I Am a Red Dress by Camilleri Anna;

Author:Camilleri, Anna; [Camilleri, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Gay & Lesbian, Autobiography & Memoir, SOC049000, SOC028000
ISBN: 9781551523088
Publisher: Arsenal Pulp Press
Published: 2004-11-01T00:00:00+00:00

Daughter

I went to where the wind lives –

I put my ear there.

I went down below.

Where the wind lives is chaos;

what the wind does is blow.

– JUDY GRAHN

Lexicon of the Red Dress, part 3

Like a string of goslings, my grade two classmates and I were marched off to St Nicholas of Bari Church for our first confession. We sat in hard wooden pews in the dim light, fidgeting and giggling while we each waited for our turn in the confessional – our teacher’s finger pressed tight against her lips, shushing us. When it was my turn, a man I knew to call Father motioned me to follow. He wore a long brown robe and his hair parted sharply at the side. I stepped inside the room and the Father closed the door behind me. The room was empty except for two rust-coloured, vinyl chairs. He sat down across from me. “Do you have any sins to confess, my child?” he asked.

Sin, as I understood it, meant my badness. We had been taught that confessing our sins would wash them away, except for Original Sin. “I didn’t listen to my mother,” I offered. “I hit my brother. I didn’t do my math homework, and I failed the test.”

“Do you have any other sins to confess?”

I blinked back at him. “No, Father, I don’t think so.” I looked down uncomfortably. “I could be better, I could pray more.” I hoped my words would satisfy him.

“Do you ever touch yourself?”

I fidgeted in my seat and shook my head.

“Do you ever let anyone touch you, down there?”

Did he see what was in my heart? I tried to wipe my mind clean, but images of my grandfather – his hands on me, stubble rough against my skin – flickered behind my eyes, and I heard his words: If you ever tell anyone, I will take you to the hospital and have you sewn up. You are nothing but an ugly, dirty girl. I folded my hands, tried to look honest, and replied to the priest my best level, “No.”

“Do you ever look at picture books – dirty magazines? Do you ever touch yourself?” I was sure that the priest was no messenger from God and that I needed to get out of the room as quickly as possible. I pulled my braid around and twisted it nervously.

“No,” I said. He slumped into his seat with disappointment.

I rejoined my classmates, thankful for the dimness. I was no stranger to hateful words, or my belly turning itself inside out. Priest or not, he was nothing new. I made my own covenant with God. I promised God I would hold onto to myself as best I could, until I could wrest myself free. I didn’t believe that horrible things were an act of God. I believed in right and wrong and that people do bad things because it’s what they have chosen.

Some things have no place in this world. Some things deserve to be sent out of this world, or at the very least, put back to where they came from.

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