They came together, propositioned, bargained, and slowly worked out the consummation of their respective desires.
Naylor’s construction of Brewster Place’s beginnings seems like a plaintive evocation of a story that already lives in the crevices of a bygone past. Or the tale of someone who has lived their years and finally taken respite to talk of their unholy beginning that was marked for a cramped existence in this world. They gradually established their space and mellowed into an old age. Gratitude is expressed for the years they lived, the endless hours they worked, the shelter and protection they bestowed on others. They will be thought of, remembered, perhaps with great affection but their very existence wouldn’t be a pleasant reflection on those bound with them. Brewster Place is a street where life blooms and endures, but also suffers from asphyxiation and demands escape from its griminess, odor, discoloration, confinement, and the intermittent violence and pain. For some, it was meant to be a part of a journey, but ends up being the destination. For some, it’s a connecting tunnel to something, where there is hope at the end; for freshness and happiness, for something better and beautiful.
The sigh turned into knot of pity for the ones that she knew would die. She pitied them because she refused to pity herself and to think that she, too, would have to die here on this crowded street because there just wasn’t enough left for her to do it all again.
For Mattie Michael, Brewster Place was an impermanent shelter which turned into a permanent one. Mattie never actively looks for an escape towards something else. Because there wasn’t enough left for her to do it all again, she seems to be fiercely guarding whatever was left of others; Etta, Ciel, her son Basil. Perhaps because her own splintered life is not mendable, she is very quick to discern any fissures that might erupt in the lives of those around her. Mattie’s attitudes and responses are almost prophetic. She can intuitively sense a calamity. Etta Mae Johnson is looking for an escape that would come in the form of marriage. But for a woman who has lived her life not caring for other’s opinion, this sudden desire for matrimony seems complex and paradoxical. Cora Lee envisions an escape too, but for her children. They couldn’t be left moldering, like her, amidst stale food and unwashed dishes. Babies grow up, babies need Shakespeare and poetry, they need fresh air and education, and a life that will grow out of the claustrophobic space of Brewster Place. For Kiswana Browne, Brewster Place is a refuge for her idealism. A dingy playground for the assessment of her revolutionary design. Her escape into the modest Brewster Place apartment, from Linden Hall and her middle class upbringing, seems to be rather synthetic. Linden Hall keeps permeating into Brewster Place in the form of ‘designer jeans’ and ’70 dollar cheques’, and a mother who doesn’t agree with the Kiswana’s representation of black identity. Black isn’t beautiful and it isn’t ugly-black is! It isn’t kinky hair and it’s not straight hair-it just is.
But they make me try to feel like a freak out there and you make me feel like one in here.’
In Brewster’s Place, individual desires are pitted against the group. Lorraine’s and Theresa’s existence in Brewster Place seems to have been reached after a past inundated by escapes, from society and its disapproval of homosexuality. ‘Lorraine, who just wants to be a human being-a lousy human being who is somebody’s daughter or somebody’s friend or even somebody’s enemy..’ The rasping conflict between the two women regarding their attitudes towards the group speaks of a deep underlying contradiction. Lorraine wants to be accepted, she wants to fit in, she wants an identity which is somehow also configured by society and its perceptions - something it doesn’t consider unwholesome. Theresa resents this neediness, ferociously proclaims her difference, and wants to draw the line and secure an individual space unfiltered by the judgment of the group. There is rebuttal of society but at the same time an anger that arises from the lack of acceptance. Theresa’s strong avowal of her difference and Etta’s drive towards matrimony, perhaps, speaks of a subliminal need for acceptance.
What is most fascinating about Naylor’s book is how beautifully the individual stories are merged with a collective consciousness. They are extraordinary and unusual; the women of Brewster Place. They have all survived damage and loss, and reparation has come in the form of a sisterhood, where they watch and understand, and share their perspectives on their own and each other’s life. None of them have been happy in the traditional gender roles; they have all in some way been victims of patriarchy and abuse. The peace and empathy that has arrived and stayed with the intermingling of the tales of the past and the struggle of the present provides beautiful sense of stillness and comfort. And it is Brewster Place that remembers this narrative of individual alienation and communal intimacy, imparts it the dignity it deserves, the refuge it needs, as the lives and stories of its coloured daughters unfold.
They were hard-edged, soft-centered, brutally demanding, and easily pleased, these women of Brewster Place. They came, they went, grew up, and grew old beyond their years. Like an ebony phoenix, each in her own time and with her own season had a story.