The Sneaky Link

Little Black Girl From Chicago

"You make me so sick! You lay in this bed all day while i run after these kids ! Kira still coming in late , Tommy disrespecting his teachers... little David and Nathan need some new clothes and Jade needs some new shoes ! Damn it Leroy You gotta go!" My mother screamed at the top of her lungs. My father laid on the sofa surrounded by beer bottles and cigarettes that spilled out of the ashtray. I sat on the steps listening to them argue. At the age of 11 i learned alot about what not to accept from a man. I learned that love isn't always enough. My father would beat us sometimes in drunken rages. I remember when i was three and he kicked us all out in the freezing cold and we had to stay with my aunt until he sobered up after a 5 day binge. I would go to school wearing long sleeves during the summer to hide the bruises. My mother would see us but tell us she was going to beat us if we told anyone. She never laid a hand on us unless we were in deep trouble but she also didn't want us telling the white folk what my father had been doing. Anything to keep that welfare money flowing.

"Damn it Theresa ! I'm trying ! I'm trying!"My father said stumbling up off the couch.

"Yeah since you came back from Vietnam you've been tripping ! 14 years Leroy ! 14!" My mother yelled. My father walked over to the coat rack and grabbed his coat. A cigarette dangled from his lips and i could feel the breeze from the cold air when he opened the door.  My mother slammed and locked the door behind him. She was pissed off and was pacing back and forth.

"Jade...come here." I heard her say. I walked down the steps and sat on the couch facing her.

"I'm going to work on getting your shoes for school...promise me when you get older , don't take no shit from a man, and definitely don't let them fuck you if they can't finance you,respect you or feed you. "She said walking away.

"Yes mama."I responded. I remember the day as if it was yesterday. I was a poor black girl from Chicago that had hand me downs from thrift stores.  It was 1989 and I was 11 years old old living in the projects in Chicago. A poor black girl with a screwed up daddy, annoying siblings and mother that was mad at the world. After that day my daddy never came around for a while. My mother started working at the hospital and i was left to watch my younger brother David and Nathan. On weekends our house was full of drunks and dope boys. My mother started dating a man name Earl who was a known pimp and drug dealer. She didn't care because Earl was bringing in the money as long as he didn't touch her girls, but he did...

I was knocked out sleep when it went down, jolted awake by all the ruckus. I jumped up and ran to my mama, begging for some comfort and protection. But to my surprise, she brushed off my distress like it was no big deal, telling me to let him have his way for a measly $50. That moment shattered my innocence and left me feeling straight-up betrayed.

After that messed-up incident, me and my sister Kira made a pact to bounce from that toxic place we called home. We found refuge with our grandma, who held us down for a good few years until we hit high school. Through it all, I never let myself drown in self-pity. I knew I was just another broke little black girl from the streets of Chicago, and sadly, that was the reality for a lot of girls my age.

Living through all them struggles, I gained a deep understanding of people and the whole marriage game. Seeing my parents split up in such a chaotic way made me question if love was even real. If love couldn't keep my parents together, then what was the point? Love seemed like a fake front, a phony illusion that couldn't handle the harshness of real life.

As I got older, I started thinking maybe my pops, Earl, was onto something with the kind of work he did. If love couldn't hold a family down, then maybe there was some truth to the idea that money and stability were the real foundation of a successful relationship. The disappointment I felt shaped my view on love, making me skeptical and straight-up cynical about its true worth.