When I was ten my mother moved us back to
Michigan because she received a promotion at work that took her out of state,
at least that’s what she said at the time. I believe she jumped at this
opportunity to put some distance between herself and her abusive ex-husband. My
wicked stepfather was attempting to use my love of him to get back into her
life. My mother was no fool, so she solved that issue by moving us a state away
from the problem.
With her temper, my mother didn’t trust herself not to end his life if he weaseled his way back in. He’d beaten her black and blue one night. When I saw her, I crawled next to her and comforted her. It was the only time I’d ever seen my mother holding a gun. I asked about his gun. She told me she used it to get him to leave. She informed him if he ever touched her again, he wouldn’t know when, but he’d know why he was going to die by her hand. She told me that my wicked stepfather was out of the house and not coming back except to get his shit.
Before he could officially move his things out of our house, I ran around with a pair of scissors and destroyed every VHS tape in the place. They all belonged to him. He’d bought a VCR with what little money he earned, so it was something I knew he enjoyed. The only thing that saved his life that night, my mother wasn’t willing to put me in the system by going to prison. This is also the reason despite all his wickedness, he is not listed as one of my abusers. Again, my mother would have MURDERED A MAN in her bed that tried to pull me into it too. She trusted me to tell her if he ever did.
The first thing my mother discovered in Michigan was that she couldn’t afford a private education for me any longer. So she decided to move us to the suburbs rather than back to Detroit for the sake of my education. She had a co-worker friend who was struggling at the time and wanted to get her daughter out of the Detroit school system, she was having some financial trouble too. So both my mother and her mother decided to pull a Kate & Allie w/o Chip living situation. Wondering why our mothers didn't want to raise their daughters in Detroit? I think Eminem explains this best.
Kate was really pissed and asked that I be punished, once I finally confessed to my crime that is. Oopsie! Look, I’m a writer for a reason. Lying was a life skill I used to get me out of punishments from my mother. I felt bad about it until I snatched 'creative editing' from the universe in college. Up until that point I couldn’t lie without giving it away. The very first time my mother caught me in a lie when I was four, she told me she was hurt by it. She’d hoped I’d never lie to her. Which is why I only used it if I feared the consequence, IE, no television, being ground, my freedom revoked at my mother’s discretion.
So, as to the Kate & Ally Fashion Debacle, well, Kate felt my punishment was too light. My mother raised my allowance to that of Ally’s weekly payment. My mother had been trying to teach me how to make due with whatever I had, but realized that she could afford to give me a better allowance than she’d given me. I was only learning to steal what I couldn’t afford.
I’d already had my first and forth stupid day jobs. A paper route and babysitting gigs. Ally stole one of my babysitting jobs once. She claimed she didn’t know it was already my family to babysit. I didn’t believe her at the time. I lied about stuff, I knew she lied about stuff, so yup, didn’t believe her. I felt she’d done it to hurt me. I was twelve at the time. We stopped living together soon after that incident.
So who was right in our situations? All of us. Who was wrong in our situations? All of us. We each learned to take responsibility for our own actions. If my mother were still alive today all four of us would still be friends/Family. Currently, Ally is just another SFAM (sista from another mother) and Kate is another strong black woman I can turn to when I need it.
With her temper, my mother didn’t trust herself not to end his life if he weaseled his way back in. He’d beaten her black and blue one night. When I saw her, I crawled next to her and comforted her. It was the only time I’d ever seen my mother holding a gun. I asked about his gun. She told me she used it to get him to leave. She informed him if he ever touched her again, he wouldn’t know when, but he’d know why he was going to die by her hand. She told me that my wicked stepfather was out of the house and not coming back except to get his shit.
Before he could officially move his things out of our house, I ran around with a pair of scissors and destroyed every VHS tape in the place. They all belonged to him. He’d bought a VCR with what little money he earned, so it was something I knew he enjoyed. The only thing that saved his life that night, my mother wasn’t willing to put me in the system by going to prison. This is also the reason despite all his wickedness, he is not listed as one of my abusers. Again, my mother would have MURDERED A MAN in her bed that tried to pull me into it too. She trusted me to tell her if he ever did.
The first thing my mother discovered in Michigan was that she couldn’t afford a private education for me any longer. So she decided to move us to the suburbs rather than back to Detroit for the sake of my education. She had a co-worker friend who was struggling at the time and wanted to get her daughter out of the Detroit school system, she was having some financial trouble too. So both my mother and her mother decided to pull a Kate & Allie w/o Chip living situation. Wondering why our mothers didn't want to raise their daughters in Detroit? I think Eminem explains this best.
