Growing Pains

                          By Antonia Elliott

This is for my husband, my children, my grandbaby and my only way of mending my heart living good is the best revenge. Thank you God for my children, my husband, my family, my life, for every breath you have allowed me to take although, there was a time I didn’t respect the breath you gave me. I am sorry for the foolishness but yet so thankful for those foolish moments because they are what made me the smart woman I am today. Without you Lord I could not exist and to not exist is to never know the beauty that life can offer. THANK YOU TO ALL MY HATERS ESPECIALLY THE ONES CLOSEST TO ME.

Off To A Bad Start

My parents the two most dysfunctional people I know are two people who should never have come together. People like them should never have been allowed to breed. According to my mother, October 30 1972, the night I was born, my father Fred was nowhere to be found because he was at home fucking the same two nurses he was fucking the night my mother arrived into America. He was supposed to be picking her up from the airport. Coming all the way from the Phillipines for him, pregnant with me, I could just imagine her fear being 19, new to America alone in a big country no family no friends and no husband at the airport waiting for her. I believe all she told me about him to be true because of his actions throughout my life. I understand her hatred for him now. Before I grew into the adult I am now I felt that same hatred for him. I just didn’t understand why I had to be the one they took their anger and hate out on when I would have loved them both unconditionally. I thank them for it now because I never could have loved my family as deep as I do if it weren’t for them.

My mother a young beautiful Filipina girl from the town of Manilla, met my father a thin quiet young black man from the Forte Green Projects. The only thing they had in common was marijuana and rock and roll. She was nineteen living with her boyfriend and him twenty- three stationed in her city they met at the local bar and it wasn’t love at first site by far. My father was originally trying to hook up with my aunt but my mother was the next best thing since my aunt was married to a G.I. herself and at the time didn’t like black men at all. I would later learn that it was a bad thing to be a Filipino and date blacks. Others would probably say he was good looking but from not knowing him and always fantasizing about what he looked like i made up in my mind and envisioned him to be the most beautiful man ever, he was my father everything to me everything about him was perfect, I was a little girl, his girl and nobody could tell me different. I use to ask my mom what he looked like, she would laugh and say “ha! He’s a nigger that son of- a- bitch, if you really want to know what he looks like look in the mirror.”  I have one picture of him I have kept since I was 19 and I’ve studied it over and over again. Always wondering how and why he could just walk away from me. I often wonder what my father went through as a child to be as cold as he is. My Grandfather didn’t seem like the type to have been abusive with my father or uncle. I have wondered if it was because my Grand-mother died young. Because of his selfishness I’ve been deprived of a father and a sister. Whenever I asked him why we couldn’t be close his response was always the same “I hate your mother and you remind me of her so much.” I was just a child, his child.

MOTHER DEAREST

 I can remember my childhood all the way back to the age of three. People always say that’s impossible, nobody can remember that far back. I sometimes I think it’s because there was so much pain involved. I’ll never know why I have such vivid memories i just know I remember and will never forget. I can remember always feeling afraid as a child. I have issues with being alone I often wondered if it was because of my mother. In my eyes my relationship with my mother was great in the beginning, back when I was a little girl I adored her. In my eyes she was perfect with her long flowing jet black hair, slanted eyes, tiny oriental frame. I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. I guess all kids think that about their mothers to me she couldn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t realize until I was older that she probably didn’t even notice I was there. When she did I was a burden to her so much I had to be shipped off again and again. She claimed she had to get herself together, it was just so hard to take care of me . She never even tried to learn how to comb my hair. I’m sporting the ugliest afros in all my pictures from my childhood the times I lived with her. I stopped blaming her for the things she did to me and didn’t do the older I got. Parental and everyday life experiences made me realize that I can’t move forward if I don’t accept what is and what was. I have learned to forgive them by using each traumatic experience I feel, as a lesson that God taught me at a young age so I could be as prepared as I was to care for and protect my own children. Although at times I know I was over bearing with them they know it was because I wanted them to have a better life than I had. I knew how to parent them by doing the exact opposite of my parents.

At different times throughout my adult life I made my mother pay for the things she said and did to me when I was a child. I pushed her away like she used to do me. It took me having my own children and maturing with age to realize I was only hurting myself. I hurt for so long it took me going to rehab and facing my fears to understand the reasons for my anger towards her. I cursed her every day for leaving me with abusive people holding onto the pain. How was she to know the people she thought would do a better job than her would hurt me as they did. How was she to know it would carry on through my life causing me to act out sexually and with drugs. I always felt as if she shouldn’t have left me. When I mention any of it she tells me why she was right and how she was suffering I never forget begging her and screaming crying not to let me go back. One of the most painful times was when I cried and pleaded for her not to take me back to my aunt’s house because my cousin tortured me every time there wasn’t an adult around. She was going to studio54 with her friends and my God parents. I finally told her about my cousin after holding it in for so long ”mommy please don’t make me go back there, T hurts me and she tells me if I tell she’s going to kill me please don’t make me go.” She looked at me with a disgusted look and said “Don’t ruin my night Jeannette” it crushed me so bad especially when she said she would slap me if I didn’t stop crying. My heart hurt but I still loved her and wanted to be with her. I swore to myself at a young age my children would never know that pain. As an adult I know now she did as much if not more damage than my abusers did, but I can forgive here now. Her mother was taken from her at a young age so she couldn’t know the basics of being a mother when she didn’t have one. I didn’t have one either but I knew how to love. I find myself making up excuses for her behavior thinking maybe this time will be different I know it could never be. It is what it is.

