Page 87 of You've Got a Place Here, Too
“Well now, that’s alright.” Grandpop chuckled. “Now you know. And let me teach you a bit more of your history. See, the Africans that were enslaved and made to work out West was a bit different than the ones in the South. Still our brethren, still our kinfolk. But the work was different.
“Our ancestors wrangled herds of cattle all ’cross the grasslands. They were the ones breaking in horses, pulling cattle out of mud, and releasing longhorns caught in the brush. Just like they’d done in Africa, before they were stolen.
“And once they got their freedom, first thing Black cowboys did was form their own ranches, like ours here. Once they had they own ranches, they returned to their trailblazing, sharpshooting, horseback riding roots. And we still here. Doing just what they taught us—working hard, playing hard, and loving harder.
“So you see, Layla,” Grandpop concluded. “Being a cowboy is more than what we do. It’s who we are. And my grandson there is one of the best.”
As Layla sat with her head on his shoulder, cuddling as they wrapped one of Granny’s thick quilts around themselves and stared out at the fire, Leo realized just how much he loved being a cowboy. Things would be different when he returned toLangston University. He wasn’t quite sure how yet. But Leo knew he’d never lie about where he came from and most certainly not aboutwhohe came from ever again.
“What are you thinking about? Looking so serious,” Layla teased as she pinched one of his dimpled cheeks.
“Thinking ’bout you,” Leo said, no longer hiding his Western drawl.
“Is that right?” She giggled. “Well then tell me something cowboys say in moments like these.”
Leo cleared his throat as he tipped his Stetson before leaning in for a kiss. “I love you, woman. And hope you know you’re finer than frog hair split four ways!”
The Musty
Kiese Laymon
Author’s note: Kiese’s and Courtney’s names are intentionally misspelled in “The Musty” because the idea is that these are versions of us in this narrative world, not the actual one we inhabit.
The following is an unredacted transcript of a conversation between authors and friends Courtnay Baker and Kiese Layman. They are talking about their friend and colleague O.F., who is currently missing. We, here at the investigative journalNOMMO,are holding the transcript as evidence until the trial begins.
“I’m just not the social type and campus life is crazy.”
—Aubrey Drake Graham
K:Hey Courtnay, I’ma start in the middle because the beginning and the end feel super far away.
C:What’s going on?
K:Our friend at Jackson State asked me to hop on a Zoom and talk with him about the new work he’s been doing on Black Death, Black Romance, and Black Madness.
C:That thing he started when we were at Harvard together in the nineties. He always said he wanted to go back to his alma mater and do his research.
K:Jackson State?
C:Yup.
K:So I read a bit of his project he calls “The Musty.”
C:(laughing) Can you explain the Musty to me because I still don’t think I get it.
K:Our friend contends that nearly half of all rhetorical ingenuity in the United States is rooted in a twenty-mile radius between Clarksdale, Mississippi, and Greenville, Mississippi. He says it’s undeniable that “cappin’,” “talk to the hand,” “holler at your boy,” “hating,” “trippin’,” “I know she didn’t,” and the words “jazz,” “blues,” “funk,” all came from the Musty.
C:That just always seemed odd.
K:Odd is a sweet way to put it. I’ve been worrying about our friend for a minute. So I was on this Zoom where he was giving this lecture to like fourteen people and I get a private Zoom message from him during the Q and A portion.
C:While you’re listening to him talk?
K:While I’m listening to him talk, chile. Listen.
C:What did it say?
K:It saidThe Candy Lady and the Sharecropper need the Plug and the Imagination for Black Madness.
