T he first decade of the 20th century was not a great time to be born black and poor and female in St Louis , Missouri, but Vivian Baxter was born black and poor, to black and poor parents.
Later she would grow up and be called beautiful. As a grown woman she would be known as the butter-coloured lady with the blowback hair. My mother, who was to remain a startling beauty, met my father, a handsome soldier, in Bailey Johnson had returned from the first world war with officer's honours and a fake French accent.
They were unable to restrain themselves. They fell in love while Vivian's brothers walked around him threateningly. He had been to war, and he was from the south, where a black man learned early that he had to stand up to threats, or else he wasn't a man. The Baxter boys could not intimidate Bailey Johnson, especially after Vivian told them to lay off. Vivian's parents were not happy that she was marrying a man from the south who was neither a doctor nor lawyer.
He said he was a dietician. The Baxters said that meant he was just a negro cook. Vivian and Bailey left the contentious Baxter atmosphere and moved to California, where little Bailey was born.
I came along two years later. My parents soon proved to each other that they couldn't stay together. They were matches and gasoline. They even argued about how they were to break up. Neither wanted the responsibility of taking care of two toddlers. They separated and sent me and Bailey to my father's mother in Arkansas.