My mother and I were fine until my father called one day.  We had been staying in Fort Green Brooklyn with his father my grandpa Ozzie. Fred thought it best mom and I move from Belleville and go stay with Grandpa so we could be out of his hair I believe. He told her “go stay with my Dad and I will come soon to be with you two.” Her being so gullible she believed it. Out of nowhere one day he calls her to come and be with him, he’ll send a plane ticket, “leave the baby with my dad and come quickly.” “I just need to see you I miss you baby.” When she arrived back in Chicago he picks her up only to take her to his lawyer’s office who has divorce papers drawn up for her to sign.  She always looks so sad when she tells me that story. It hurts me to think of how much she must have loved him and how he took advantage of the fact that she did. I hated him for hurting her like that. I have to wonder though did he get treated the same way I did for him to do that to her so easily. Did he get pleasure out of doing us the way he did. He divorced her for good right then and there. She was left at the lawyer’s office with no money to get back home to Brooklyn. He left her there with no way to get back to me is how she tells it. Mom ended up marrying a man named Steve. He could help her get me back. “That’s the only reason I married him “she’d say years later. She hadn’t come back for me for a whole year so she was told to do it legally and they called it a kidnapping. I often wonder what would of happened to me if she would have left me there with my grandfather. The woman, my aunt my grand-fathers sister was the person my grandfather gave me to after my mother left. I met the woman whom was my great aunt later when I went to stay with my aunt J during my pregnancy. She was so happy to see me. She told me she wished she would of kept me and was sorry for the things my mother put me through. I would have been well taken care of and protected .I wouldn’t be pregnant at such a young age. “You would have turned like all five of my kids whom all became doctors and lawyers” she said.  My mother would tell me “you should be glad I got you from them projects you would have been a drug addict like all those niggers over there.” My mother was the first person to teach me about drugs I always laugh when I think of how she would say it in such a matter of fact that my father’s side of the family was such junkies and would corrupt me, like she was the best role model for me. YEAH THAT PICTURE OF HER CRAWLING ALL OVER

THE PLUSH CARPET IN OUR STATEN ISLAND HOUSE LOOKING FOR A COCAINE ROCK SHE

DROPPED WOULD NEVER LEAVE MY MIND AND THE SIGHT OF MY STEP DAD DANNY STANDING

IN THE BASEMENT KITCHEN TEACHING ME HOW TO COOK FREEBASE IS FOREVER IMPRINTED IN

MY MIND. She blew marijuana smoke in my face at the age of six. My aunts were in from out of town and they were all smoking a joint together when one of them said “let’s get her high” I almost choked to death feeling sick and dizzy they all were worried when I started crying and fell asleep. Mom also gave me my first Xanax at the age of 24 I tried to talk to her about my problems and anxieties about driving. She went in her purse and pulled out a blue pill “here, try this.” I did and it led to me having a 20 pill a day habit. That was the one times in my life I could do anything. I wasn’t afraid of anything but she told me I think you’re hooked you need to stop I won’t give you anymore. I didn’t know you could have convulsion, go into a coma along with all the other problems you have when you just stop taking them. She knew though. I had to go to my family doctor and confess after losing my mind for a week straight losing weight, having the worst panic attacks and losing my hair. My husband was so upset with my mother and I. I was so ashamed of myself. That was the one times in my life I felt I could do anything. I wasn’t afraid of anything but she told me “I think you’re hooked you need to stop! I won’t give you anymore” at the time I was making good money with my escort service so I would give her the money to buy the pills. I always wonder if she stopped so she could see me suffer. The next time she would give me a pill was the day a day talked to Fred. I thought I’d call him on his birthday to say Happy Birthday and he was so unhappy to hear from me He tried to convince me my mother was a whore in the Phillipines so she couldn’t possibly know who my father was. He hurt me so bad that day my mother thought I needed a pain pill to numb the pain. That was where that addiction began. I accept that she wasn’t a good mother because I don’t have to be a good daughter I just need to be a good mother to my children and wife to my husband. I don’t need to feel loved by my mother I am only hurting myself by continuously falling back into the false relationship I fantasize about for us. I know longer want to be a part of the games she plays. I’ve decided to move on and begin living. Whatever happens will happen. What’s going to be is going to be. I came to the conclusion people are fucked up not all people but a lot of people I’m one of them because my mother is one But the most important thing I’ve come to realize is I can change me. When she realizes she is one and becomes tired of the bullshit she can then make that change. I will always love them regardless. My parents the people who made me without thought. God has taught me to love. I was left to figure things out on my own, no child deserves that. All children need is love, attention, guidance, structure but most of all security and the need to feel safe. Those things were taught to me by my husband and my children.

