Tale of Niggers:

 Pasha Donovinski.

Marvin Jonson.

Marvin: Hey, man. Why don’t y’all come in here for a moment. Yeah, you. I’m addressing you. Sit down. Have a Coke or Sprite or some thing. I just want some one to talk to. Is that cool?

Pasha: [Pause.] Yes. It’s cool.

Marvin: So I don’t know if you’ve noticed this. I am black. Yeah, yeah: we’re supposed to overlook these things. But let’s be real here. Well I needed some one to talk to. You see: I’ve been black all my life. And now it’s finally starting to hit me. And I’m having trouble making sense of it.

Marvin: You see: when I was a kid, I loved to watch cartoons. Matter of fact that’s all I did. And half of the cartoon characters on the screen were black. And half of THEM was superheroes. So y’all can imagine my first day at school. I come there thinking half the students will be black, like me. And half of they will be superheroes.

Pasha: [Brief smirk.]

Marvin: Now here’s the thing. I show up. And imagine this. Only one nigga in the class. You guess who that is. All the other kids is pale as rosewood. I was PUZZLED.

Then one day a fight breaks out between me and this blonde dude. Must have been over a crayon or something. And you know how Fresh Prince says – I don’t know if you watched Prince – my moms got scared. So we moved to a different neighbourhood. And here, the tables turned. There was one WHITE kid in my class. His name was Eugene or some thing. He was Russian. You know any Russians?

Pasha: A few.

Marvin: QUITE a few?

Pasha: a quite few. Yes.

Marvin: Well. ANY ways. Most of the school was black. Now after three years being the only black kid, this was a surprise twist. And fights broke out all the time. But I just kept a low profile. And never got into one even ONCE.

[Pause.] Drink your Coke.

[Pasha sycophantically opens his pop and sips. Marvin sips his Grape Soda.]

Marvin: Then time came when I was college age. And my grades were LOW. I knew Eugene’s G.P.A. It was 4.2. MINE wasn’t near that. Plus I had a friend from the old school. We stayed in touch by phone. His was 3.8. Not bad. Fact is that neither of these crackers got into the school that *I* ended up going to. We all applied. And I all ways found that a bit suspicious.

Then I got into show business. Same thing, different setting. Sure: I went to Acting School. But I was never GREAT. Now I am here. And it’s just like being a kid again. Half of the people here are black. Like me. And you tell me that they ain’t superheroes.

[Pasha laughs. Jocularly, Marvin says:] Am I RIGHT?

[Pasha knods, holding his can sentimentally. Marvin sips his, kicking back.]

Marvin: Yes. But then. It all just happened recently. I’ve been having these, you know what they called: RECURRING dreams. And in these dreams I be this action hero. In the DAY time I be fighting bad guys, like that blonde fuck back at Timber Elementary School. But then come NIGHT: here is the funny thing. I am an ACTION figure. And they stuff me on a shelf. And put me in a box besides all of the other black heroes. Across from all the whites.

[A tone of grimness sets into the scene.]

And last week I REALLY got to thinking. How is it that a good third of the people here in Hollywood are black? I mean I know that on T.V. it was like half. But then when I first went to SCHOOL, I was the only black kid. Then when I went to the NEXT school, we were a majority. You know: “we”. [Pause ambiguously.] So at FIRST I figured that in Hollywood it just all evens out. You’re neither too few or too many. Matter of fact that’s what I must have dreamt it being when I been a kid. But let’s be real: that ain’t reality. We have to grow up.

I did some research, for the first time in my life. It turns out only twelve per CENT of our national population is black. That’s three out of every twenty-five! So THEORETICALLY, STATISTICALLY, according to the LAWS OF PROBABILITY, the laws of NATURE, I should be the only black man on this set! But I AIN’T!

[Pause.]

And then I figured out an other thing. You see I all ways wondered: if my people had it so damned bad in the nineteenth century, why does every body hate us? And I USED to think that all those people, they be Nazis and like closet K.K.K. and shit. But then it DAWNED on me. Only last Monday. No one told me. I just, you know, it popped in my head. I realize that: Marvin never did shit but just watch cartoons and mind his business. Eugene was a chess champion. My boy Phoenix back at Timber E.S. was Debate Coach. Why, the only reason HE was not a 4.plus student was HE was all ways ARGUING with all his teachers!

[Pasha smiles, despite himself.]

So how did *I* get *here*? Well it’s the SYSTEM. The same “system” that I grew up hatin’. THAT’S what got me here. Because we live here in America. And in America, we have democracy. Which means majority rules. So if you be a minority, then that means that you’re at a DISADVANTAGE. It means that YOU be in SERIOUS DANGER.

