"You Have the Rite" | Marc Bamuthi Joseph

譯者: Harper Chang 審譯者: Amanda Chu

Me and the boy wear the same shoe size.

我和兒子穿相同鞋碼，

He wants a pair of Air Jordan 4s for Christmas.

聖誕他想要一雙 AJ 4s，

I buy them,

我買下了鞋，

and then I steal them from his closet,

卻又從他衣櫃中偷走，

like a twisted Grinch-themed episode of "Black-ish."

像黑人版的鬼精靈偷走聖誕節。

(Laughter)

（笑聲）

The kicks are totems to my youth.

跑鞋是我年輕時代的圖騰，

I wear them like mercury on my Black man feet.

我如腳踩福特水星，

I can't get those young freedom days back fast enough.

卻也追不回自由的年輕歲月，

Last time I was really fast I was 16,

但 16 歲的我，跑得飛快， 甩掉上東城區的門衛，

outrunning a doorman on the Upper East Side.

He caught me vandalizing his building,

他發現我在他的大廈塗鴉。

not even on some artsy stuff,

倒不是塗在什麼藝術品上，

just ... stupid.

我就是......愚蠢。

Of all the genders, boys are the stupidest.

所有性別中，男孩最愚蠢。

(Laughter)

（笑聲）

Sixteen was a series of barely getting away

16 歲是三番兩次 從警察指縫溜走的日子，

and never telling my parents.

但我從來不對爸媽說，

I assume that my son is stewarding this tradition well.

猜想我兒子也沿襲了這優良傳統。

16 歲時馬文·蓋伊的旋律飄揚，

Sixteen was "The Low End Theory" and Marvin Gaye on repeat.

《低層理論》專輯循環播放。

16 歲的年紀，

Sixteen is younger than Trayvon and older than Emmett Till.

比被警察無故槍殺的崔文年輕，

比受私刑虐死的艾莫·提爾年長。

At the DMV, my boy's in line to officially enter his prime suspect years:

兒子在監理所排着隊等考駕照，

步向被無故列為頭號嫌疑犯的歲月；

young, brown and behind the wheel,

黑皮膚，愛開車，正年輕，

a moving semaphore, signaling the threat of communities from below.

是刺目的黑人旗幟，

是來自下層社會的威脅。

On top of the food chain, humans have no natural predator,

站在食物鏈頂端，人類本無天敵，

but America plays out something genetically embedded and instinctual

美利堅對黑人的食慾，

in its appetite for the Black body.

卻嵌入本能。

America guns down Black bodies and then walks around them,

美利堅擊斃黑色身體，

繞其行走，百般聊賴，

bored,

like laconic lions next to half-eaten gazelles,

如冷漠的獅子，

與吃剩的羚羊，

bloody lips ...

血盆大口，

"America and the Black Body" on some Nat Geo shit.

似〈國家地理〉的相片， 標題：〈美利堅與黑人屍體〉。

Well, he passes his road test at the DMV.

兒子路考過了，

He does this strut C-Walk broken "Fortnite" thing

得意地邊跳著胡亂的嘻哈街舞，

on the way in to finish his paperwork,

邊走到文書作業區。

true joy and calibrated cool under the eye of my filming iPhone,

我的手機鏡頭裏他歡樂至極，

the victory dance of someone who has just salvaged a draw.

像是在緊張情勢下得分的球場英雄。

He's earned this win, but he's so 16

他勝利了，但太 16 歲， 還帶著太多青澀。

he can't quite let his body be fully free.

When he's three,

他 3 歲時，

I'm in handcuffs in downtown Oakland.

我在奧克蘭被銬上手銬，

Five minutes ago, I was illegally parked.

5 分鐘前，我違規停車，

Now I'm in the back of a squad car, considering the odds that I'm going to die

5 分鐘後，在警車後座 盤算著存活機率。

here, 15 minutes away from my son who expects that in 18 minutes,

15 分鐘車程會到他的幼稚園， 原本會早 3 分鐘接到他，

daddy's gonna pick him up from preschool.