I remember being three when I went the court awarded me to her and I had to go live with her and my new family. I met my stepbrother Robbie who was 6 months old. He was my mother and Steve’s son, my brother they produced while they were waiting on me. We lived in Belleville since mom met Steve there when Fred left her he also lived in the area too. It was a cozy but plain 2 bedroom apt on the base. I can remember it like yesterday I would play in a green apple tree everyday located right outside our door. Things were ok until Steve and my mother started began arguing a lot. I remember him calling her a whore and telling her nasty things. One time he slapped her and tore her clothes up it was the first time I had ever seen that kind of fighting. Even as a child I knew it must have had something to do with Fred being over the house. It just felt wrong every time I saw him there and was sent outside to play. I remember not knowing him too well at the time I didn’t even know he was my father. I wasn’t ever happy to see him to me he was just a man that was coming to my father Steve’s house when he wasn’t home. They would listen to music together smoke marijuana and then they would go to the bedroom and close the door. At first the noises scared me but when I would hear the noises followed by the I love you from each one of them. I knew the noises weren’t a bad thing. Even at my young age they disturbed me. My mother showed me who she was in my short stay there. I remember being extremely bored all the time one time taking mothers jewelry box filled with jewelry and burying it all over the front yard. I asked her if I could play with it but she was lethargic and said yes. When she woke up and realized what I had done she made me look everywhere for it I only found a few pieces and she whipped me so bad I couldn’t sit down for hours.  Another time I was outside riding my flinstone tricycle and a tall girl stood in front of me blocking my path.  “I want your bike!” she said   “you can’t have it” I said trying to be brave but scared to death I was 3 she had to be about 7.  I stood up to pick up my bike to turn it the other way to leave and she punched me so hard in the stomach I couldn’t breathe. I saw stars and then fell, I began to cry. She rode off on my bike leaving me alone to struggle for air, I couldn’t breathe for what seemed forever I didn’t even care about my bike anymore. She had to of been eight or nine years old.  I immediately ran in the house “Mommy help me! this big girl took my bike and she punched me in the stomach you have to get it mommy!” “Leave me alone Jeannette I’m trying to take a shit!”she said with her cigarette dangling from her lips with both eyes closed sitting on the toilet. I was so sad she didn’t stick up for me and then I was angry. I remember how much anger I had in me that day I was mad and decided nothing like that would ever happen to me again. At age 3 I decided I would never let anyone hurt me again; My mother and Steve continued to fight daily and so did I . I protected myself from other children by biting the shit out of them. I was afraid of being punched again. To this day I never got punched in my stomach again. If I didn’t get my way or felt bullied I bit that person. Parents started coming to the house complaining about me threatening my mother saying they would file a lawsuit. I was spanked for it but i still did it. They figured that I would stop if they put hot sauce on my lollipops but I learned how to eat the hot sauce off and kept on biting the kids in the neighborhood. My next bad beating came after I set the kitchen on fire. Mom was asleep and I was so hungry I figured I could make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the toaster. The toaster caught fire and I got my ass kicked after the firemen left. My only freedom was playing on my apple tree. One day while outside playing on the tree I was hungry and tired of eating apples I wanted to eat some marshmallows and candy . I walked three long city blocks to the nearest convenience store. Crossing every street like I had done it before, looking both ways waiting for the the light to turn green. I made it to the store and began to shop.  I put a bag of marshmallows and some candy on the counter and the clerk said “hello little girl” are you sure your supposed to be in here?” I said “Yes I need some things my mom told me to get and continued shopping.” After finding everything I needed the clerk rang everything up and gave me the total. I told him I needed a bag to bring the stuff home and I would tell my mom to come give him money. “I’m sorry little girl but you have to ask your mom to give you the money first and then you can have your stuff, you’ll have to go now, do you know your way home?” Yes I live over there I said pointing towards my house O.K. bye I said walking out of the store feeling disappointed and hungry headed for home crossing each street carefully again. A police officer walked towards me then approached me. “Antonia? Are you Antonia?“ “Yes” I said “Your mother is looking for you, you’ll have to come with me.  How did you get to the store?” Did someone take you here?” he asked concerned . “I walked there “I said answering him. “By yourself?” looking shocked this time “Yes by myself!” I said starting to worry my mother might beat me. We arrived at the house mom thanked the officer and said she would keep a better eye on me. They left and the ass whooping began. Mom told Steve about it that night and then their usual arguing began. There was more yelling and fighting than the previous nights and then a loud slap. Steve picked up the bags he packed while arguing scooped up Robbie and left slamming the door behind him shattering the glass on the door.  I didn’t see Robbie again until he came looking for mother on his 21st birthday. At the time I thought it was because of my trip to the store but it was all over her cheating with Fred, I later found out.