[Pasha gulps discretely, but Marvin notices.]

So they way they set it up is: College has no more minorities. Hollywood has no more minorities. You can live like a kid your whole life, watching T.V., and when you come to my age it’s like you never left the set. You never were the only black kid in the class. You never were one of the MANY black kids in the class. You’re just Marvin. And so no one’s against you. You will never be out-voted; all your other niggas will just back you up. And no one will even MENTION that you’re black.

But man I gotta tell you: I see through it. Because people HATE you if you get here and you didn’t really work for it. You can tell. I have felt it all my life. Every one on this set. INCLUDING all the black people. Because I know they feel something like what I feel right now: GUILT. *I* never worked for this. Not as hard as every body ELSE did any ways. *I* am just here to fill a quota. Y’all know. Like the police with traffic tickets.

[Pasha awkwardly knods, with an exasperated sigh of affirmation.]

[Marvin grinning:] RIGHT? [Pasha breathes: OH yeah.]

[Marvin downs his drink and crumples the can, finishing:]

I grew up thinking we live in a country where you GET YOUR DUE. Where shit like skin colour and all that, that don’t matter. But APPARENTLY this SOCIAL JUSTICE STATE, with its AFFIRMATIVE ACTION POLICIES thinks not. They be, you know, TAKING CARE OF MARVIN. Like I still be five years old. They make SURE I’m never again the one BLACK kid in the park. Because otherwise I might get DISCRIMINATED. And you know what? FUCK this Fascist State. FUCK this “Affirmative Action”. All my life I grown up with this Black PRIVILEGE over my nappy head. And now I gotta axe you something: is there NOTHING that MARVIN JONSON can just do ON HIS OWN? Just by the grace of GOD and his own WILL? Is there NOTHING that I can do to PROVE my self? Y’all feel me?? Do you know what I am talking about?

Pasha: Yes.

Marvin: Now. Do you REALLY?

Pasha: I do.

Marvin: Then enlighten me.

Pasha: [Pauses, close up.] I was born in Moldova. That’s a tiny country just upon the other side of the Ukraine, the other side of which is Russia. It’s a Jewish country. But most of Europe isn’t Jewish. Plenty of places hate Jews. They still believe my people run the world. Like I was born with some sort of vague gift that I can never use. A blank check that I can never cash. [Marvin stares.] It is believed that six million of my people died at the hands of the German Nazis. Six Million people. I have never seen so many people in my life. At least I would not reckon it. It is illegal there in fourteen countries to question the figure or the cause. And in America people believe it too. They do not underestimate [Marvin mouths “they”] the power of technology. But I did. I lived in Moldova. We would clean our carpets then with Tennis rackets.

[Cut to scene of tennis racket smacking the carpet. Voice over childhood memories:]

When I would hear my neighbour beating it I thought it was the sound of firearms or cannons in the distance.

[Flash-back progresses to the present age.]

When I came here, I was labeled a “white man”. There they hated me for being Jewish and running the world. Here they hate me by the same token, but for having pale skin.

[“Sorry.” Grim looks and aggression on the bus.]

I don’t fit in with the other white men. I could try, but I would fail. I do not listen to Ted Nugent, drink dark beer, or go to clubs for Group Dancing. I could try. But I know what will happen. They will ask where I was born. And when I’d say Moldova they would wear a strange expression and then lose all interest in me. It happens when no one can find your home-town on a map.

[Pasha discovers that he’s standing up now, pacing the room.]

Marvin: Well, shit. [laughing wryly.] What’s your name?

Pasha: Pasha.

Marvin: PASHA. I like that. You know. You just woke me up. I was beginning to dose off.

Pasha: I’m sorry.

Marvin: No. Not from your story. Just this life. I’m weary of the world, you know. Thing is: I was beginning, up until this day, to question this democracy. I figure: I’m screwed either way. Either I’m a minority that gets out-voted, hanged and all, or I’m a privileged black male living a common lie. But now YOU’VE opened my eyes, Pasha. I used to think I could not trust a room of white people if I’m the only black man in the same room. But now I’ve had a change of heart. I can trust twenty-two of you, for every three of me. I know YOU’LL have my back, nigga.

Pasha: What did you call me?

Marvin: Nigga. I called you NIGGA, nigga.

[Pasha falls into his chair, as though relieved despite himself.]

Feels good, don’t it?

Pasha: OH, yeah.

[A blast from nearby rouses them. They look up startled. Marvin mumbles grimly:]

Not THEM again.

Dm.A.A.