Jacquline "Jackie" Pearson (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} jackiepearson) wrote,@ 2008-03-04 19:33:00 |
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Jackie info
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.
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.