She ended up moving from place to place dragging me with her leaving me with different friends while she did her thing.  I remember her always being happy she never seemed sad to me. Her face was always made up perfectly hair past her waist always smoking a cigarette or joint Back then she had a tiny frame not like she is now. The pictures from that period of my life show me as being happy because I think I was happy until I was 4. I was my mother’s only child it didn’t matter then that she didn’t know how to comb my hair nor did she care to learn how she was too busy with herself and I was just happy to be with her. She told me a story about an old car she use to have and how it wasn’t safe the doors would fly open if you hit a bump I didn’t understand why she was telling me the story until she got to the part about me . My mother and her friend Tessie were riding over the bridge one day and Tessie happened to hit a bump ,my door flew open, I flew out the car in my seat down an overpass hill She always laughs when she tells it to me so it makes me wonder about many things. I have a middle finger that was severed somehow as a baby when I asked about it I was told two different stories .I was passed around after she decided it was too hard to take care of me .She needed to save money so she could get a place for me and her to live. We lived in a railroad apartment in Ridgewood Queens. She did the best she could. I remember she loved going to the club every weekend Studio 54 was a must I was six then and she had me living with my aunt Jenny. As much as I loved my aunt I hated living with her because of the abuse by my cousin. I would cry beg and plead with my mother to let me stay home I was so crushed when I finally told her what my cousin was doing to me and she slapped my face and told me not to mess her night up . I knew then I couldn’t tell her anything or count on her to protect me she got me to come live with her when I was seven I moved into her railroad apartment in Ridgewood Queens. It was different living with my mother she slept most of the time she taught me how to wake myself up in the morning so I could get ready for school and go to the deli and buy my lunch every morning. I remember the teachers at St Matthias scared me I always was afraid of the Catholic Church I never know why to this day it’s just a bad feeling I get. I met kids in the neighborhood let kids in while my mom wasn’t home just so I wouldn’t be alone. I hired my own babysitter and got my ass tore up when it was time for her to collect her pay. I had dodged her for days and she eventually came with her mother to collect and have words with mom. My God Parents Violet and Carlos lived next door and my mother’s good friend Betty and her husband Mike lived upstairs and our landlord Nick and his wife Sophia lived next door to them so I could only get away with so much. Nick made sure he informed my mother of everything. I had pneumonia for a while that was the most my mother ever took care of me. I remember being very ill and my mother putting me in an ice cold bath with alcohol to bring down the fever. It’s funny how doctors now don’t advise doing that because it could put a child into shock. My mother didn’t have a car back then so we walked everywhere I was so sick I couldn’t walk so she carried me to the doctor holding me tight with every step. The shots were so painful all of them in my ass. It seemed like it took months for me to get over it. I remember they aired the movie Roots that week I was sick and I also got to watch Cell block H with my mom. I was so sick she didn’t even care if I watched Benny Hill. I learned a lot about my mother while I was sick as I started to get better I would be home all day alone while she went to work. She would come home sometimes with nothing to eat. I would tell her I was hungry and she would say we were going to have some bone soup. The ingredients in bone soup are water and any bones out of the freezer that were saved from a previous dinner. The bones are boiled on high until the marrow in the bones become soft. Bone soup over rice ,that was our dinner because my mother had no money. As an adult I later brought it up to my mother “Mommy remember when we use to eat bone soup because we didn’t have money?” Oh yeah I remember the bone soup we didn’t eat it because we were poor I always had money we ate it because I was too fucked up to go shopping for food hahaha laughing like a witch, So you mean all the times that you laid on the couch and made me rub your hair and play Cruisin by Smokey Robinson over and over again you were high? We weren’t poor and you weren’t sick? No Tonia silly she said laughing me and my husband looking at each other with shock on our faces at my mother’s insensitivity. It wasn’t even a year before her friend Betty introduced my mother to My stepfather whom she is married to now. The first night I met him he was so nice and kind to me I loved him from day one he asked me what kind of toys I liked I told him I wanted one of those klick klackers it was like a paddle with two balls on the bottom that you tried to hit together to make the klick klack sound he bought it for me the second day he dated my mother. He came the next night and asked me if I would like for him to be my father I told him yes I would like that he told me I would have my own room a brother and a house. I would have a canopy bed and I could paint my room pink. He didn’t buy the canopy bed but he gave me everything else I wanted. He loved me because he loved my mother. She needed the security he gave to her. She had so many losers in her life that she was lucky to find him. I accept that I don’t have to be a good daughter I just need to be a good mother to my children and wife to my husband. I don’t need to feel loved by my mother I am only hurting myself by continuously falling back into the false relationship I fantasize about for us. I know longer want to be a part of the games she plays. I’ve decided to move on and begin living. Whatever happens will happen. What’s going to be is going to be. I came to the conclusion people are fucked up not all people but a lot of people I’m one of them because my mother is one But the most important thing I’ve come to realize is I can change me. When she realizes she is one and becomes tired of the bullshit she can then make that change. I will love them regardless my two parents the people who made me without thought. God has taught me to love. They left me to figure things out on my own, no child deserves that. All children need love, attention, guidance, structure but most of all security the need to feel safe. Those things were taught to me by my husband and my children.

