Jacquline "Jackie" Pearson

Ophelia,

I just got a letter, and Valaida got sent to one of those camps.

I don't know how long she's been there... but I'm a little scared now. Paris was so free for so long- and now it's changing. Now, she wasn't here- but it could happen here. I get a feeling the camps are worse than getting lynched to death- maybe even worse than working for The Madisons. Mister Madison likes to act like slavery never ended, and everyone is too scared to say anything. My sister Ida got two children by him, and is too scared to leave.

That's not going to happen to me. I don't want to be shut away in a camp somewhere, or lying dead somewhere, or being a bedwarmer slave for some soldier who thinks its okay to treat me like a slave woman.

I'm Jacqueline Pearson. A singer. A dancer. A dreamer. I ain't about to give up all of that...

Oh, speaking of, I had another of those strange day dreams. They kept me out of trouble so far, and my instinct is keeping me out of trouble.

And my voice. God, don't let me lose what is keeping me alive... and don't let me lose Vito. Yeah, I know, another white boy.

(this is a on a seemingly blank piece of paper)

1. Do you have a pet? Did you have one as a child? What kind of pets?

I have a cat right now. We didn't have pets when I was younger... Mama said all they do is take food from our mouths. I picked up Olivia traveling, and I wouldn't let her go for nothing.

2. What is your job - and how do you feel about it? What job would you rather be doing?

I'm a singer. I love it. I love the attention, and the gifts. I'd like to just sing in some comfortable clothes, but every jobs got a downside, right?

3. What do you do to relax?

Put on some music, and drink a glass of wine. I got a few books around that I like to read too.

4. How old were you when you left home? What were the circumstances?

I was 15. June-Bug was my beau at the time... We were going to run off to New York so I could sing, and he could play piano. We was going to run off in about a week, and he said something to a white girl... and he got lynched to death that night. I stuck around, and tried to sing, but my Mama and Pa were against it. I ran off, and started my career without them. It's hard sometimes, but it's my life.


5. What was the last letter you sent? Who was it to?

To my sister, Nettie. I asked her how things were at home, an told her a lie about how wonderful things are here with the Germans and all.

I also told her how the man from Portugal doesn't want nothing to do with me anymore. That's just because of his wife, though.

My name is Jacqueline Pearson, born on May 23, 1919 to Morris and Selma Pearson of Attapulgis, Georgia.

Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to be a big glamorous singer. My Pa be going to down by the other side of the river, drinking, and listening to women sing, and kissing up Maybellene. I watched the singers, and I loved all the colors, and fancy hair styles and perfumes and makeup that they had. Everyone got quiet when they sang, and I loved it.

I told Ma I wanted to be a singer, and she laughed. Said my head was in the clouds, and nothing would come of me wanting to be a singer.

Proved her wrong when I started singing down by the other side of the river. Pa didn't say nothing at first, but then he told Ma. She was mad... but then they knew I was a good singer. Word started going around about me, and I started traveling around, singing. I was fine singing on the chitlin circut- I got pretty big, but I wanted bigger. Big fancy halls, and fancy cars all caught my eye. Now, don't get me wrong- I knew to leave the white folk alone... stuff happened if they noticed you too much. Elijah Little made this little white girl mad, and next thing we know, he was hanging from a tree. Stuff like that happened all the time.

I think I was lucky. Long as I could remember, I knew what was gonna happen. When I was seven, I told my family to get in the storm shelter. They listened, and a twister came on through and swept most everything away. I knew who to stay away from, and who to trust. It ain't much, but it's kept me alive.

I still wanted bigger, but they wouldn't even let me do the littler things. They told me I couldn't sing in a little old nightclub. I kept trying, though. This big black african was sweet on me, and told me about Paris. Said I could make a lot of money singing there. I packed up, and got on a ship with him.

Paris was different. I got all the glamour that I wanted, and people came to see me sing! They love me in Paris, and I had plenty of beaus since the african. They don't care here. I liked it just fine until recently.

Jewish folk have to wear a gold star. I don't, but that's because you'd have to be blind to miss that I'm black. If I just act like a dumb singer, they don't seem to mind.