Born in circumstances, working towards greatness

Chapter 1: My real family

Growing up I never fully understood what the word “adopted” meant. You would think I had a
great deal of knowledge of the strange word since it was always said so casually around me
and to me. “Grandma is our real grandma and she’s just your adopted grandma”. Or the
infamous line, “Did you know your mom and uncle were adopted into this family which means,
we’re not your​ real ​family.” Can you imagine how a fragile seven year old felt hearing this? How
it tore her into shreds to hear those words come from the same cousins, uncles, and aunts she
thought of as her own? It shattered her tiny heart. I am she. As I got older, mama felt more
comfortable with sharing her stories about what really occurred in grandma’s house on Central.
One time my uncles and aunties hung her by the collar of her shirt while she dangled from the
ceiling fan. Or how they would all gain up against her and Uncle Peanut about almost any and
everything. They made them feel excluded and alone. Hearing the horror stories scared me.
Despite it all the lies, the cruel treatment, the unfairness, I thought of them as my real family.
Since in reality they were my only extended family. My dad and his family lived in Iowa so it was
almost rare when I saw them. When I was younger, I used to visit my dad and family every
summer for the entire break. But, as I got older the more distant they seemed. I stopped going
to visit in the summer and they stopped asking me to come. They slowly stopped calling and
texting so I stopped wondering. I used to always choose the reason my family became distant
was because my dad and stepmom had their own kids. They no longer needed to baby me or
pay attention to me since after all they had everything they needed right in front of them, a child
they both shared. Don’t get my wrong I did and still do cherish my mother’s love and the family
love that I got in my home. But I couldn’t figure why I was so fascinated with having a big family.
I wanted cousins, aunts, and uncles. I wanted it all. Call me selfish. It took so long to finally
realize that no matter how big or small my family was, they were my family. I didn’t have to put
up with fake love or a fake connection. I love my family. All of my family with no doubt but I
learned that it is possible to love one’s family from distant. You can love someone to death but
hate the person they are. There is always room for loving someone but not liking them in my life.

Chapter 2: Outwest
We all live in divisions. We are divided by many things from our race to our economic class.
Here in Chicago, our city is divided mainly by which side of the city we represent and come
from. There’s over East, up North, outwest, and out south. I’m from outwest or someone outside
of Chicago would say the west side. I was born and raised in the Austin community. The things I
had to see at such a young age still surprises to this day. Imagine being too afraid to walk to the
corner store to buy four bags of hot chips for a dollar. Afraid to get robbed. Afraid to get shot. Or
even afraid to be looked at by older men standing on the corners. Having to look back every few
seconds whether it was dark outside or light. Remember to always keep one earphone out my
ear in order to be able to hear if someone wanted to sneak up on me. Maybe that was just how
Chicago was and is. We lived right in the center of it. The red two story house. 1638. One end of
the block was cut off by a huge u as that’s what all the kids on the block called it. That turned
the street into a one way. Forced cars to turn around. There were these yellow tall stones built
into the ground. I doubt we were supposed to play on them. To us, they was our mini
playground. We couldn’t go to Lafoettte park because it was too dangerous. We used to have
competitions and bets to see who could jump the highest over them. I remember when my
friend, Dersisa, wanted to impress the boys on the block and tried to jump over the highest
stone. She was running. For a split second, we all thought she was going to be the first girl to
get over it. She jumped as high as she could. I looked away. At first the block was filled with
shouts. Then shouts turned into laughter. I open my eyes. Her panties were caught stuck on a
needle located on the side of stone. I laughed.