A Stand up Kind of Guy         

         I use to wish my uncle O, my father’s brother, was my father. He had always treated me like a princess and because I was Fred’s daughter he would tell everyone proudly “this is Fred’s daughter” whenever I was in Fort Green and we walked in the neighborhood together. I loved him so much and enjoyed our walks and talks together. Because of my father wanting to attend his funeral without me being there I wasn’t able to go my Uncle’s funeral. I wasn’t told of his passing until a few months after he died. I received the news in a letter my aunt purposely sent it late.  When I asked why I wasn’t told sooner I found out it was at my father’s request. I talk to Uncle O every day in my prayers and I know that he has my back because we all have guardian angels and I know unlike my father he would watch out for me in death as he did in life. I miss him every day. He was the closest thing I had to a father figure besides my step-father and father in-law, TB III, and John.

     Uncle O had a heroin problem.  When they found him he was dead with a needle in his arm and until this day he has unexplained death on his death certificate. To this day I still have trouble with his passing but you’re not supposed to get death. I just wish I could have been there to pay my respects. My father didn’t realize what he did by taking that closure away from me. I didn’t deserve it. My mother was sad about it while reminiscing on how he used to be her little dope finder for a couple dollars.  He and my mother had a bad drug problem which always kept them in touch with each other. I guess it’s where my addiction came from, they say addiction is genetic and in my family there are a lot of addicts on both sides.

I often wonder what my father went through as a child to be as cold as he is maybe it was because his mother died young like my mothers. My Grandfather didn’t seem like the type to have been abusive to my father or uncle. Because of him I’ve been deprived of a father and a sister. I have a sister from Fred but I haven’t had the pleasure to see her again since I lived with him at the age of four.  I tried to find my sister one day and was lucky to find her mother on yahoo people search. I tried to be extra sweet almost kissing her ass in hopes that she would tell her I called looking for her. I left my info knowing in my heart there was no way she would relay it. She was abusive to me when I lived with my father and her for that short period of time. As a matter of fact I was a hundred percent sure she didn’t pass my message on to my sister because of how her attitude changed once she realized it was me. The conversation went like this “Hello Ruth?  This is Jeannette, Jeannette Coleman” then a long pause.

         “Oh Ohhhh hello” Pause. Sounding shocked and then unhappy to hear from me “How did you find my number?”

       “I found it through some court papers my mom had I hope you don’t mind but I was calling because I wanted to know if there was any way I could meet my sister or maybe you can give her my number and she can call me so we could talk by phone. I’d really like that and plus she has a nephew and four nieces I would like her to meet. So if you could please do, that I would really appreciate it.  Then dead silence for about a very long minute.

         “Sure I’ll pass it on to her but I must go now. You take care of yourself Jeannette.”  Sounding like that was going to be the last time we would speak to one another. Then a click and that was that. My heart was pounding with nervousness at first, next pain, and then the tears. I was used to it.            I think about her every day. I feel incomplete because I don’t know her I don’t even have a clue as to what she looks like. I could sit next to her one day and even share a conversation and still wouldn’t know it was her. I wonder if she even knows about me. Does she look like me? Is she white, black, big lips, little lips, is she married, have any children. Does she speak to our father? Does she know I tried to contact her? If Ruth didn’t tell her I called, has Allie my father’s wife ever told her that I asked about her and said I wanted to meet her. I know she had been in contact with him because Allie let me know that she wanted to invite him to her wedding No matter what she was told I loved her the year we spent together and I love her more now. When we spent our one year together she was all I had when I lived with my father. She was just a baby but her smile would bring me so much happiness. She was my little sister.

. After Steve and Moms breakup my rollercoaster ride began. I was sent to live with my aunts, and I mean all of them one by one. One after another they all loved and cared for me the best they could. Through each one I learned something different but most of all they taught me what family is about. I help others the way they helped me. Even as a little girl I knew they are were doing a great thing by taking me in and caring for me. In turn I respected, obeyed and always tried to stay on my best behavior. I never understood how my mother’s sisters could come out so loving and caring the complete opposite of my mother, in my eyes. My aunts always blame it on my mother not having a mother from a young age. That never made sense to me because they went without a mother too. My mom was made out of something else. I was passed around until I was seven.