Warning:
Explicit lyrics, duh, it's Eminem
Kate & Allie was a sitcom on
television where two women decided to live together and help each other raise
their kids, two girls and a boy named Chip. Basically the show was the closest
thing television had to a lesbian living situation in the ‘80s. It seemed like
a better way to live. By combining households my single mother and the other
single mother were able to combine resources for the betterment of all
involved. So what if they were approaching 40 years of age and thought they’d
be married and have men helping them raise their children. When my mother saw a
better option than struggling, she adjusted. Hence living with Kate (the other
mom) and Ally (the other daughter).
Financial failure was a major concern for
my mother. She sacrificed a lot to raise me in a safe environment. Did she make
mistakes, of course. But the thing I loved most about my mother was her ability
to keep an open mind about everything. Most of the time, especially after she
had therapy for her abusive actions toward me (see earlier post) we debated
instead of fighting.
When we fought, we used top volume (people in other countries could hear us yelling), rolling eyes and necks. She threatened physical violence, like hair pulling or slapping the black off of me, but as she never hit me in an anger again, I could forgive her this sin. I’d also learned my own lesson that physical violence was no way to solve my problems. I learned this lesson when a little white girl half my size successfully defended herself from my attempt to hit her in my sophomore year of high school. I considered taking self-defense courses, but decided to verbally try to end my conflicts. If that couldn’t be done, I still had yet to learn to walk away from a fight. That would come from working stupid day jobs a term I snatched from Mr. Wally Pleasant.
My mother was willing to learn a new, a better way to handle any situation. She rarely maintained a grudge and she got herself away from people who worked her last nerve until she could cool off. If they really disrespected her, they couldn’t return to her life. Yet she spent a lot of time drinking and isolating from the world. By the time I realized my mother needed a best friend, she already had one in me.
She shared a lot of information most people are told not to share with their child. Then she did one better for me. My mother didn’t need me to make the choices she would make with that information, she only wanted me to do better than her. She allowed me the freedom to choose my own path. Once abuse as a punishment was removed from our situation, I accepted any punishment she was willing to give for my crimes.
So I committed what I believed were crimes. I respected authority-figures like the police. See, I read that motto on the side of every police car I’ve ever seen. Police men and women were supposed to “Protect & Serve”. I asked my mother who they were protecting and serving, she said their communities. Cool. Her bottom line? She refused to bail my stupid black ass out of jail. Oh yes, I would be considered stupid for getting caught in her eyes. Enter the title I believe my Goddess has given me, 'favorite sneaky little bitch'. Until I started having full-blown manic episodes, I’d never had a problem with the police. I could get away with any crime I was willing to commit, the caveat, the addendum, ‘Don’t Get Caught!’
I lived in a death penalty state, so no murder for me. I knew people could be raped in prison and after being molested, I had no desire to be raped. I was under the impression that if I went to jail or prison it could happen to me. So that limited the crimes I committed. With those as my choices, armed with the knowledge I’d already signed a contract with my mother that I was going to college, getting a job and paying rent, or getting the hell out of her house, I lived my life.
Ally stole an idea from me once while we were still in that living situation. I’d seen an outfit that I thought was extremely nice. I wanted it. I pictured myself in it and told Ally I wanted it. We were out shopping with her mother, Kate. It was my first interest in fashion. Ally decided to try it on, then her mother purchased the outfit for her. I still wanted the outfit. When I asked my mother for it when we got home she told me she couldn’t afford it. I was eleven years old at the time. Ally didn’t realize at the time that she’d stolen my outfit idea, because she was twelve years old.
Her mother bought her things she wanted. In my eyes EVERYTHING she wanted. My mother was frugal as hell, she didn’t want to pay that much for it. See what I didn’t realize at the time was my mother always used, 'she couldn’t afford it' any time I asked for something and filed it away as a possible gift idea for me. Since I didn’t realize this, I stole Ally’s allowance as a result. My mother up until that point didn't give me nearly as much money for an allowance as Kate gave to Ally.
