The Nigger Factory by Gil Scott Heron

her father’s unmarried sister to share the three-bedroom house with her, but she learned that her relatives felt that her unmarried pregnancy had contributed to her father’s death. In a bitter scene on the steps of Angie’s home her aunt had called her the Sutton whore and university tramp, unworthy of the love her father had given her.
    Earl Thomas was the nicest thing that had ever happened to Angie. She trembled when she realized how she had nearly never met him, and even after their meeting had almost turned him away with her bitterness and icy reserve. He was so good to her. She felt so safe with him. And best of all, he got along well with Bobby.
    Her relationship with Earl had not started off well. She had considered him just another application for a summer job when he applied for work at Sutton Computers, where she worked as the employment secretary. Her son’s father had been a Sutton student and nothing in the world meant more to her after her father died than saving enough money to leave Sutton and the rest of Virginia far behind.
    But it hadn’t been that simple. Though her father had paidfor the house, after the funeral expenses and lawyer fees to close out all responsibilities to the hospital and the doctor, what little insurance there had been was exhausted, and what with car payments on her second-hand Volkswagen, and living expenses for herself and Bobby, there was no money to move and no time to do extra work to save any money.
    She had been approached several times by the younger Black men at the factory, but she always felt she could detect a sneer behind their eyes because she was the mother of an illegitimate child and would supposedly have hot pants. At times she felt herself near tears because she was lonely but so far she had not found sincerity in any of the eyes that coolly surveyed her across her desk or over a cup of coffee in the lounge.
    Once or twice when tossing restlessly, unable to sleep, she had even considered giving in to some of those inquiries, even though she knew it would only mean a fleeting chance to hold a man in her arms and later facing up to the bitter humiliation. She never tried to convince herself that she was a strong woman. She had missed Don, Bobby’s father, terribly, and even when she sat up late at night trying to balance her small budget, she never claimed that anything other than love for her son was making her so firm.
    But Earl had surprised her. The first time he stepped into the front office she had been there. She gave him a cool ‘How are you?’ and handed him an application, pointing to various lines where specific information was required. When he had finished she took the form from him and said very formally, ‘Mr Egson will see you now, Mr Thomas.’ Earl passed through the gate, into the secretarial area, and on into the back of the office where Mr Egson waited.
    She had thought about him only briefly. She considered him handsome. He was tall, well muscled across the shoulders and chest. He had a thick head of hair, but it was trimmed and neat as was his mustache. He had been dressed in a short-sleeved sports shirt, open at the throat, and a pair of slacks. His eyes were serious, almost sad, but he had a strong chin and hisnose was just right for the soft, but firm lips. The only point that she readily did not approve was the fact that he smoked and his index and middle fingers on each hand were stained yellow, clashing with the smooth amber of his hands, arms, and face. She had been tempted to ask him if he was Indian or of Indian descent, but that would have been definitely out of character.
    She nearly forgot about him. Her position in the front office rarely brought her into contact with the mechanics who worked on the assembly line. It was almost three weeks later when she next saw him. He had come into the air-conditioned personnel department mopping a handkerchief across his forehead, dressed in a faded sweatshirt and work jeans with an