Grace After Midnight_ A Memoir - Felicia Pearson [3]
First time I learn about Smurfs is over a friend’s house. They’re on TV.
“Who they?” I ask.
“They the Smurfs.”
I fall in love with the Smurfs, so deep in love until Mama buys me Smurf sheets and Smurf pillowcases. I have Smurf pictures on the walls and Smurfs cartoons by my bed. I surround myself with Smurfs.
Man, I even have me some Smurf dreams.
In one dream I wake up and I’m not on Oliver Street no more. I’m in a mushroom house. That’s right. A house cut out of a big-ass mushroom. Far as I’m concerned, it’s a Smurf World. If you don’t like it, you can go Smurf yourself.
Got me four fingers like a Smurf. Got me a little white hat, puffy feet, and Smurfy eyes. I still got my braids. I’m Braidy Smurf.
Braidy Smurf is meeting Brainy Smurf. Here’s Hefty Smurf who’s got a tattoo on his arm and can kick plenty ass. Harmony Smurf is hanging with Handy Smurf.
I’m chilling with all the Smurfs. Even Smurfette. Especially Smurfette. She’s wearing a dress and high heels. She’s flirting with me just like she flirts with the boys. Invites me to her crib. I go in and get comfortable.
I’m sure-enough falling for Smurfette.
But if Smurfette is a girl, what does that make me?
In real life, I wasn’t relating to girls. I was relating to boys.
In school, the uniform was skirts. But I was bony and didn’t like showing my knees. I wanted to wear baggy jeans like the boys. Soon as I got home I got out of that skirt and put on jeans. Got out of that blouse and put on a boy’s shirt.
“Put on that cheerleader skirt,” Mama said.
“Don’t want to.”
“You need to, baby,” she insisted. “You’re going to make an adorable cheerleader. You’re pretty as a picture and you’re the best little athlete in that school. I want you to try out.”
Loved Mama and wanted to make her happy, so I tried out. Went to the audition where they made you dance like Janet Jackson.
Don’t get me wrong. I been in love with Janet my whole life. Loved her when she was Penny on Good Times with JJ and them. I watched those reruns till I had ’em memorized. When homegirl hit with “Control,” I loved her even more. I love her today.
When “Control” dropped, we were all caught up in the videos. “Nasty,” “What Have You Done for Me Lately”—those jams were poppin’ everywhere I went. But when I went to the cheerleader audition and saw that they wanted me to do Janet’s chair routine from “The Pleasure Principle” video, I said, “Thanks, but no thanks.” Janet can do that stuff, but not Fefe.
Fefe was what they were calling me when my eyes were still crossed.
“Fefe’s fucked up,” said one of the boys who saw how I liked to wear jeans and shoot hoops. “Fefe’s a straight-up bull dyke.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but I beat his little ass anyway.
“Fefe’s a tomboy,” said someone else.
I could deal with that word because it had “boy” in it.
The big change for Fefe came when Mama, bless her heart, paid for the operation to fix my eyes. By then I had taken her name, Pearson, and was officially Felicia Pearson. But it didn’t take long for Fefe to turn into Snoop. Happened when I was eight. I’ll get to that story in a minute.
KNIGHT RIDER
Mama went to a Holy Roller church where everyone was jumping for Jesus. I could feel it. You had to feel the spirit. The music was fresh, the Holy Ghost on the loose, and the people cool. Those big church ladies were out in the kitchen cooking up collard greens, neck bones, and pig’s feet. Jesus was all right with me.
Pop was one of those Jehovah’s Witnesses. I liked going to his prayer meetings ’cause there were all kinds of folk up in there—black, white, Latino—who thought my pigtails were cute. They were always dropping change in my purse.
But church went on for too long and got me restless. I was an outside kid. Inside bored me. Outside stimulated me. I loved the streets. Loved to sit on the stairs in front of Mama’s house and just watch the world go by. Early on, Mama let me wander. She really had no choice ’cause I’d be wandering anyway. Wander down to the corner store where they sold meats and candies. Wander over