Break the Barrier

"Nooooooo!" I shouted.

"Nooooooo!" I woke up screaming and struggling in the middle of the night. I had this nightmare often.

This dream haunted me almost every night. My mother said my father used to have a similar nightmare before he died. He died the way his nightmare appeared. I was afraid that the same thing would happen to me.

"It's a shame to be a Negro because society scorns me." Audition Summer, 1969. I was 19 years old and on my way to an audition for an opera. I was running late in tied-up downtown traffic. Carrying up my violin I blindly crossed on a green light and narrowly escaped being hit by a taxicab.

"Are you out of your mind?" the driver shouted angrily at me with a strong Caribbean accent as I continued running.

I got to the auditorium fifteen minutes before they stopped auditioning. I got in the waiting line by the entrance on the curb. I was second behind a beautiful blond chick in her early twenties. I presumed she was also a violinist. I stood behind her, gesturing as if I were playing the violin. I was just practicing mentally. She turned around, glanced at me, then moved three steps forward, away from me. Five minutes passed.

"Next in line, please," said the security guard, a serious-looking white man in his thirties.

The blonde stepped forward.

"This way, miss," he told her, pointing to the entrance.