There are no pocket-size cameras to capture this moment, so.

當時沒有行動相機來捕捉這一切，

I learned a lot of big words when I was 16 getting ready for the SAT,

我 16 歲準備 SAT 考試時， 學了很多高尚的詞藻，

but none of them come to me now.

這時一個也想不起來。

In the police car, the only thing that really speaks is my skin.

警車上，只有膚色能說話。

I know this:

我默默回想：

I was parked on a bus zone on 12th and Broadway,

我把車停在百老匯 和第 12 街的公車停靠區，

running to the ATM on the corner.

奔向街角的提款機，

I pull the cash out just as a police car pulls up behind me,

剛領到錢，就見一輛警車停在身後，

give him the "Aw shucks, my bad," that earnest Black man face.

努力擠出「啊！真抱歉」的 誠懇黑人表情。

He waits till I'm back in the car and then hits the siren,

我回到車上，他才拉響警笛，

takes my license with his hand on the gun,

一手在腰間的槍上，一手收繳駕照，

comes back two minutes later, gun drawn, another patrol car now, four cops now,

兩分鐘後，槍已握在他手上，

多來了一輛巡邏車，共有四個警察。

my face on the curb, hands behind my back, shackled.

我的臉被壓在人行道上，

雙手反剪，牢牢銬住。

I'm angry and humiliated, only until I'm scared and then sad.

憤怒、屈辱、

然後恐懼、悲傷。

I smell like the last gasp before my own death.

我的命如在旦夕。

I think how long the boy will wait before he realizes

我的兒子還未意識到，

that daddy is not on his way.

爸爸不會來接他了。

I think his last barely formed memory of me

他對我最後的記憶，

will be the story of how I never came for him.

將是苦苦等待，爸爸卻沒有出現。

I try to telepathically say goodbye.

我試著用心靈感應告別，

The silence brings me no peace.

寂靜之下沒有平靜，

The quiet makes it hard to rest.

沉默之中難求安詳。

In the void there is anger mushrooming in the moss at the base of my thoughts,

一片空白中， 憤怒在思考的底層醞釀，

a fungus growing on the spine of my freedom attempts.

蠶食著我骨子裡爭取自由的希望。

I'm free from all except contempt,

動盪時代中的庶民， 一個手無寸鐵的靈魂，

the spirit of an unarmed civilian in the time of civil unrest,

惟一能銬住我的就是蔑視。

no peace, just Marvin Gaye falsettos arching like a broken-winged sparrow,

沒有和平，如折翼的麻雀，

只剩馬文·蓋伊的高音迴蕩，

competing against the empty sirens,

抵抗空虛的警笛——警察之歌。

singing the police.

Apparently some cat from Richmond had a warrant out on him,

里奇蒙有個傢伙被通緝，

and when the cop says my name to dispatch, dude doesn't hear "Marc Joseph,"

當警察登記我的名字，

他把「馬克·約瑟夫」，

he hears "Mike Johnson."

錯聽成「邁克·詹森」。

I count seven cars and 18 cops on the corner now,

數一數，七個警車，十八個警察，

a pride around a pound of flesh.

全來分食這一小塊肉，還得意洋洋。

By the grace of God, I'm not fed to the beast today.

感謝上帝，這次我逃過獅口。

Magnanimously, the first cop makes sure to give me a ticket

警察開恩，給我開了罰單： 公車停靠區違規停車，

for parking in a bus zone,

before he sets me free.

然後釋放了我。

The boy is 16.

我的兒子 16 歲，

He has a license to drive in the hollow city,

他有了駕照，能在空洞的城市飛馳，

enough body to fill my shoes.

強壯的大人身，懵懂的孩子心。

I have grey in my beard,

而我鬍子泛白，日漸蒼老。

and it tells the truth.

