THE SECTARIAN:
The story of a lovable,
religious bigot
by
Ssal Nogard
FADE IN
ABORTION
PROTEST
EXT.
ABORTION CLINIC DAY
An
abortion protest is being held outside an abortion clinic. There is so much commotion it is difficult
to read the signs that the protesters are waving. Police are pulling some protesters away and arresting them,
because they are getting too close to clients and employees of the clinic. An ASIAN FEMALE is being escorted further
away from the safety zone afforded its employees and clients entering and
leaving the clinic. She retreats as
ordered but yelling at the same time.
In her fervor, she advances too close to the clinic and the police begin
to arrest her.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Does this look like a face of a person who should be
arrested? What is she doing?
Two
cops are carrying the Asian female away from an abortion protest. The scene freezes as the narrator interrupts
the action.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(continuing)
Stop right there.
The
action stops.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(continuing)
No, back a little.
The
scene rewinds a little.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(continuing)
There.
The
scene stops again.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(continuing)
Now. Take a close
look at that face.
(pause)
Can you tell from the face what she's doing there? Well, from the signs and the yelling and the
literal dragging away of bodies, you can tell she's a protester. But what is she, and all the others,
screaming and kicking and protesting?
The
action begins again and our Asian female continues screaming.
ASIAN FEMALE
Get
your sinful hands off of me, you--
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Maybe you can tell by her face. If she were black, for instance, one might assume that this was a
civil rights protest. Let's try, for a
moment, to just figure what she is protesting by the kind of face she has. What kind of a face does that look like to
you?
The
Asian female's face is contorted into a very unattractive expression of
hollering and screaming. But nothing
can be heard but the Narrator's voice.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(continuing)
Okay, let's just say it is a very determined face. Anything else?
The
Asian female clutches her floppy Sunday hat to keep it from falling off during all the
tussling.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(continuing)
She's wearing an Easter hat. And gloves. In the
summer.
The
Asian female is yelling vigorously and with conviction, waving her gloved hands
and holding on to her wide-brimmed hat.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(continuing)
She seems to really believe in what she's protesting.
The
Asian female grabs at a fallen sign on the sidewalk. It reads "Protect the Unborn."
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(continuing)
Ah, she must be protesting at an abortion clinic, or
outside a courthouse where another abortion case is about to be decided. But it doesn't look like a courthouse.
The
Asian female waves the sign furiously as the cops try to handcuff her.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(continuing)
But which side is she protesting? The right to life or the right to
choice? Is she against choice or
against life? By the looks of her, I
mean, being Asian and all, and this being California...oops, but there I go,
stereotyping, assuming that because she's a California Asian, she must be a
liberal progressive. Hmm, I suppose
that's why I warned you to look closely.
Our
Asian female is yelling, being dragged away.
She has dropped the sign she was waving. A policeman holds her by each of her arms.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(continuing)
That wouldn't be--
The
Asian female is screaming in a Southern Accent.
ASIAN FEMALE
Let go of me, you purveyors of evil. Protect the unborn! You big bully! You wouldn't touch me if you didn't have that badge on! Well, I got news for you, buddy!
The good Lord is the only true authority and the likes of you will
tremble before him when you stand judgment for wielding your unscrupulous power
to perpetuate the slaughter of the unbo-orn!
While
the Asian female is ranting, she drops to her knees, becoming a deadweight,
making it difficult for the policemen to drag her away.
ASIAN FEMALE
(continuing)
That's it! Go
ahead and drag a defender of the Lord Almighty away. We shall overcome! We
shall
overco-ome!
She
continues alternating between struggling and going limp in the policemens'
grasp.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
--that wouldn't be a terrible Southern accent, would
it? As it so happens, it would.
(resigned)
Be a terrible Southern accent.
But what would an Asian female in Southern California be
doing with a mangled southern accent?
Is she pretending? A poser,
perhaps. No, dear friends, the accent
is real. Or as her friends used to say,
terrifically real. Most everything
about this girl was real. Maybe not
real real, but let's step back a little to explain what we mean.
