Several days Professor Brown announced some changes in the class program.
“I’ve never been a great fan of group assignments but sometimes they’re valuable and so I’m assigning partners and giving each two person group an issue to research and address. This will involve some research, most on site, that is on the campus, but if people want to do off site, that is off campus research, that’s their choice. You’re not gong to be writing books or huge projects, but just some real world research to make more meaningful your black studies experience.
So as not to interfere with personal time, I’ll give class credit for time spent on the outside in lieu of coming to class. I know some of you work and that sort of thing. So you can miss class to do your special stuff.
Let’s talk about Black Studies. Until now it’s mostly been history, the history of the black experience, the black challenge, the black endeavor to overcome racism. These are important themes of course, but they’re a little repetitive. It’s numbs the mind to go o ver and over stuff. I want to aclimate people to the current world and the future world s much as to teach the history of the old world.
That’s the point of this new field assignment. I’ve assigned students into groups of two. If anyone has any strong objections to their partner, then I’m open to hearing from you, but otherwise just work with the person you’re assigned to. I’ll pass out the list of partners and you can give it the look over. If you have any problems with your partner, tell me at the end of class.
“The end of class,” someone intoned. “That’s not much time.”
“Tomorrow that?”
“That’s better.”
After the sheets were passed down the rows everyone was reviewing the list and basically no one had any problems. There was only one white girl and she was paired up with Bob. Professor Brown noticed they were sitting next to each other, Bob and the girl. Each looked furtively at the other, but neither spoke up. From their previous conversation he knew Bob was Ok with her but what would she say about it? As it was, she said nothing.
So far so good.
Bob tried to conceal his excitement. Of course he’d have to play it straight. But at least this way he’d get close to her, get her phone number and have an excuse to be with her outside of the class room. Her name was Marianne Whiteman. Of course Bob knew it and of course she knew he knew it, but after class as they were packing up and leaving she spoke to him.
“You’re Bob, I guess?”
“Yeah. That’s me,” he answered, restraining his excitement. “Well I’m Marianne. It looks like we’re partners in this assignment, although I’m not really sure what it is.”
“Yeah, “ he said. “The prof was a little vague about that. Glad to meet you.”
“Well you too. Nice to meet you too. Do you have any idea where we’re going with this?”
“Not a clue. No idea. Other than what he said, like, it’s research, research related to black culture. Pretty broad.”
“I wanted to make a suggestion.”
“Of course.”
“I thought we might chose the black church as a subject. I was raised in the church. My ****** was devoutly Christian and I think I’d relate to the church very well. Of course our church was all white and the black church is well….all black. But I’m OK with that and I’d love to get to see the black church first hand and with you, a black young man, I would feel very secure and comfortable in going into a new environment. How are you with that?”
“Well I’m not much of a church going type, actually,” he said, trying to conceal his disappointment. What the fuck? His prof sets him up with a great white chick and she wants to go to church? What the fuck?
“What would you like then?”
Of course what he really wanted was for her to suck his dick out on the common, right in front of everyone like that black ball player did, but that’s a bit much of course. He couldn’t just come out and say it.
“I don’t know. I’ve always been interested in interracial themes, interracial issues. Since we’re and intrracial research team, maybe we could go at something alone those lines.”
“I like the idea of that,” she smiled. “Maybe we could do an interracial study of the black church or something.”
What the fuck! The black church thing again.
“I have another idea Bob,” she persisted. “I go to the black church with you, and you go to a white church with me? How about that? I’ve heard that churches are the most segregated places in the country. Neither race wants to cross the racial line on Sunday. I know our white church never had any black folks..”
“When do you want to start this?”
She brightened up, obviously pleased she’d brought him over her way.
“No time like this Sunday. Do you have a black church in mind?”
“No. Like I said. I’m not really into church.”
“Suppose I ask Professor Brown for a black church we could go to?”
Oh fuck, he groaned inwardly, but outwardly he smiled broadly and said, “What a great idea.”
Of course it was a terrible idea, but what else could he say.
