I am told by Bonnie that there is a possible scholarship coming up that I can apply for. I go to the meeting and stand up to present my case. I can't seem to get around several black women of the committee who will make the judgment. I need to get up to the front of the stage so I can give a clear plea for my case. I finally just squeeze around them and feel like I'm being rude by standing in front of them, but I do it. Maya Angelou is in the audience and is on the committee that will make the decision. I tell them I write. "I am a freelance writer. I write poetry, plays, screenplays, and novels as well as other things, and I could use the 200 dollar grant or scholarship." I ask someone if it should be called a grant or a scholarship. They say, "Scholarship." My friend Bonnie, who is also on the committee, comes up, looking unhappy and sad. She says, "I'm sorry, but I have to tell you that I can't vote for you, and the others shouldn't as well because I had forgotten the rules. You would have to publish five things in five years and I don't think that is possible." She walks away, upset she had to do that to her friend. The women go away, believing her. I am hurt and angry. I go looking for Bonnie. I am in the old M City kitchen and I hear Mateo calling me from the bathroom. He comes out and says, "Hi," and talks in a friendly way. I say I like his longer hair style. I go out, calling Bonnie. She comes to me and I say, "I can't believe you did that." She says, "I'm sorry, I had forgotten the stipulations and I had to do that." She is torn between two loyalties, me, her friend and they, her community. I start to gather up my audio tapes I'd used as evidence of my work and accidentally pick up some others and put them back. They have sticker labels on them with their names on it and I wonder if I bothered to label mine with my name. I ask where Maya Angelou is. I really wanted to talk to her and meet her. Bonnie says, "She's tired and busy and has gone on." I am disappointed. Bonnie then goes to do other things and I call after her. "I can't believe you didn't have enough faith in me and my work that you believe I can't be published five times in five years. If I can't do that, I shouldn't even be writing." I repeat that. "I shouldn't even be writing if that were true. The only reason I haven't done it so far is that I haven't been marketing and sending my work out. I'd do that." She looks at me and turns to go talk to the black woman on the committee to rescind her statement. I wait.