FLASHBACK:
AUNT TATEM IS SICK.
INT.
KITCHEN DAY
NARRATOR (V.O.)
My
parents were flower children. It didn't
matter if they were at Woodstock or not, or if they were even alive at the
time, they wouldn't have cared. As is
always the case with real flower children, they were flower children no matter
what, even when they were living in Mississippi.
A man
and a woman are in the kitchen. They
are preparing dinner.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(continuing)
How they came to live with Aunt Tatem was unintended, and
its effect on the likes of my parents were as well.
The woman
is searching for something in the cupboards while the man is chopping
vegetables.
MOTHER
That was Aunt T.
FATHER
What did she want?
MOTHER
(sighing)
Well, you know she hasn't been doing well.
Mother
goes to the stove and stirs a pot that is simmering.
FATHER
She's going on seventy, isn't she? Even she didn't expect to last this long.
MOTHER
Well, it's something else. Throat Cancer.
FATHER
(quietly)
Whistles, so the tobacco finally worked its poison,
huh.
MOTHER
Yes.
(pause)
And...
FATHER
And?
MOTHER
(keeping her eyes on the pot)
And she wants us to come live with her.
FATHER
(surprised)
What? I thought
she never wanted to see you again.
Unless you repented your ways.
(cannot help chuckling)
MOTHER
Well, she's dying, Brent, what is she going to do?
(pause)
What are we going to do...
FATHER
Oh, no. I love her
as much as, well, as I can, but I'm not going to run down to some god-forsaken
town.
MOTHER
The people go to church every Sunday. And some more.
FATHER
Okay, a god-choked town where all they do is stuff god
down your throat, tout family values, and have more divorces and out of wedlock
children than anywhere else in the country.
MOTHER
She's all alone.
FATHER
(sighs, puts the knife down)
Well, I guess I always wanted to have god around all the
time.
(smiles, kisses, and embraces Mother reassuringly)
MOVING
TO AUNT TATEM'S IN MISSISSIPPI
EXT.
CAR DAY
NARRATOR (V.O.)
My parents were fond believers that people were
fundamentally good at heart and could be changed. So were the people they lived among. My parents thought this would give them an unasked for chance to
spread the nirvana. So did the people
they moved in upon. They called it
salvation. Was there a difference? To my parents, no. To the people of that small town? Yes. Most definitely,
yes. The difference, to them, meant the
difference between salvation and a fiery afterlife.
EXT.
SMALL HOUSE DAY
Mother
and Father have arrived at Aunt Tatem's house.
They start unpacking the car and go into the house.
INT.
AUNT TATEM'S HOUSE DAY
Aunt
Tatem lies on a bed as Mother comes in with an armful of books and kisses
her. Mother puts the books on a table
in front of Aunt Tatem.
MOTHER
Aunt Tatem. You're
looking gorgeous.
AUNT TATEM
Where's that hunk of a husband of yours?
MOTHER
He's unpacking the truck.
AUNT
Well, why do you think I invited you? Get him in here, Brenda.
Aunt
Tatem looks dubiously at the books on Buddhist meditation and clears her
cancer-ridden throat.
AUNT TATEM
You know, you should be careful about reading this
stuff. And mind you don't practice it
alone.
VIOLET
Why, Aunt T.?
AUNT TATEM
Because when you "clear your mind of all earthly
worries", you let the devil slip in.
VIOLET
I'll be careful to ask who's at the door first.
AUNT TATEM
Those who laugh are always the first to be taken in by
Mestopheles.
VIOLET
Don't you think he'd be too busy to bother?
AUNT TATEM
The devil is interested in everybody.
VIOLET
So he's like god, then.
AUNT TATEM
What in the devil's name are you talking about?
VIOLET
In the good lord's name, Auntie. A good shepherd never leaves even one of his flock behind,
either, right?
AUNT TATEM
Don't blaspheme, Violet.
VIOLET
I’m just noting the differences, Aunt T.