The day we moved I was mixed with different emotions. I was happy to be moving into a better
neighborhood of course. As expected, I was a bit sad to not being able to see my neighborhood
friends anymore. Miss those summer days of kids ringing my mama’s doorbell and asking could
my sister and I go outside to play. Staying outside and playing tag, hide and go seek, or running
to other blocks and playing ding dong ditch. Or even the more simple days of sitting on one of
our porches and playing truth or dare and would you rather. Days when the orange and white
ice cream would ride down the block and stop for ten minutes to give everyone a chance to buy
ice cream. I always bought a plain strawberry cone. Of course I was going to miss it all. But, the
one thing I felt the most drawn to was my actual neighborhood. I was going to miss being apart
of my community. Despite the stereotypes and assumptions, we were a community within a
community. Everyone knew each other. We may have not always got along. My mama even
almost fought Taylor’s mom at the block club party. I felt guilty leaving my neighborhood
because I almost felt i was leaving my people. I acknowledge that I was still going to be riding
past my old block to go to school but it was not going to be the same. I was then going to feel
like a observer. It hurt. It stung. The neighborhood built the foundation of the person I am today.
The people. The events. I learned how it felt to belong somewhere and to be myself. I was
proud to say where I am from. I am still proud to. Scratch all the drama and tragic violence, it
was home to me.

Chapter 3: It hurts

It was burning and it wouldn’t stop burning. I wanted her to stop so much that my tears had
developed its own tears. Let me rewind minutes before.

My mom dropped me off at my grandma’s house. Everyone always goes to grandma's house
regardless if they have a reason to come or not. Grandma’s house was place where her doors
were always opened. Not literally open. The house was indeed locked securely every single
night. We got to grandma’s house some time in the afternoon. By we I mean my two sisters and
I. Hours had passed after playing around with my cousins and eating the hot dogs my grandma
made for all of us. My hands were so dirty. With ketchup and smashed bread on my shirt. I had
to go to the bathroom to clean up. The last thing I wanted was for mama to pick me up and I’m
being sent back dirty. I went to the bathroom. I was washing my hands. I turn on the cold water
then the hot water to make warm water. Probably a good fifteen seconds go by of me washing
my hands. Someone comes behind me. They’re taller than. Bigger than me. And most important
they’re stronger than me. Their arms reach for my hands. I can’t see a face. There hands were
so much bigger than mine that they were able to only use one hand to hold both of my hands
and reach for the water “turner”. The one hand turned the cold water completely off. I was
confused, my hands were still underneath where the water ran down. I struggled to get my tiny
hands released. The water started to become warmer. Then warmer. Then hot. Then hotter. I
was hollering. Screaming. As loud as my little vocal chords to go. My hands remained forced
under the hot water. Tears poured down my face. The steam from the water began to be hot as
well. I continued to scream and never stopped screaming.

“Stop! Please stop!”

“It hurts. Please!”

“Please! Please!”

They stopped and grabbed my hands together. Each hand comforted the other. I turn around
with tears still running from my face. It was my cousin Ebony. She was seventeen and hated my
mom. Her mom and my aunt would always get into fights daily. I fell to the ground and she left
out the bathroom. My body went into a rollie pollie form. I laid on the bathroom floor crying. That
is all I can remember. Next thing I know, I’m in a hospital bed. No I did not black out or faint. I
was awake the entire time according to my big sister. Maybe the memory was so painful that I
forced myself to forget? I have no clue. Maybe. I am reminded of this day every time I look at my
right hand. Although over the years, the third degree burn has healed. There are still circular
marks. One would have to look very closely to see but not me. I see it as clear as day. Standing
weeks from my 18th birthday and still haunted by a day that occured a decade ago.

I always wondered why. I knew why and that was because my cousin hated my mom and
wanted revenge. But why? Why me? Why choose to hurt me? Why want to leave a almost
permanent scar on a eight year old? Even till this day when I walk pass Ebony, I can’t truly
understand why. The family has forgave her. This family does not include my mom and siblings.
My grandma forgave her. My auntie and uncle and cousins forgave her.

“She didn’t know any better.” How does a seventeen year old not know she is hurting a eight
year old?

“She’s confused.” Confused about what? What about me? I was confused when my hand was
being held in boiling hot water. She was the first person I hated. She taught me how to hate.
She showed me evilness. A topic that was foreign to me personally.

