As I Stood At The Gate is a novel that takes
place in the Jim Crow South. This compelling story unfolds
throughout the course of one summer day in 1965. It is a story
of young love as two teenagers in the color-struck South struggles
to find the courage and strength to love beyond deep-seated
family traditions. The two teenaged characters in this novel,
Matilean, a dark-skinned girl, and Seth, a fair-skinned black
boy, struggles to preserve the nectar of young love and to
sweeten the bitter color lines that divide their families
and their community. The novel is filled with a vivid palette
of characters that evoke an array of emotions that range from
joy to sorrow, from fear to elation, and from love to hate.
END OF SUMMER, 1965
“BANG!” The screen door slammed in the front of
the house. Old Man Woodson and Seth scuffled onto the porch.
Quickly, Matilean released Lillian’s hair and they both
dropped to the ground on either side of the gate. The two girls
knelt in silence, their fingers laced over one another’s
as they clung to the gate.
Old Man Woodson ran his house like he was running a prison.
He stood 6 feet 4 inches tall, and carried 255 pounds of solid
muscle. From the stories Seth had told Matilean, she knew Old
Man Woodson had to be the meanest man alive. There was never
any evidence to prove otherwise. Old Man Woodson frowned continuously.
His eyes were cold and menacing, frequently moving from one
direction to another as he contemplated what punishment he would
inflict upon the next infractor.
Seth’s upper torso was limply extended over the banister,
supported only by his father’s firm grip around his neck.
Seth’s complexion boiled from a light red to a deep purple.
Obviously, Old Man Woodson wouldn’t let go. Instead, he
gripped tighter, cutting off more oxygen. Pounding down on his
father’s forearm, Seth tried to free himself from the
grasp, but to no avail. Old Man Woodson’s face tightened.
His lips pressed into his gums and his eyes squinted with vengeance.
Seth literally tried spitting out words.
“Pl…e...a...s…e. I…ccccccan’...t…Bre…”
“Ah know you can’t breathe! You can’t breathe
‘cause Ah’m chokin’ you, you damn fool!”
Old Man Woodson yelled.
Finally, he pulled Seth’s limp body back onto the porch.
Seth collapsed to his knees, fighting to catch his breath. “What?
You tryin’ to kill me?” he asked, gasping for as
much air as he could. Strings of saliva hung from his mouth
to the surface of the black porch.
“If dat’s whut it takes,” his face still cold.
“Boy, don’t you eva,” he stressed his words,
“come in my face wit some shit like that. You see any
dark women in this family?” He answered for Seth, “Naw,
and will neva be if Ah got anythin’ to say to the matta!”
Seth snorted up the remaining snot that hung from his upper
lip. He lifted himself to face his father. Their physiques were
identical. “What differ does it matter?” Seth questioned,
backing up after he asked. “Whut, boy?” screamed
Old Man Woodson.
Seth’s disobedient reply was enough to make Old Man Woodson’s
eyes cringe with anger. His big, wide hand came descending through
the air. With one blow, Seth’s body crashed into the banister.
The slap left a red imprint on his face. A second slap was in
motion. “NOOOO! Daddy,” Lillian cried. Her body
was crunched into the gate and her hands clenched Matilean’s.
For the first time, Old Man Woodson took notice of Lillian and
Matilean kneeling at the gate. Trickles of blood dripped from
Seth’s nose and landed in the puddle of saliva.
Matilean watched as the blood and the saliva mixed on the porch
floor. Without order or control, Matilean slipped into another
thought. How strange it seemed to her that something as black
as the porch and something as clear as saliva could still find
the color of blood. “How long you been there?” Old
Man Woodson yelled, as he walked to the edge of the porch. He
stood tall like a giant and more intimidating to Matilean than
Lillian could have ever been. “Did you heah me? How long
you been there?”
Lillian spoke up quickly, “We ain’t been here long,
Daddy.”
Old Man Woodson’s attention was directed solely to Matilean.
He waited for her to answer. Matilean came out of her thought
in time to hear Old Man Woodson say, “You heah whut I
said, gal?” “No, we ain’t heard nothin’,
Daddy,” Lillian answered.
“Lilly.” “Yes, Daddy.” “Am Ah
talkin’ to you?” She pondered a second. “Ummmm
no, Daddy.” “Then speak when spoken to. Betta yet,
come hea,” he demanded. As Lillian began to stand, Matilean
clutched her fingers tighter. All the hurtful words spoken earlier
were trivial now, as destruction seemed to lie in their path.
Matilean wanted to protect her and the innocence that was underneath
her cold and bitter facade.
Lillian reluctantly pulled her fingers away and walked very
slowly towards the steps and even more slowly up them.
“Get in the house!” he insisted by grabbing her
around the neck and spinning her towards the screen door. He
never took his eyes off Matilean the entire time.
Matilean heard exactly what he said, but she was scared to answer
him. If he choked his own kids, she could just imagine what
he wanted to do to her neck.
“Well, gal,” repeated Old Man Woodson. At that moment
Matilean noticed a robin singing in one of the pine trees. She
wondered why it sang, because at that moment there seemed to
be nothing exciting to sing about. Even a caged bird with its
door open wouldn’t sing at a time like this.
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