“Let’s go now and catch him in his office. His office hours are this hour, right after class. Come on.”
She smiled, obviously pleased with herself.
Professor Brown was obviously taken by surprise when they both walked in his office but obviously pleased that his young friend was making progress with the white co ed.
“Sure I can name some churches. Very friendly folks. They make everyone feel welcome.” He typed a few lines into his computer, hit the print button and out came a list of four different black churches.
“You two going this Sunday?”
Marianne smiled. “I’m working on him. I could go alone, but it’s not the same. I would just feel better about going to a new place with a black escort. After ward we can discuss it and write a report. I was raised in the church, the white church of course, and I’m anxious to experience the black religious experience.”
“That’s very impressive, “ the professor intoned. “It really is. I like your attitude. I like it when young black and white people come together and what could be better than going to church?”
Marianne couldn’t see Bob rolling his eyes because he was standing behind her, but Professor Brown saw it and smiled inwardly. He regretted telling Bob about that black ball player and the white girl out on the college park area. Of course it would give rise to unrealistic expectations. Why hadn’t he seen that?
“Thank you so much Professor” she gushed gratefully.
“Why don’t we go over the the canteen and get a cup of coffee and go over the list.”
An hour later they selected a medium sized black church some 45 years old that was somewhat off the beaten path. The reverend was known for his “conservatism,” whatever that meant.
“Can I ask a favor,” Marianne asked.
“Sure.”
“Could you wear a sport coat and a tie? You know. Get dressed up? I like guys in suits and sport coats and ties. Very traditional I suppose.”
“Very white,” he complained.
“Not at all. Nothing white about dressing professionally. Professor Brown always wears a shirt and tie.”
How like a woman to cheat. How like a woman to pull something like that. How like a white woman to use the example of a black brother to shame another black brother into dressing white.
“Yeah sure.”
The following Sunday they attended the morning service at the First African Baptist church and stunned everyone by their appearance as a young mixed race couple. She wore a dress, heels and stockings and excited him by taking his arm, walking next to him and sitting next to him….really close next to him,… in the pew among all the other attendees.
They were welcomed as visitors even though they were the objects of lots of stares and surprised looks. The sermon was pretty generic, not so different from her white church. Truth be told, she didn’t like sermons much, found them tedious and hypocritical and didn’t find the black church very different from the white church. Even so, it was an easy way to get academic credit and a comfortable way to get to know her black class mate, who barely concealed his discomfort with the whole thing.
If he’d know he’d be blackmailed into going to church, any church, he’d probably have declined the assignment and picked another partner.
“So what did you learn about the black church?” Professor Brown asked the following day.
“I learned the people weren’t very different from white church goers.”
“Did you think they would be/?”
“I didn’t know what to think. Was expecting Black Liberation Theology or something like that.”
“So you’re disappointed?”
"No. Relieved actually.”
“Would you go back?”
“I don’t know.”
“What next?”
“White church this weekend?”
“Which one?”
“A church in Palos Verdes called the Wayfarers Chapel”
“Ever been there before?”
“No. First time for me too.”
“Cool. First times are always good. Never a second time or a third time with out a first time.”
“How’s it going Bob,” Professor Brown spoke to him, with a twinkle in his eye.
“Great Professor. Great.” Of course he was lying. He wanted sex not scripture.
“Can I see you in your office later?”
“Sure Bob. Sure.”
“Can I come too?” Marianne wanted to know.
“No. It’s kind of a personal thing. Not related to our project,” Bob demurred.
“Sure Bob. See you later.”
Later in Professor Brown’s office Bob expressed his disappointment.
“You have to be patient. You just do. Did you think she was going to go down on you just like that?”
“I had some hopes.”
“Learn patience.”
“What happened to all that stuff about white girls naturally being drawn to black dudes and wanting to be seen with us in public.”
"You have to be patient.”
“Patient? What about the ‘White Pussy Christmas’ stuff?”
“What about it?”
"I appreciate your pairing me off with this white chick, but she wants to go to church. To church for God’s sake. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but it doesn’t look like there’s any white pussy in this for me, at least no any time soon.”