Chapter 4:Reading
I always hated reading. But, growing up saying I hated reading I was always told to say I
“disliked reading” by all of my english teachers. They tended to argue that hate is a strong word.
I personally agree that hate is a strong word, however for describing reading it seemed like the
perfect word. It’s not like I can’t read a paragraph or a novel if I was assigned to. Yet, I still hated
reading. You can probably imagine my excitement when my mom came to me in ninth grade
and told me she signed me up for an all girls reading competition. When I say excitement, I
mean frustration.

My mom couldn’t contain her eagerness when she told me the news. So when she asked me
would I continue on, like any other daughter not wanting to disappoint their mom, I said yes.
While she was describing the details about the competition, her words went into one ear and out
the other. One thing, however, instantly caught my attention, she said “The category you will be
completing in is the 9th-12th grade.” My jaw dropped. There were so many thoughts in my mind.
Not only did I have to read aloud but, I had to go against girls that were older than me. It
petrified me.

The competition came and I received the passage I had to read. It was Maya Angelou's Still I
Rise. I was so excited because she was someone I thought of as a role model. I was given the
passage ten minutes before I had to complete. Ten minutes to practice. I looked around in my
category and I was one of two 9th graders. Everyone else were upperclassmen. When it was
my turn, I walked onto the stage and took a deep breath. I looked down at my paper and began
to read. While I was reading, all my nervousness begin to leave and I enjoyed reading my
passage. I felt empowered reading Still I Rise. Once I finished, I didn’t want to stop. I wished the
passage was longer. Two weeks later I got an email from the director of the competition, I won
first place! I couldn’t believe that I beat juniors and seniors in a competition. Not in any
competition, a reading competition. I was beyond happy and proud. Proud that I had given
myself a chance to do something I “always hated”. While I’m in 11th grade now, I read almost all
the time. Not because I have to, but because I want to. I wouldn’t say that absolutely love
reading but, I don’t mind reading.

This accomplishment was a proud moment. It is a day I will always remember. The reading
event was a transition to adulthood because, I was able to learn that an important life lesson.
That sometimes something may seem impossible or hard but, I wouldn’t know how hard it
actually is unless I try. Getting placed in that setting allowed me to get a taste on how the world
works. This was an transition within my family because, I felt I was ready for high school. My
family had seen me struggle and seen me fearful. After the competition, they saw me humbly
gain a new type of confidence. I can give credit to the one thing I thought I hated the most,
reading.

Chapter 5: Cruise to Bahamas

I can’t explain how excited I was to go on my first cruise. It was the summer of 2015. We were
going to the Bahamas. It was also my first time out of the country. When we arrived on the
cruise, I went straight to my room. Yes, I was on a cruise for the first time and was so tired. It
wasn’t my fault I was so exhausted. My entire family and I were stuck in boarding on the boat for
over hour. My mom forgot that we needed some identification in order to get on the actual boat.
We had our family friend, Kiki, go to our house and send fax over our needed documents.

Immediately after waking up from my well deserved nap, I went onto the deck. We were only
going to be on the boat for three days so the family didn’t wait on each other to do activities. My
mom and step dad went to the casino while Aj and Ashley went to the kid’s club to play games. I
texted my sister to ask where she was. I never received a text back. I had forgot how there was
no wifi on her phones at certain times since my stepdad only paid for three phones from our
room to have wifi at a time. We would all take turns switching who gets to use the wifi. I guess it
wasn't my turn. So I went to the teen’s clubhouse. Which was exactly what it sounds like. A
place where only 15-18 years were allowed. There were pop, music, games, and more
importantly people my age. I didn’t have no one really to talk to. I sat next to two other girls on
the couches and talked to them a little bit. But, once they left I was even more alone then when I
first arrived. I decided to go back to the room to see if I could run into someone in the family. I
did. My mom was in the room getting dress. She said that they were all going out to eat at the
burger restaurant dowanasits. I decided to go with them.

It was now our first full day. We were set to wake up in the Bahamas. Until then it was up to us
to occupy ourselves on the very expensive boat. This day happened to be the captain's dinner.
This day was when all the guests dressed up in nice clothes and actually take pictures with the
photographers who waited all day around the boat. All the members of the captain crew would
come greet us all and answer questions or take pictures. I did what was expected. I dressed up
in a black and red dress and took millions of pictures.