My mother was abusive and hateful I use to tell myself she hated me because of my father I later realized it was because of him and the drugs.  When she finally got me at the age of seven, she and her husband were drug dealers as well as users which led to many men in and out of our house paying the wrong kind of attention to me.  I didn’t feel as if I had anyone. I became very suicidal the longer I lived with her. I would take bottles of Tylenol to try and kill myself. I began to hate my mother my step-father my life.

  I spent many days in and out of men’s beds because they told me I was beautiful and I thought that they cared for me. Most of them were customers of my mom and step fathers pretending to be their friend. One would come over to eat dinner, the whole time touching me under the table or sending me little notes asking me to meet up later. One night I woke up to another guy standing in my door just staring at me. My mother walked up behind him and said you can’t go in that room, he asked her why grabbing his dick while talking to her she was so high she didn’t say anything she just closed the door back.

         I lived in an all white neighborhood and was the only mixed child in the neighborhood. A day didn’t go by that I wasn’t called a nigger by the kids in the neighborhood and then I’d come home and because my mom was coming down off of her drugs or just because she’d call me a whore and a nigger. My mother is Filipina and since my father tricked her into having a divorce she swore she hated black people.  I was the only one though that heard her hatred, of course. I remember it like it was yesterday “You like your aunt jenny so much huh? You want to go stay there with your nigger family in the jungle over there in queens huh? That’s how it started I was eight at the time . It then went to her calling me a nigger every time she got mad at me. She didn’t hesitate to call my step brother Warren a chink. He and I went through a lot of the same things but we both dealt with it differently. I heard my stepfather say the word Nigger before. My mother and him were arguing because Rose overheard my mother calling Warren a chink and told Danny. Danny brought mom into the room and I overheard him saying How would you like it if I called YOUR daughter a NIGGER? Mom said go ahead I say it all the time, with that she walked out of the room screaming and tell the old lady downstairs to mind her business before I call her names and throw her ass out of here. He knew she meant it and the was the end of the argument with mom winning like usual. Danny always did lose his balls when dealing with her. “What I say goes!” she would always say. The old people Danny’s parents lived downstairs in the basement they hated me too and never let me think different.   She had black friends who didn’t know they were like that and if they did, or they didn’t care because they needed their drugs. Most of the time she acted like she was the mother of the year. By the time I was 11, I was delivering drugs to doctors from Mt. Sinai, madams and pimps that lived on Park Avenue, wherever my mom told me to go I went. Delivering eight balls, ounces and whatever else they ordered. My mom had a shop on 96th and Lexington called Pampered Nails.  Many actresses, doctors, doctors’ wives, all types would come to get their waxes, pedicures and facials.   It was a full service salon literally.

         She also glamorized prostitution which would later play a very important role in my life.  My mom hooked with the best of them and did nails for the models who were big in the disco days.  There were so many stories: Jerri Hall, Janice Dickinson, The Judges, Studio 54, the bath houses, the drugs  she can tell all that in her own book.  I was taught about the world by some of the very best at a very young age. 

         By the time I was 14  I was ready to go and leave because the pain was too much for me to take.  I felt worthless and very unloved. I was very promiscuous at the time and all the perverts could smell me coming and jumped right in to help me fuck up what she missed.   I had left three times before and always ended up with my Aunt Jenny.  She didn’t judge me, hurt me or disown me in anyway.  She made me feel like I belonged but I could never live there my mother wouldn’t let me. You’re my daughter im not gonna let you live around all those niggers so you can end up having a bunch of kids and living in the projects. When I explained to her that I felt like I belonged  there because no one would make fun of me or call me a nigger. She told me I just wanted to live with my aunt so I could be a whore like my aunt. She hated my father’s side of the family.  My father Fred has never been a part of my life.  We tried a few times to talk and have some type of relationship but I think I couldn’t get it back; the feeling a daughter is supposed to have for her father.  He let me withdraw too far even if he were to try now it could never happen.  It’s his fault. I tried all my life.

The Absent Father

 My earliest memory of my father was when I went to live with him and my wicked stepmother.  That was around the time I was molested for the first time.[BJG2]   I always felt he hated me because of my mother he had always made that clear.  My father, Fred Coleman, has never been a part of my life.  We tried a few times to talk and have some type of relationship but I think I can’t get it back, that feeling a daughter is suppose to have for her father.  He let me withdraw too far.  It’s his fault; I tried all my life ,wasting too much time.

         My father, in my eyes, was always a cold bastard.  He was made out to be a monster by my mother from a young age.  I never believed her.  I always thought that she was lying to me and that he would just show up one day and come and get me.  I used to pray, wait and sometimes even express it out loud to my mother:  “He’s coming to get me and when he does I’m gonna tell him everything that you’ve done to me.”

         My mother use to just laugh and say you don’t understand now but when you get older you will truly understand.”  I understand what she meant now.

