “You don’t have either to bargain.”

She had done the safe thing—had accepted a life of slavery because she was afraid.

I had to pay near twice what she’s worth to get her. That’s all the money I had, and Daddy won’t pay for a doctor to fix niggers.

“You ain’t no field nigger, but you still a nigger.

“Sometimes Marse Rufe says what will make you feel good—not what’s true.”

She said marrying a slave is almost bad as being a slave.”

“Sometimes it’s better to keep the truth to yourself.”

“Better to stay alive,” I said. “At least while there’s a chance to get free.”

“Doctor-nigger,” she said with contempt. “Think you know so much. Reading-nigger. White-nigger! Why didn’t you know enough to let me die?”

White people thought I was industrious. Most blacks thought I was either stupid or too intent on pleasing the whites. I thought I was keeping my fears and doubts at bay as best I could, and managing to stay relatively sane.

“I’ve been too easy on you,” he said. His voice was suddenly low and ugly. “I treated you like you were better than the ordinary niggers. I see I made a mistake!”

“You think you’re white!” he muttered. “You don’t know your place any better than a wild animal.”

moments later for no reason that I could see, she attacked me, “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, whining and crying after some poor white trash of a man, black as you are. You always try to act so white. White nigger, turning against your own people!”

Tom wasn’t so stingy, you’d have had a dress a long time ago. Man loves a dollar more than he loves Jesus.”

“Do your job! Go tell him! That’s what you for—to help white folks keep niggers down.

“One white man, two white men, what difference do it make?” “One black man, two black men, what difference does that make?” “I could have ten black men without turning against my own.”

I wasn’t really afraid. Dogs with white men frightened me, or dogs in packs—Sarah

“Educated nigger don’t mean smart nigger,

You got more pride than sense.”

My side hurt, my mouth hurt, my face was still bleeding, but none of that was as bad as the whip.

I wasn’t going to die—though as the beating went on, I wanted to. Anything to stop the pain! But there was nothing.

That educated didn’t mean smart. He had a point. Nothing in my education or knowledge of the future had helped me to escape. Yet in a few years an illiterate runaway named Harriet Tubman would make nineteen trips into this country and lead three hundred fugitives to freedom. What had I done wrong? Why was I still slave to a man who had repaid me for saving his life by nearly killing me.

I longed for my sleeping pills to give me oblivion, but some small part of me was glad I didn’t have them. I didn’t quite trust myself with them just now. I wasn’t quite sure how many of them I might take.

I had never had a serious enemy—someone who would go out of her way to get me hurt or killed.

To slaveholders and patrollers, I was just one more nigger, worth so many dollars. What they did to me didn’t have much to do with me personally. But here was a woman who hated me and who, out of sheer malice, had nearly killed me.

“He couldn’t let a runaway go without some punishment. If he did, there’d be ten more taking off tomorrow.

“Daddy’s the only man I know,” he said softly, “who cares as much about giving his word to a black as to a white.” “Does that bother you?” “No! It’s one of the few things about him I can respect.”

He had no right to give me orders, and he knew it. His authority was over the field hands. But today, Rufus and Tom Weylin had gone into town leaving Edwards in charge, leaving him several hours to show us how “important” he was.

Slavery was a long slow process of dulling.

“Get your things,” he told me. I almost told him to forget about my things. Extra clothing, medicine, tooth brush, pens, paper, whatever. But here, some of those things were irreplaceable.

New lines and all, he was so damned beautiful. “It’s been five years for me,” he said. “I know,” I whispered.

Rufus turned slightly and trained his rifle on us. I knew a little about firearms now. It wasn’t wise for any but the most trusted slaves to show an interest in them, but then I had been trusted before I ran away. Rufus’s gun was a flintlock, a long slender Kentucky rifle. He had even let me fire it a couple of times … before. And I had looked down the barrel of one like it for his sake. This one, however, was aimed more at Kevin. I stared at it, then at the young man holding it. I kept thinking I knew him, and he kept proving to me that I didn’t.

“My keep! I’ve worked, worked hard every day I’ve been here until your father beat me so badly I couldn’t work! You people owe me! And you, Goddamnit, owe me more than you could ever pay!”

“I already know all I ever want to find out about being a slave,” I told him. “I’d rather be shot than go back in there.”

“You’re not leaving!” he shouted. He sort of crouched around the gun, clearly on the verge of firing. “Damn you, you’re not leaving me!”

Is Rufus Weylin in love with Dana?

I couldn’t have been unconscious for more than a minute. I came to on the living room floor to find Kevin bending over me. There was no one for me to mistake him for this time. It was him, and he was home. We were home.

“Please come with me.” He did. He was so careful, so fearful of hurting me. He did hurt me, of course. I had known he would, but it didn’t matter. We were safe.

The time, the year, was right, but the house just wasn’t familiar enough. I felt as though I were losing my place here in my own time.

what must Kevin be feeling after five years. His white skin had saved him from much of the trouble I had faced, but still, he couldn’t have had an easy time.

you can’t come back all at once any more than you can leave all at once. It takes time. After a while, though, things will fall into place.”

“Who in hell ever said you were an educated nigger? You can’t even tell a decent lie.

He could get help from his neighbors, from the patrollers, probably even from whatever police officials the area had. He could do anything he wanted to to me, and I had no enforceable rights. None at all.

“You go away for six years,” he said, “then come back and fit right in. It’s like you never left.” “Every time I go I keep hoping I’ll never come back.” He nodded. “But at least you get some time of freedom.”

“Why do you keep trying to kill yourself?” I said softly. I hadn’t expected an answer so I was surprised when he spoke quietly. “Most of the time, living just isn’t worth the trouble.”

Weylin’s mouth was set in a straight hard line. “If he dies, you die, and you won’t die easy.” “You already said that. But no matter what you do to me, your son will still be dead. Is that what you want?”

I would have sworn there couldn’t even be anybody like you. You’re not natural! But you can feel pain—and you can die. Remember that and do your job. Take care of your master.”

“He’s as close to being scared of you as he’s ever been of anything,” said Nigel. “I think he’d rather try to kill you than admit it though.”

Tom Weylin's thoughts and feelings about Dana.

I didn’t even know why I was trying to save Weylin. He wasn’t worth it.

“It’s good to have children,” he said softly. “Good to have sons. But it’s so hard to see them be slaves.”