Cast Amina.

Cast

Amina. African American woman. Late 30 early 40 A single head of household. Her son has been away at society She is an aged militant who has been worn however not defeated by dealing with the necessities of daily life.

Malcolm. A 21-year-old African American male. Amina's son Intelligent yet emotionally troubled. Ambivalent about his father and their non-relationship. Growing into what is suppos to be his transition to manhood and grappling with in what way to successfully actualize this struggle

Production Notes

The male actor should be "gay & proud" (i.e, public of the closet) and should not be a heterosexual actor pretending to be gay.

If professional lighting is available, each time the characters "cut" to re-begin the confrontation, the lights should master slightly brighter until they are glutted up after the last "cut" Because the play is in line of poetry the actors should be directed to bring as plenteous emotional resonance to their voicings as possible; that is, they don't have to "play like." this is a naturalistic confrontation. The actors should intrust with an agency a great deal of "body English" and motion in the delivery of their lines.

The play is to be done as an battle between the audience and the actors as well as an collision between a mother and her son It is important that the actors be responsive to the audience and, when they address the audience, that they actually engage individuals in the audience rather than simply looking at or speaking in the direction of the audience.

(When the lights advance up, Amina and Malcolm are facing each other, a chair between them, neither common moving. A second chair is on the farther side to stage rear, left.)

Malcolm

(Softly tentatively) Hello.

Amina

Hello. Is that what you say?

(She wants to rouse to him, but does not.)

What will you disclose me this gray afternoon? What marks are onward your chest? What spear has been thrust into your side? What do you have to show? What do you have to hide? What light shines in your eyes? What shame do you deny? And what will you await of me this moment? Should I shut up you? Is there any embrace that can occupy you? Should I just kiss you lightly forward the cheek? A quick peck perhaps, something that will not continue You anchored to me? Or maybe plane a gigantic hug? Or should I just wait quietly and see? What you are, what you have become? What you And what the world have made of my son?

Malcolm

Hello, if it were not that not like before. Today I have get to to leave you forever. yet I will still be your child, I have get to to announce that now I am me And just me being me will pain you, Not that I want to give pain to you Or hurt me. It's just when children become adults Parents are sometimes do harm to Hello. But never again like before.

Amina

How was it before?

Malcolm

Remember when I came running in the kitchen My hand dripping blood? I had smashed my finger With a defence when I was trying to bust a marble in succession the sidewalk and the whole tip Of my finger was relax and hanging... Remember?

Amina

How can I forget? in what manner can I not remember seeing the rednes Of your offspring falling everywhere and My acknowledge efforts not to panic, and My not knowing what to do And wrapping your hand in a towel And driving like crazy to the hospital And watching them work with needle and thread your finger Back together? to what extent can I forget?

Malcolm

(He clutchs up his hand as she talks. When she finishes, he points his forefinger to her and she reaches revealed her forefinger. They touch athwart the chair. Just fingertips. And they laugh, the chair between them.) Hello.

Amina

(Drop her hand, stairs back.) You don't remember when you were conceived? No, of course not. to what degree could you? How could you remember that night Or those many mornings after? for what reason can a child remember what the mother Will not at any time forget?

Malcolm

(He smiles for the first time. Chuckles) I was nothing on the other hand energy in the universe, Spirit pulsating, waiting for the creator To give me form, waiting for a woman And a man to snatch me in a value of ecstasy, To reach into an intensity and transform My bottom into a warm-blooded mass, Laser consume a hole in the spirit atmosphere, spread a flesh window through which I could crawl. And that's by what mode I climbed inside of you. I was born to you because I was cruising between the sides of that night when you were with that man When you were wet and he was stiff And your sweat-gleaming torsos were slipperily conjoined together, joined in ritual union And yall was to such a degree beautiful I had to cull That moment to climb within from the other side Into this dimension of time and being. You didn't make me I chose you. I chose the one and the other of you.

Amina

How can a baby single out its parents?

(Smiles. She is amazed at the perceptions being dropp by dint of Malcolm - perceptions she has none considered before, but perceptions that are the two daring and sensible.)

Malcolm

No. (Correcting her) Really, the question is to what extent can parents choose a child? At conception, At that force you have no idea where you are. At that significance everything is out of superintend Even if you are trying to have a child, still You have no way of choosing anything. All you can Do is unclose the window. You have no way of knowing who will be derived Flying into the womb.