         On my 23rd birthday I thought I could just call my father and see if he remembered his own daughter’s birthday and also tell him how I was feeling, what was on my mind.  I got optimistic before every birthday and holiday.  I learned how to shut that feeling down so I could avoid the pain.  He never remembered and he was never happy to hear from me.  I got that around my 26th birthday for the last time and decided I wasn’t going to put myself through any of his shit anymore.  I wasn’t going to let him have any more of me to stomp on.

         At some point I realized that he hated me all this time because he hated my mother and since the day I realized that I tried to be the opposite of what she is.   My relationship with my mother,  now that’s a completely different story.  At least with my father absent I could dream, wish, hope.  Because I didn’t know him I could make him into who I wanted him to be, although from a young age I knew he was the piece of shit my mom told me about.  From having children I learned that mothers don’t usually lie about their babies’ daddies and blackball them unless they are truly a piece of shit or the mother is a big liar and a piece of shit herself.  But for the most part I don’t think they lie. I never forget the last conversation I had with my father.  I was in the mall when he called in the middle of me trying on clothes.  He caught me off guard because he had never called me first so when the caller ID said Fred Coleman I answered right away.

         “Hello.”

         He said, “Hi!”

          I said, “How are you?”

         “I’m ok.  How are you.”

         I replied, “I’m ok.  Wow I am really shocked to be hearing from you.  In all my 26 years this is the first time you called me.  Wow you made my day.”

         After that he says, “Jeannette I need to talk to you.  My Psychiatrist says I’m going through post traumatic stress disorder and he says I need to face my past and make amends with everyone I hurt or think I’ve hurt.  See a lot of things have happened to me that you don’t understand.”

         And all in an instance I felt my father trying to get forgiveness and acceptance from me for what I went through.  I couldn’t bear to hear him out.  I hung up and that was the last I tried to contact him until I was encouraged by my boss John to write my father.

         Working for John taught me a lot more about life and I have learned a lot more about people.  A few months back he told me I should write my father, give him another chance.  He only felt so strong about it because he had a long lost daughter that he found after he won the money from the tobacco lawsuit.  As soon as he won and all the money was deposited, he decided to write his Last Will and Testament.  After writing it, he sent a letter to his daughter Laura explaining himself including in the letter how much she would inherit if he died.  His daughter, Laura, responded back with she was happy with her life and wanted to be left alone.  When he told me about it I wondered what he had done for her mother to make him out to be such a monster.  I wondered but I at the same time completely understood how she felt.  So I decided to write to my father and the letter went like this:

Dear Dad,

Let me start by saying that I hope you and your family are in good health and all is well in your life.  I found your address by looking it up online.  I know you probably mind but lately I find myself wondering about you and how you are.  I’m not in need of anything at all.  I just wanted to share some things with you and hopefully you will find yourself wanting to let me in and share your life with me.  It’s ok if you don’t.  This will be the only letter.  Don’t worry but I have also sent some pictures of me and my family for you to see and have just in case we meet one day you’ll know who everyone is and if we never meet at least you’ll know who your grandkids are.   I’m 33 now and I have been married to my husband Delbert for 13 years.  I just recently had a little girl.  Her name is Mikayla Anise.  She’s 6 months now.  My oldest, Keith, is 17.  My oldest daughter Olivia is 15, my daughter Janica who is my husband’s cousin has been with me since she was 5. She came to us through my husband’s mom who is now passed away. We have legal custody of her.  Next is my 10 year old daughter Ashley and then there’s my 9 year old daughter Kianna.  Keith is a B student. He wants to study culinary arts and real estate.  He works at Subway and is on the school football team.  He was driving but he had a little fender bender and lied about it so he has to save up for his insurance and then he can drive.  He’s a good boy otherwise he just makes some silly choices sometimes.  Olivia is a beautiful young lady.  She is an A student.  She wants to be a psychiatrist.  She’s on the girls’ football team.  She’s smart, polite but can have the attitude like little girls do but never gets out of hand with it.  She’s more of a homebody, not fast either.  Olivia loves music and acting.  Janica is also an A student in all honors classes.  As well as Olivia she wants to be a pediatrician.  She’s an artist, singer, plays the violin.  She’s just good at everything but the simple things.  Ashley has a little trouble in school so we have her in tutoring.  She’s coming along fine.  She’s the cute one that gets all the attention but when she lets it get out of hand I have to give out butt whippings.  She dislikes that more than she like the attention but she will do anything for you and she sings like a bird when she isn’t acting shy.  She’s also a super fast runner.  Now Kianna is unlike any of my other children.  She is into kung fu, Japanese anime, Vin Diesel movies, video games and she wouldn’t move off the couch ever if she didn’t have to.  She is the brains.  She is a straight A student and wants to be a plastic surgeon when she grows up. She reads 3 books a week, sometimes more.  The rest of them read 1 or more a week.  All my kids are beautiful.  They all say “Yes ma’am, yes sir.”  People always compliment me for them being so well behaved no matter where we are.  I’m proud of them.  They are what gets me through every day.  My husband he and his partner paint houses.  He does well for us.  We just recently lost his Dad who we were very close to.  Not a day goes by that I don’t think about him.  Since my husband and I were 19, he kept our freezer full.  He took care of our family.  We were there with him till the very end.  We lost him and my husband’s aunt and grandmother within a 2 year period.  You lose so much sometimes that it make you numb for a while.  I’ve been but it’s time to move on. I’ve learned how to do that too that’s why there are no hard feelings if you don’t want anything to come of this.  No matter what to me you’re my father.  I use to hate you and my mother for a long time but I realize now with age that the things you think are so horrible (although my life was until I learned to forgive and move on) are actually a blessing.  Had I not had the life I had I wouldn’t have been good to my children and they show me every day that I’m doing the right thing so my happiness comes from that.  Sorry if I get off subject but there are so many things I want to say to you but mostly I want you to know that I’ll never hate you and that I hope you don’t hate me. I am not my mother.  I’ve spent most of my life hating myself because I thought you hated me for being like her and spend everyday of my life doing the opposite of what she does.  She’s not the nicest person in the world.  She talks a lot of shit she has turned her back on me many times but the older I get the more I realize people are gonna be the way they are.  She never had a mother so I accept that she was the way she was because of that reason and although I don’t see her much I love and respect her when I do because I know she did what she could.  I am now working for an elderly man who is a retired broadcaster.  He won a lawsuit against Phillip Morris and is now writing a book.  I handle everything for him except bathing or wiping his behind.  I am writing a book and learning about film by being around him.  He has a film crew doing a documentary on him and he is doing a documentary on Dr. Ferdie Pacheco.  It’s all pretty neat stuff.  It was a blessing to meet him.  I’ve learned a lot.  He gets grouchy sometimes but for the most part he has a big heart.   People are always coming at him for money.  His friend has come down from Iowa to stay for a few months and my boss has decided to help me start up a sandwich shop.  His friend is supervising me because he has restaurant experience.  It is something for me to be able to keep my girls working and close to me.  Plus the location -- I’m trying to find a place at where I feel pretty good.  Well I don’t want to bore you with any more of my life but once I again I hope you are doing good.  Ali, too.  My phone number is 813-555-2128 .  I live in Tampa still right by the Bucs stadium in case you’re ever in the area. J I love you Daddy.

