The Other Madisons

Late one night, Massa found me alone in a cabin. He didn’t stay long but in that short time, he tainted the woman I was meant to be. After he left, I bore so much anger I couldn’t believe it was me feeling that way—angry to my soul.

Somehow, as time went on, I reached deep inside myself and pulled up the lessons my mother and father and the elders had taught me. I knew that, no matter what, I could bring honor to my family and our ancestors. I figured out how to use my anger. I still grieved for my old life, sometimes wished I was dead. But I couldn’t let anybody destroy me. Not anybody. I made a new life for myself.

But when young Massa hurt my baby Coreen—oh God!

I cried when she looked at her image on the surface of a pond and then reached in with violent slaps to fracture her reflection. When she started throwing rocks at the defiled woman she saw, I fell to my knees. I knew what she was feeling. I knew Coreen was exploding with helplessness and hate. From the day she was born, there was never a thing I could do to protect her, but after that man damaged her, I took her into my arms and rocked her and talked to her, just as I did when she was the sad little girl who hung on to my legs. “Anger can tear you up,” I said this time, “but never forget—never—if you’re fighting mad, feeling that way can give you strength and keep you going.”