Of Ntozake’s pieces we’ve read so far, this one was my favorite. In particular, I loved the words of the character “Lady in Blue.” The first of her monologues, on page 12 was incredibly powerful. The words Ntozake chose, “puddle,” “waters,” “circlin,” “bleed,” all have a certain momentum to them that implies fluidity and movement. However, she also describes an encounter with someone who is verbally assaulting her on the street. This sort of interaction, one that is all too familiar for any woman that has walked the streets of New York at dark, is a powerful reminder of the constant pressure to submit. A daily call to behave a certain way and allow one’s self to become subject to another’s orders.
The idea of being trapped in the “six blocks of cruelty” that for this character is home was physically immobilizing. The “tunnel closing,” the closed doors, the sun not shining, all of these words that restrict space make readers feel as though they too are trapped within the mind of this character. The use of physically fluid language in the first monologue compared to the language in the second one are polar opposites. Ntozake goes from describing “a tunnel with a train” to a “tunnel closing,” a situation that includes mobility and one that does not. These two speeches by this character in proximity to each other produce an extra emphasis on the feelings of entrapment she describes.
Towards the end of one of the last monologues by the Lady In Blue, Ntozake writes about the concept of sorry. “I’m not even sorry/ bout you bein sorry you can carry all the guilt & grime ya wanna/ just don’t give it to me/ I can’t use another sorry.” This line was my favorite from this book. The burden on women to accept an apology for something that someone else did is not only indicative of the gendered climate we live in today, but also demonstrative of the unpaid mental labor that women are asked to do everyday. To accept an apology, to move on, to stop letting one event affect you for the rest of your life, to do the work to make someone else feel better about themselves. With all the media coverage around sexual assault and a growing acceptance for vocalizing past experiences, this idea of “sorry” is prevalent. Along with the burden of reliving the trauma of sexual assault is the burden of accepting the “sorry” of someone else. Sorry is a word that does nothing for the survivor but only serves to alleviate the guilt of the aggressor.