Be True to Yourself While Making a Difference

The great American poet e e cummings said it right: "It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are." Being who you are in a society that wants to make you like everyone else is difficult. I cannot imagine trying to live as someone else. It takes courage to be yourself.

This is a collection of my life, my experiences, the lessons I learned, things that helped me to get to where I am: beauty, art, poems, quotations. Everything that combined tells my story. And I hope that by reading it, you can grow as well and be enlightened in some form.

My Story

"Slow and steady wins the race." That's what I always used to hear. But when you're younger, you don't want advice, you want to live your life. I remember my life in stories. Most of my memories deal with what house we lived in at the time and what color it was.

My parents are good people. I've always admired their strength and the sacrifices they made to give us a better life than they had. But I believe in their attempts to make things better for my brothers and me, they somehow got lost. "We were so happy poor, but when we got rich ... that's when our signals got crossed and we got flipped" (— Jay-Z). It's true that when you gain more money and more worldly things, sometimes you lose the essence of what truly matters: "The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing."

A parent is your best teacher. Most often, they attempt to keep you from making mistakes they know about (usually ones they have experienced). Even though they're not perfect, they are the vessel that brought you to this earth and are always to be honored.

My parents were jaded to a certain degree by friends and family and even the church.

Their distrust was passed along to my brothers and me. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing. I was taught to only trust in myself. But being young and unexperienced, I didn't understand their view; I hadn't dealt with this issue before. I just knew what I was told. I believe they did the best they knew how.

This, I believe, is the same way most people feel about God. I didn't understand the principles, not having much experience, and I didn't know how to have a personal relationship with him. I thought because I had done things wrong, he'd never accept me. Or I wasn't good enough. But the funny thing is, that's the whole point. True Christians are Christian because they need redemption. They admit they are not perfect and humble themselves. They live their life with respect for a higher power that they submit to. I'm not as religious as I am spiritual. I've heard a saying that religion is for people who are afraid of going to hell, while spirituality is for those who have already been there.

Auburn

Where I'm from, my family is well known. Auburn, NY, is the home of Harriet Tubman. My family is direct descendants of her bloodline. Proud and strong would efficiently describe us. My grandmother is Harriet Tubman's oldest living relative. She travels and speaks about our family. I have always admired that. Strong women are amazing to me. The fact that my grandmother was so into history, our family history, and history in general, is the reason I wanted to study history in college. I was fascinated by those who had gone before me, people who had experienced their life, those who didn't just live, stuck and dormant, those who had gone through hurt, pain, heartache, and fears and made it, those who had a full life and overcame their circumstances, no matter what they were.

As I got older, I referred to my hometown as the black hole. It always stayed the same; the people always stayed the same. No one wanted to branch out. No one wanted to grow.

Pre-K

My earliest memory was of school. I guess this shows the importance of education in my life. My mom was my preschool teacher, so she was always around. I thoroughly enjoyed this. I loved Mom and followed her relentlessly. I was basically her little shadow. She would literally turn around and bump into me from me trailing her so closely. And that was my life: my Mommy and me.

The Center

BTW Community Center was like a second home. We were always there. I was always with my family at after-school programs, free lunch and swimming in the summer, holiday dances, and block parties. There were no worries, it seemed, not like when I was older.

Kindergarten

My earliest memory is of both separation anxiety and self-consciousness. I didn't want to go to school. I didn't want to leave my mother, and I didn't want to be around strangers. Talk about the bird that doesn't want to leave the nest. I've had this issue for so long. But being the youngest and being the only girl, I was so sheltered. I was the baby, and that fact would always be a hurdle in my growth. My first day of school, I cried until Mom brought me back home. It got better as time went by, and I felt more comfortable and would actually stay at school. Every day at home, Mom would make me my favorite food. I'd have a baked potato and chocolate ice cream for dessert. Then I'd go for my half-day at school.

My father drove a tractor trailer for as long as I can remember. When I was about five years old, my Mom decided she wanted to drive with him. She left for a week or so, and during this time, my aunt watched my brothers and me. During this time, I got hurt, which was a horrible, traumatizing experience.

Busting Open My Eye

It was my turn to feed our pet gerbil named Scratch. But my brother, picking on me as usual, claimed he was going to feed him first. So playing around, we raced to the gerbil cage. I have always been clumsy, and while running, I tripped, fell, and busted my eye open on the wooden stand that the gerbil cage was on. I was rushed to the emergency room and had stitches in my eyebrow.

Florida First Grade

I barely remember first grade. We had moved to Miami, Florida, for a year. We lived right next door to my father's parents. They were a wonderful example of married life: They had been married for seventy years. My grandmother cooked a lot, and my grandfather was always washing his car. Those were my fondest memories. We had fruit trees in our backyard, lemon and bittersweet trees. My grandparents had an orange tree in theirs. My grandmother was a wonderful cook and so very kind. One day, though, she forced me to eat vegetables, and I was so upset. My grandfather called me his little movie star. I will never forget this. He was a great man. They were wonderful people.

Scratch Dying

During our move, we accidentally left our gerbil outside in the Florida heat, in a glass cage. When I went outside to check on him, I tapped his glass cage, and he tipped over, stiff as a board. You can imagine how traumatized I felt.

Falling on My Head

My brother and I were playing with the kids across the fence in our backyard. I think we were not supposed to be over there. Our bright idea was to swing from the clothesline pole and jump down. To get up to the clothesline pole, we had to climb on a cinder block. When it was my turn to swing, I climbed on the block, jumped up to reach the pole, and slipped. I fell back and busted my head on the concrete block. All I remember was going black. My aunt and mother brought me to the emergency room, where I received many stitches in the back of my head. I don't remember much...