Once this was over, my mom told us that we were free to do what we wanted for the rest of the
night. We back to the deck. Everynight and at some parts of the day, the huge tv located above
the pool would play a movie. I went to go watch the movie on the deck. I didn’t have no chance
to change my clothes nor did I mind going in my captain’s clothes. I walked into the deck area
but didn’t see any empty seats. So, I leaned up against the wall. My plan was to watch the
movie and wait for someone to leave. I was standing there for probably almost ten minutes
when he approached me.

He was around my height and dark skin. He wore a white shirt and gray pants. He asked me
about the movie. We started talking about the cartoon movie which at the moment I can not
remember what movie was playing that night. We talked for about twenty minutes while I was
still standing by the entrance. He offered that actually find some seats. We did.We walked to the
side of the boat and found two empty seats. It was quiet since almost everyone sat where the
movie was playing. We talked and talked and talked. About any and everything. I liked him and
felt he liked me back. He called me pretty. I felt pretty. About an hour had past and it was at that
moment that I realized that he was longest boy I ever had a conversation with without being
extremely nervous and awkward. It really was a genuine connection.
Since it was late at night, not really too late it was about eight o'clock but the sky was pitched
black. I became cold and wanted to go back into the room to put on more comfortable clothes. I
did that. I put on a oversized green shirt that belonged to my stepdad and some gray sweats.
He was waiting for me in our spot when I came back. We talked so more. I was excited to talk to
him. We talked about high school, life, siblings, even favorite foods. Then he asked the question
that changed the night.

“Where do you live?” It was at that moment when it hit me that I was on cruise. A cruise that
hosts people from all around the country and/or even the world.

“Chicago” I responded.

All he could say was wow. I asked his question. He said New Orleans. I was taken back and so
was he. We both knew in that moment we would never seen each other again after we returned
to the states. I said goodnight and told him I would see him tomorrow. I lied. I knew I was not
going to see him again.

That day taught me how not everyone who enters your life, must have a place to stay forever. I
still remember him. His smooth yet soft talking voice. Sometimes I wonder what he could be
doing in New Orleans. To have a great connection with someone after one night, confused and
grew me.

Chapter 6:Undecided

I’m 17 years old and is still figuring out my life. I mean duh, right? It’s a scary feeling to feel like
you must have everything planned out.

“What college you're going to?” “What’s your major?” “What do you want to be when you grow
up?”

So many questions yet not enough answers. I learned that it’s okay to be undecided. To be
unsure. I have come a long way and not done.

The most important thing for another person to understand about me is my drive for success. I
say this because many people ask me why I work so hard. Why I study so hard. Why I push
myself so hard. My answer is simple that I understand the steps and obstacles I must face in
order to achieve my goals. ​I am raised in a home where education is extremely valued. I was
taught at a young age that in order to get the quality education needed to live the life I want to
live once I grow up, I had to overcome much. From kindergarten to eighth grade, I had to attend
schools outside of my neighborhood. My mother and I noticed that the schools I had to go to
receive the education I needed and wanted, were predominately white schools located on the
North side of Chicago. Traveling to school was very difficult since I relied heavily on public
transportation in order to get myself and my younger siblings to school everyday. Which meant
waking up extremely early everyday. The battles did not stop once I walked into the doors at
school. I found myself having to work extra hard in order to prove myself worthy. I’ll admit that
being one of the few African-Americans at my school did make me feel like an outsider at times
but, I never let it stop me from staying true to myself and remaining focus on my dreams and
goals. I learned to always remain humble because situations do not define who you are. How
someone uses their situation to better themselves and others is how one should be defined. I
learned to be motivated because, I must be the change I preach about wanting to have and
continue to build up myself and others. Without my family support and motivation I could have
never developed the strong work ethic I have. I look at my community and I pray that I become
a role model for the children I have seen being misguided to wrong directions. Where I can look
back at all the challenges thrown at me and finally say “Everything was worth it”. I know can
continue to grow and learn everything and more needed in order to become the successful
Black woman I am bond to be.