When we fought, we used top volume (people in other countries could hear us yelling), rolling eyes and necks. She threatened physical violence, like hair pulling or slapping the black off of me, but as she never hit me in an anger again, I could forgive her this sin. I’d also learned my own lesson that physical violence was no way to solve my problems. I learned this lesson when a little white girl half my size successfully defended herself from my attempt to hit her in my sophomore year of high school. I considered taking self-defense courses, but decided to verbally try to end my conflicts. If that couldn’t be done, I still had yet to learn to walk away from a fight. That would come from working stupid day jobs a term I snatched from Mr. Wally Pleasant.
My mother was willing to learn a new, a better way to handle any situation. She rarely maintained a grudge and she got herself away from people who worked her last nerve until she could cool off. If they really disrespected her, they couldn’t return to her life. Yet she spent a lot of time drinking and isolating from the world. By the time I realized my mother needed a best friend, she already had one in me.
She shared a lot of information most people are told not to share with their child. Then she did one better for me. My mother didn’t need me to make the choices she would make with that information, she only wanted me to do better than her. She allowed me the freedom to choose my own path. Once abuse as a punishment was removed from our situation, I accepted any punishment she was willing to give for my crimes.
So I committed what I believed were crimes. I respected authority-figures like the police. See, I read that motto on the side of every police car I’ve ever seen. Police men and women were supposed to “Protect & Serve”. I asked my mother who they were protecting and serving, she said their communities. Cool. Her bottom line? She refused to bail my stupid black ass out of jail. Oh yes, I would be considered stupid for getting caught in her eyes. Enter the title I believe my Goddess has given me, 'favorite sneaky little bitch'. Until I started having full-blown manic episodes, I’d never had a problem with the police. I could get away with any crime I was willing to commit, the caveat, the addendum, ‘Don’t Get Caught!’
I lived in a death penalty state, so no murder for me. I knew people could be raped in prison and after being molested, I had no desire to be raped. I was under the impression that if I went to jail or prison it could happen to me. So that limited the crimes I committed. With those as my choices, armed with the knowledge I’d already signed a contract with my mother that I was going to college, getting a job and paying rent, or getting the hell out of her house, I lived my life.
Ally stole an idea from me once while we were still in that living situation. I’d seen an outfit that I thought was extremely nice. I wanted it. I pictured myself in it and told Ally I wanted it. We were out shopping with her mother, Kate. It was my first interest in fashion. Ally decided to try it on, then her mother purchased the outfit for her. I still wanted the outfit. When I asked my mother for it when we got home she told me she couldn’t afford it. I was eleven years old at the time. Ally didn’t realize at the time that she’d stolen my outfit idea, because she was twelve years old.
Her mother bought her things she wanted. In my eyes EVERYTHING she wanted. My mother was frugal as hell, she didn’t want to pay that much for it. See what I didn’t realize at the time was my mother always used, 'she couldn’t afford it' any time I asked for something and filed it away as a possible gift idea for me. Since I didn’t realize this, I stole Ally’s allowance as a result. My mother up until that point didn't give me nearly as much money for an allowance as Kate gave to Ally.
Kate was really pissed and asked that I be punished, once I finally confessed to my crime that is. Oopsie! Look, I’m a writer for a reason. Lying was a life skill I used to get me out of punishments from my mother. I felt bad about it until I snatched 'creative editing' from the universe in college. Up until that point I couldn’t lie without giving it away. The very first time my mother caught me in a lie when I was four, she told me she was hurt by it. She’d hoped I’d never lie to her. Which is why I only used it if I feared the consequence, IE, no television, being ground, my freedom revoked at my mother’s discretion.
So, as to the Kate & Ally Fashion Debacle, well, Kate felt my punishment was too light. My mother raised my allowance to that of Ally’s weekly payment. My mother had been trying to teach me how to make due with whatever I had, but realized that she could afford to give me a better allowance than she’d given me. I was only learning to steal what I couldn’t afford.
I’d already had my first and forth stupid day jobs. A paper route and babysitting gigs. Ally stole one of my babysitting jobs once. She claimed she didn’t know it was already my family to babysit. I didn’t believe her at the time. I lied about stuff, I knew she lied about stuff, so yup, didn’t believe her. I felt she’d done it to hurt me. I was twelve at the time. We stopped living together soon after that incident.
So who was right in our situations? All of us. Who was wrong in our situations? All of us. We each learned to take responsibility for our own actions. If my mother were still alive today all four of us would still be friends/Family. Currently, Ally is just another SFAM (sista from another mother) and Kate is another strong black woman I can turn to when I need it.
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