AUNT TATEM
Notice that I’m out of tea. Remember I like it strong, honey, not sugar.
VIOLET
Yes, dear.
AUNT TATEM
Dying woman can't get a decent cup of tea around her own
home.
Mother
kisses her on the head and takes the teacup to the kitchen to steep some more
tea.
AUNT TATEM
I talked to Dan.
He's drawing up the papers so's you and Brent can stay here after I’m
gone.
VIOLET
I don't think we'll be staying, dearest.
AUNT TATEM
It'll do you good.
Get all that nonsense you get from living by too much surf. Sun's gone to your head. You should wear a hat you know. Get brain fever, mark my words.
TIME
TO GO TO CHURCH
EXT. AUNT TATEM'S HOUSE DAY
NARRATOR (V.O)
Things didn't work out exactly the way anyone
expected. My Aunt went into remission
several times, which is to say, she never really got better.
Aunt
Tatem, dressed for church in hat and gloves, knocks on Brent and Brenda's
bedroom door. No answer. She opens the door and walks in. Brent and Brenda are sleeping. The room is dark.
NARRATOR (V.O)
(continuing)
Even though, needless to say, my parents were always the
center of attention, as they liked to put it, or as their neighbors put it, a
thorn in the side of their peaceful, loving town, You would think my Aunt would
not tolerate them. However, she had a
thing for trying to convert infidels.
Aunt
Tatem walks to the window.
AUNT TATEM
Violet, it's time for church.
VIOLET
(muffled voice)
Not going, Aunt.
Aunt
Tatem opens the shades.
BRENT
(wakes up)
What the--?
AUNT TATEM
It's Sunday, time to worship and give thanks to the Lord
for everything he's given and done for us during the past week.
VIOLET
(rolling over onto her husband)
We did that at the beginning of the week, Auntie, we do it
everyday.
AUNT TATEM
But you must do it in the house of the Lord. How else will he hear you?
VIOLET
Auntie, close the shades.
God hears us wherever we are, at least that's what our neighbors were
always complaining about
(giggling)
and if place mattered, I think open air thanks reaches him
better. That's how we do it. Or at least we used to, until we got
caught.
Now good night.
AUNT TATEM
(sighs)
I'll pray an extra Hail Mary for you both.
BRENT
Amen.
Aunt
Tatem leaves the bedroom.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
My parents literally wore flowers in their hair for many
years, my dad, too.
Brent
is reading on the porch. A basket of
freshly cut flowers is at Violet's feet.
She finishes making a wreath of flowers and places it on Brent's head.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(continuing)
This bothered many of the town folk, but none of them said
anything, as my Dad was six-foot-four and two hundred twenty pounds. It didn't bother my parents; they seemed to
get their equilibrium from other people's disequilibria, particularly when they
were the source of that discomfort.
INT.
ROOM IN AUNT TATEM'S HOUSE DAY
Violet
and Brent are building a room into a nursery.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
(continuing)
How did I know all this since I wasn't even born yet? The same way that I knew that my sister
wasn't exactly the type of child my parents wanted. Or so I had thought at the time.
My older sister was unexpected.
No, my parents wanted children.
Only they had wanted another one.
You see, the doctor had told my mother that she could not have children,
and so my parents decided to adopt.
They had lined up an orphan from Nigeria.
In short, things get around. In a small town, each member feels that it is his individual duty
to update a person on all the facts that, if known to the person, would make
him uncomfortable.
ADOPT
AN AFRICAN?
INT. AUNT TATEM'S HOUSE DAY
A
NEIGHBOR has come to visit. She has
brought a blueberry pie, which she places on the dining room table. Mother walks to the room where she had been
making up the nursery and motions the Neighbor to follow. The nursery is unfinished.
MOTHER
I'm making up the nursery. What do you think of the mobile?
The mobile is made of people from different parts of the world in ethnic
dress.
The
Neighbor frowns at it.
MOTHER
We're going to teach him languages early; the mobile hums
out different words in French, Spanish, and Latin.
