Status Updates From If Beale Street Could Talk

I suppose that the root of the resentment–a resentment which hides a bottomless terror–has to do with the fact that a woman is tremendously controlled by what the man’s imagination makes of her–literally, hour by hour, day by day; so she becomes a woman. But a man exists in his own imagination, and can never be at the mercy of a woman’s.

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And it was absolutely astonishing to me to realize that I was a virgin. I really was. I suddenly wondered how. I wondered why. But it was because I had always, without ever thinking about it, known that I would spend my life with Fonny.

It’s astounding the first time you realize that a stranger has a body–the realization that he has a body makes him a stranger. It means that you have a body, too. You will live with this forever, and it will spell out the language of your life.

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