He can navigate traffic in the age of autonomous vehicles.

在自動駕駛時代， 他能在車陣中穿梭自如。

You know, people say "the talk,"

黑人爸媽對孩子的那番「談話」，

like the thing happens just once,

談話就這一番， 好像事件只會發生一次，

like my memory's been erased and my internet is broken,

好像記憶都已抹滅， 好像網路都斷了線，

like I can't read today's martyred name,

好像我忘卻了逝者之名，

like today's the day that I don't love my son enough

好像我的愛不足以開口訴說：

to tell him, "Bro, I really don't care about your rights, yo.

「兒子，我不在乎你的權利，

Your mission is to get home to me.

你只需要回家，

Live to tell me the story, boy.

活着告訴我你的故事，

Get home to me."

回到我身邊。」

我目送他駛上公路， 這番話在我腦海寫就，

Today's talk is mostly happening in my head

as he pulls onto the freeway and Marvin Gaye comes on the radio.

馬文·蓋伊的歌聲衝出他的收音機。

I'm wearing the boy's shoes,

我穿着他的鞋，

and the tune in my head is the goodbye that I almost never said,

「再見」回響在腦海， 但總是來不及說出口，

a goodbye the length of a requiem,

因為這聲「再見」包含了 一首安魂曲、一個吻、

a kiss, a whiff of his neck,

一縷他脖頸的氣味，

the length of a revelation

還有一個啟示、

and a request flying high in the friendly sky

一句請求，穿越天際，乞求和平，

without ever leaving the ground.

但我只能停駐於此。

My pain is a walking bass line,

我的痛苦是低迴的旋律，

a refrain, placated stress against the fading baseline.

安撫着壓力，對抗消逝的底線。

Listen, this is not to be romantic,

聽着，這不是浪漫，

but to assert a plausible scenario for the existential moment.

而是一個殘酷的現實——

Driving while Black is its own genre of experience.

黑人開車經歷「與衆不同」，

Ask Marvin.

馬文·蓋伊的歌聲都見證過，

It may not be the reason why you sing like an angel,

你也許不是為此而擁有 如天使般的歌聲，

but it surely has something to do with why heaven bends to your voice.

但你讓天堂俯身傾聽不會沒有原因。

The boy driving, the cop in the rearview mirror

我的兒子開着車，

後視鏡中警車尾隨，

is a ticket to ride or die.

等待開出一張決定生死的罰單。

When you give a Black boy "the talk,"

當你給一個黑人男孩那番「談話」，

you pray he is of the faction of the fraction that survives.

你祈禱他是那少之又少的倖存者，

You pitch him the frequency of your telepathic goodbye,

你希望他聽到那句心靈感應的再見，

channel the love sustained in Marvin's upper register

你將愛灌注於馬文·蓋伊 無檐帽下的高音。

under his skullcap.

Black music at its best

最好的黑人音樂，

is an exploded black hole

是個被引爆的黑洞，

responding to the call of America at its worst.

回應着美國最壞的時代。

Strike us down, the music lives,

我們倒下，音樂永存。

dark, like tar or tobacco

黑色，如焦油與菸絲，

or cotton in muddy water.

如棉花浸泡於泥水。

Get home to me, son.

回到我身邊，兒子，

Like a love supreme, a god as love,

像至愛，像神化身成的愛，

a love overrules,

勝過一切的愛，

feathers for the angelic lift of the restless dead,

像指引不安死者的天使，

like a theme for trouble man,

像「黑手煞星」的故事主題，

or a 16-year-old boy, free to make mistakes and live through them,

或是個 16 歲男孩， 容許他在犯錯中存活，

grow from them,

在犯錯中成長。

holy, holy, mercy, mercy me,

神啊，神啊，

憐憫，憐憫我，

mercy,

憐憫我，

mercy.

憐憫我。

Thank you.

謝謝大家。

(Applause)

（掌聲）