Love Jeannette

Both letters came back.  I don't know if he returned them or if he just didn't live there anymore.  There's no telling.  I am over that.  I wished things could have been different between us but I’m content thinking that I probably was better off not knowing him.  He probably would have done as much damage if not more than my mother.

THE BABYSITTER

The first person to ever abuse me was a 16 year old male babysitter my step mother hired to take care of me during my stay with my father Fred I never understood why Ruth would hire two young twin bothers to baby sit two little girls   it took me a while to tell anyone about it I didn’t even understand what had happened to me until I got older I always remembered it because It hurt .Throughout my life I have had flashes  of it that still  haunt me  It plays in my head as if it happened yesterday   The babysitter never penetrated me he just sat me on top of him and rocked my hips back and for on top of his member that was covered by jean material I remember it burned so bad because I had fell on my see saw the day before and bruised my clitoris  he swayed me back and forth a few strokes and then made a  serious face and pulled me off of him lay me down and told me to take my nap and exited the room only to return to his brother and 2 girlfriends outside  and participate in their conversation like nothing ever happened.

MY COUSIN

My Cousin was someone I was deathly afraid of. I was sent to live with her mom my father’s sister, and my two cousins. They all made me feel welcomed, even her at first. As soon as my aunt left the house I would catch hell. My very first memory of her doing something mean to me was when I was 6 and I had only been living with my aunt for a couple of days when we went to spend the weekend at my Grandfather’s house.  We were allowed to play in the hallway when it was too late or dark to play outside   My cousin said hey lets go play hide and seek on the staircase  wanting to be liked by my cousin i was quick game and followed along  The moment we get into the staircase she started looking for something going up stair after stair until she finally found what she was looking for here hold this she said handing me a little cigarette bud someone had smoked almost all the way to the filter she starts feeling her pants for something and out of her pocket she produces a book of matches  watch this watch and she lit the cigarette while it was between my fingers Blew the match out quickly ran down the step and back into my Grandfather’s house  her voice trailing through the whole project building  Grandpa! Jeannette’s in the hallway smoking   not more than a half of second later Grandpa calls me him sounding like he was on a loud speaker Get your butt in here Jeannette I quickly threw the cigarette down put it out and walked very slowly to the house as soon as I entered Grandpa was standing to the door and T behind him with an evil grin. I remember thinking how could she do this to me? I want her to like me and she’s lying about me. I was hoping my grandfather believed me but she at age 9 she was very intelligent and manipulative plus she always was his favorite grandchild. “Smell her fingers she was using her right hand, I saw her grandpa” she said “Come here and...............