Professor Brown shook his head. “I can only do so much. You just have to be patient and not so impulsive. I think she likes you. You have to understand she’s been raised in the white world and in a white church. An all white church. Now she’s branching out into the world and she’s going to black churches with a black guy. You must have enjoyed that, being with her in a black church.”
Bob smiled.
“Truth be told Prof….I did enjoy it. The black girls were looking daggers and their mothers weren’t too happy either, seeing me with a white girl. But the brothers...the young ones...they were giving me the thumbs up. Yes. I did like it. Yes it was cool to take this white girl to church with me.”
Professor Brown’s smile warmed him.
“Gaining ground borrher. Gaining ground.”
The service at the white church that Sunday was what he thought it would be. Lots of uppity whites pretending not to see one of their women with a brother. White guys were taken aback, but several white girls were obviously interested, intrigued by the surprise appearance of a tall, well dressed brother in their all white sanctuary.
The sermon was pure generic Christian platitudes and slogans. Just like he thought it would be.
“So what did you think?” she asked them as they drove away from the church.
“What are we supposed to be getting out of this?” he wondered. Out loud. “Honest to God. I mean white folks and black folks don’t really like each other and separate from each other on Sundays and most of the other time as well. And here we are, dressed up and going through the motions of pretending….”
“Pretending what?”
“I don’t know. It just seems like…”
“Like what?”
“We’re pretty far from each other. Why did you even sign up for black studies anyway?”
“To learn about black guys. Well black people actually.”
“Really? That’s it?”
“I’ve never even sat next to a black person until that class and of course some other classes. Never even spoke to a black person, let alone a black guy. I wanted to get to know black people. You know. Like going to that church.”
“And what have you learned?”
"I’ve learned that I have a lot more to learn. I have come to appreciate how different black boys are.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well I’ve always heard how much confidence they have.”
“And?”
“You seem a little threatened by going to church. Even black church. You seem uncomfortable there.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to spoil it for you.”
"You didn’t spoil if for me. Not at all. Maybe I screwed up in insisting on church. It’s obviously not your thing. It’s not really what any guy goes for.”
“Again, sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. You got dressed up and went, even though you didn’t wan to. I know going to church was the last thing any boy would want, black or white. But you did it. I respect that. I respect you a whole lot more than if you’d just chickened out like others would have done.
“It worked out because I got to know you. I got to know you’re a gentleman who behaves with courtesy and politeness even when he’d rather be somewhere else. You hung in there and did it anyway.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Really. Want to know the truth?”
“Sure. What do you mean?”
“Well I’m not that big on church either. Spent my whole life there. With white people, white boys. Now I’m away from home and in college. Would like to try some new things.”
“Then why church? Why any church?”
“It was an easy way to make us get to know each other. You were good enough, gracious enough to do what I wanted to do. Now maybe I owe y u something. Maybe you should get to call the shots on the next thing we do.”
“It won’t be going to church.”
“I was counting on you that it wouldn’t. I’m ready to get beyond church.”
“Beyond church?”
“Yeah. I think I’m ready. Are you ready too?”
He smiled, feeling more confident that she was being more open, more honest.
“How about a swim?”
“A swim? Like where. I don’t have a bathing suit. ”
“A friend’s house up here on the hill. I house sit. It has a heated pool. Totally private. They’re gone for the winder. Gone to Colorado or something. I have the key and it’s ours if you’re up to it.”
“I still don’t have a bathing suit.”
“Hello? Did you hear me? I said it was private. Totally private. Or maybe you’re too bashful to swim nude.”
“How about you?”
“How about me what?”
“You have a suit?”
“How would that be fair for me to wear a suit while you’re totally nude?”
“Oh. I think I see now.”
“Ah ha.”
“So where is this friend’s house?”
Turn left at the next light. It’s about ten minutes. It’s up on the hill with an ocean view. I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will.”
As he drove the short distance to his white companion’s house he felt the blood drain into his now fully erect penis.
Maybe it was going to be a White Pussy Christmas after all.
