Ethelreen Cooper

I Can Do It Myself 

        This Sunday, Ethelreen laid in bed staring at the ceiling. She had a decision to make, marriage or independence. At seventeen, she was smart, sharp as a razor and creative beyond her years.  She wanted to see the world in color while everyone around her seemed content with the dull shades of tradition.  Her parents, good God-fearing people, had one wish: for her to marry Emmett Kenny after graduating high school. 

        "He's a smart young man, Ethelreen," her father would say. "Hardworking, steady, and he’s crazy about you. You both would do good by each other."

         She did love Emmett, just not the way a wife was supposed to. Not in the way that made a woman wake up in the morning excited to serve coffee and cut biscuits for a man she’d call ‘husband’. She loved him like an old poem, —a familiar rhyme, that brought comfort, but not passion.

        "I ain't even eighteen yet," she remembered venting to her best friend, Naomi. "How they expect me to be somebody’s wife when I don’t know who I am yet?"

        “Cause that’s what girls do, Ethel. We graduate, we get married, we make babies, and if we lucky, we die before we get too tired," Naomi retorted.     

         Ethelreen felt her chest twist. She knew there was truth in Naomi’s words. Women like them, —Black, young, and poor, were expected to follow the path laid out for them: marriage, babies, and a quiet life of sacrifice.  She rolled her eyes at the mere thought of the mundane life her parents mapped out for her of washing clothes and fixing supper. She knew there was a better path than marrying Emmett.       

       "Do I truly need a husband when I can join the army on my own?" she pondered. “What do I need with a man anyhow? I’ll be woman enough to carry myself. I wanna do something important. Be somebody important.” 

        Ethelreen grinned thinking of adventures the Army would take her on. She dreamed of running through the streets of Paris or standing on the cliffs of Italy. She imagined the feel of cobblestone under her feet, the hum of languages she didn’t yet understand, and the way the wind would taste different in Rome or Germany.

        And then there were the boys. The thought sent a thrill up her spine.      

        She'd never say it out loud, but Ethelreen was curious. About the way Italian boys spoke with their hands, about the way their lips curved when they said words like ‘bella’ and ‘amore’. She wanted to know what it was like to be kissed by someone who had never seen her as just a girl meant for cooking and cleaning. Someone like John Key.

        John sat two seats ahead of her in math class. Blond hair, sharp jaw, blue eyes that reminded her of a winter sky, —cold but striking. He never spoke to her, but he looked at her sometimes. Quick glances. Just enough for her to notice.  But she knew better than to let those thoughts linger too long.  Liking a white boy in Louisiana wasn’t just dangerous, —it was foolish. And yet, she couldn’t help but wonder. What would it be like if she lived in a place where nobody cared? Where she could walk beside a man like John, without whispers turning into threats?  She pushed the thought away. It didn’t matter.  Soon, she’d be gone. Away from Louisiana. Away from her parents’ expectations. Away from Emmett Kenny and the life she didn’t want.  The Army was her ticket out. And when she left, she’d go far. Maybe to Italy, where she could finally be just Ethelreen...—bold, brilliant, and free.