The Fat Black Woman Performs a Vanishing Act

by Keisha Cassel

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            after Grace Nichols 

The fat black woman enters from stage left and walks to center stage.

            Tonight, I will not need an assist.
My grand display only needs a body
            and a long history of people begging you to destroy
said body. And as for materials, darling, all these things 
            will reveal themselves. Disappearing takes 
a little time and a powerful desire: the will to be no more. 
            Take a seat and enjoy the journey, the story, the sleight of hand.

The fat black woman pulls a chair from behind her back and sits.

As a young girl, I would hold various knives 
            ​and run them across my arm. However, did I resist 
that opportunity to vanish? The longer I perform, 
            the more I notice people look past me. Foolish of me 
to believe that I am more than the history of cruelty embodied. 
            Imagine wanting to be more than the rolls on your back.

The fat black woman stands and starts to dance around the stage gracefully.

No performer is above a bit of vanity. 
            We’re all attempting to feed the snarling beast within us. 
Perhaps, I’ve spent too much time on subjects you can’t handle. 
            Or maybe that’s just a part of the show. The great stall, 
using words to bend time—it never gets old. 
            ​The way my body moves on stage unassisted, 
all muscle memory; even our flesh holds tight to history, 
            which runs deep within us and sleeps next to the beast 
surviving on leftover morsels. 

The fat black woman returns to the chair and climbs onto the chair to stand on one leg.

This part is the hardest.  Always slightly more than I am capable of. 
            Long ago, I’m sure I wanted to be someone’s darling, 
but these days that is more like a footnote in history.
            Not for lack of trying, but no one wants to hand you
their heart when they suspect you can’t handle your body. 
            This is where the assistant would be helpful, this dismount. 
I’ve learned hope is irrational; the only truth is time. 

The fat black woman stands on both legs and jumps.

                notice                                                 time 
 pass                                                                                        furthermore. 
i’ve come to believe               i                       am   allowed to exist. 
now                  the      reveal                                          , darling
         i use to measure             if the fingers on my hand 
would fit around my wrist                  a spectacle    a  lie     a history. 


The fat black woman has five minutes until the second seating, time 
            ​is slipping through you. Please check with the stagehands 
for notes from the first show. Generally, we want more, more. 
            People seem to enjoy it when you walk through darkness.
It’s as if they believe without it, they cease to exist.

The fat black woman enters from stage left and walks to center stage.

        
            i will not               
                                                            assist
 
                                    people begging     
                                                to destroy my body     

                        dar ing             me 
​
                                                            to be 
​
                                                no more.

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Keisha is grappling with the mortifying idea of being known and sometimes writes poems.

Back to: Issue Nine

Next: Jeremy Radin