The
Neighbor does not comment but instead blurts out:
NEIGHBOR
(worried)
Are you sure it won't bring yellow fever to the town?
Violet
holds up the wallpaper.
VIOLET
How do you like the color? It's a neutral beige pink.
NEIGHBOR
Are you getting a girl?
VIOLET
He (emphasis) won't.
He'll be vaccinated and checked for everything before the immigration
officials will allow him in.
NEIGHBOR
How do you know what kind of family he comes from?
VIOLET
We don't. But it's
pretty safe to say that his parents were killed in the recent uprising. Very probably they were poor and loved their
son very much.
Violet
leaves the wallpaper and beings fussing with the drapes.
NEIGHBOR
What's wrong with adopting an American child? We've plenty of orphans here who need
parents.
VIOLET
We thought about that.
Reaching out halfway across the world, there's just something so
connecting, uniting in it. As if we're
all part of the same world, we're all god's children.
I can't get them to drape right. See?
Violet
holds the curtain fabric up for the Neighbor to inspect.
NEIGHBOR
Should put some starch in them. Indeed we are, but there's no harm in helping our closer brothers
and sisters.
Violet
inspects the curtain fabric.
VIOLET
I'm not interested in adopting a white child. There's a snag running through this. Didn't see it before.
NEIGHBOR
I can see that.
What's wrong with adopting a white child? Aren't they as good as black children?
VIOLET
Of course they are.
NEIGHBOR
Even better for white parents.
VIOLET
If that's your defining quality for humans.
NEIGHBOR
It's natural. It
comes first because that's what people see.
VIOLET
I know. I wish people
could walk inside out, with their intestines and liver and kidneys hanging
out. That way you could see what your
really getting. An alcoholic, a smoker. Defining children this way.
NEIGHBOR
(stiffly)
You know, we're not all bigots in the South.
VIOLET
We're not all heathens that are going to hell in
California.
NEIGHBOR
That's what you think.
That's where you liberals go wrong.
God struck down Gomorrah once.
He'll do it again.
VIOLET
I'm glad it's not a symmetrical idea.
NEIGHBOR
What isn't?
VIOLET
I'm glad I can't say the same for you. That some of your ideas are wrong.
NEIGHBOR
(huffy)
Of course not.
The
neighbor picks up a blanket.
NEIGHBOR
You know, my mother used mohair blankets. It's soft and light enough for the
summer.
VIOLET
Doesn't the hair cause allergies?
NEIGHBOR
Not if you get a good weave. I'll see if I can dig up my baby blanket. I put it away after Samuel went to college.
VIOLET
I'd appreciate it, Mrs. Weaver.
ADOPTING
AN ASIAN, MY LITTLE BANANA
INT.
ROOM DAY
NARRATOR (V.O.)
When my sister came, the townsfolk felt that god had made
them a compromise, and were eager, at the start, to accept my sister. The black son that my parents wanted fell
through. My dad, especially, had wanted
to train a little football hero, never having been really talented himself,
even at touch football. My mother, not
wanting a boy, really was glad to have a girl first.
Father
and Mother take turns holding their little Asian girl.
VIOLET
Do we really want to change her name?
BRENT
She's going to stick out bad enough as it is.
VIOLET
But, can't we name her something more normal?
BRENT
Luzy-Ann is normal, here at least.
VIOLET
I'll call her "Luz".
BAPTISM
INT.
CHURCH MORNING
It is
LUZY-ANN's baptism. The priest gently
wets her head with holy water. After
the priest blesses the baby, sings the cross, Aunt Tatem holds her.
PRIEST
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.
AUNT TATEM
(whispers)
You will have a great cross to bear. But I will share your burden.
A choir
is singing a hymn.
CHOIR
(singing)
"And let all who have suffered, let them come to the
Lord, without sorrow, without strife..."
NARRATOR (V.O.)
But it was my aunt who seemed to know what it really meant
for a child such as my sister to be raised in a place such as our small
town. It was because she was to be part
of the cause and the problem, that she knew so well.
