Starting Delibertly Dope with my best friend has been a real adventure. We started it, because for years we both talked about writing a book about our lives and never moved forwarded with anything purposeful. Then we talked about our individual blogs, I think I kind of invited myself to participate in with her onContinue reading “What I Learned Year One”
Tag Archives: memory
Perfect, Imperfect Autumn Day
Have you ever had a day that was planned, but life found opportunities to be in the moment? Today was one of those days for me. My day was planned… Get the kids out for the bus without them killing each other, get dress, write today’s post, and go see the movie Harriet. First thingContinue reading “Perfect, Imperfect Autumn Day”
Keeva
The foster care system in this country is a necessary evil. Me and my siblings are blessed, we eventually were reunited and over time our mother regained custody and jumped through the hoops needed get us out of the system. Not all children are as fortunate. There are children who stay in the system untilContinue reading “Keeva”
My Perspective, Musically Inspired By India.Arie
I will say this, I’m hoping that sharing my story will help me feel free and fly.
Trash Bags
One night before bed, Ms. Brown came into the girls room with a large black trash bag. We looked around to see who was leaving. You have to understand, being a foster kid at Ms. Brown’s isn’t perfect, but it’s almost as close you can find in Chicago. The hope is to stay here until it’s time to go home.
Pocketed Change
After two weeks with Ms. Brown, I was informed that a social worker was picking me up in the morning, so I pack my bag. Packing my bags was basically a black trash bag stuffed with the clothes I had received over the last two weeks, my tooth brush and a brush that a neighborContinue reading “Pocketed Change”
Spare Change
I started by putting on the clothes from the previous day. And tried to brush my hair back into a braid with my fingers being my only grooming tool. Once fully dressed and somewhat presentable, I emerged from the room hoping to see a bathroom before anyone saw me. No such luck.
Fire!
Nights in the apartment produced voices that only my mother heard. She would fight against the voices with prayer and reading the Bible. She would sit us in a circle and read to us from the Bible. If our young eyes got heavy, we would be awaken by yells or a hit upside the head. Some nights my mother had to compete with our neighbor who would play Queen’s Another One Bites the Dust. I never recall meeting this neighbor, but my young impression was he was crazy. I was becoming fully exposed and recognized crazy.
M&Ms Part II
Riding on the train from New York to Chicago was pretty uneventful. My mother sat quietly for the majority of the way, I honestly think I was getting on her nerves with all my questions. When she would talk, she would mention the M&Ms and how she couldn’t wait to share them with me. ChicagoContinue reading “M&Ms Part II”
Price of Telling Your Story
I am blocked. It’s not a true writer’s block, more like I might not be ready to deal with the aftermath kinda block. The first eight years, I was able to romanticize the abandonment I felt as a result of both parents not being in my life. I skipped through the sexual molestation I experiencedContinue reading “Price of Telling Your Story”
Deliberately dope 