Night Life In Portland

Fight or Flight; Fighting is Never the Best Option

First things first, don't stereotype what I am about to tell you. Keep an open mind. You're going to need it.

I was born in Knoxville, Tennessee around the middle of July. It was dem fireworks man. Scared the shit out of me so bad, I decided to spend a few extra days in the womb. Yeah that’s right. I was suppose to be born on the 4th and instead showed up on the 12th.

I was born into a polygamous family. My mom was one of the 4 wives of the house. Together, there were 20 children. I am the 21st and together my father fathered 24 kids. I am my mother baby, her last child. I have 8 older siblings who... I don’t know where the fuck they live. I hardly remember their names.

My father’s name was Richard Van Colten and he was the pastor of the Mormon church outside of Knoxville that still followed the practice of polygamy, meaning many spouses. He had 4 wives, Kassandra, Lauren, Irina, and my mother Abigail. My mother was a school teacher at the high school.

Kassandra had 6 kids, and their names were Kyle, Thomas, Liberty, Jacklynn, and Miley. Lauren had 4 whose names were Abraham, John, Quincy, and Hannah. Irina had 8 kids named Rose, Mary, Jordan, Bailey, Rick, Tanya, Micheal and Peter. My mother had the rest, my siblings Tracy, Truly, Trevor, Tyler, Tara and me, Tammy.

That’s right. My name wasn’t Genesis when I was born. Hell, my name was never Varon either. It was Tammy Kassidy Van Colten.

We lived on a really big ass farm, where each wife had their own house on this farm. My dad would travel and spend one night in every house. So sometimes I would see him once a week sometimes twice. Sometimes we would all meet up in one house and be together as a big family.

I loved it. I had 4 moms that loved and cared for me. I had 24 siblings for an endless amount of fun. This lifestyle is something that might not work for other folk, but for us... we couldn’t ask for anything more. It was amazing and worked wonders for us.

But our lifestyle didn’t work for others around us. Which made no sense. They’re not the ones in the polygamous relationship, so why is such a big fucking deal to them? Its like gay marriage. If you don’t like gay marriage, don’t marry the same sex. Don’t worry about other people’s lives, just worry about your own fucking life.

These people, they didn’t like that my father had 4 wives. Wasn’t like we were hurting people, but it was very frowned upon. We were suppose to keep it a secret. Not tell a soul that our family practiced polygamy. My father’s “wife” was Kassandra and her kids we theirs. The other moms we called Aunts and they were sisters of either Kassandra or Richard. So that I had to call my father my uncle and all my siblings, cousins. Anything to keep us safe.  It sucked. But there were people who wanted to hurt us, so sucked it may, but in the end it was worth it.

When I was 11, I don’t remember who, I think Kyle, but anyways one of the kids slipped. And they said things they shouldn’t have to the wrong people. So, dad did the only thing he could think of why we were being hated. His plan was to send us family by family to Utah, where a town resided full of just polygamous families.

So, slowly, he sent Kassandra and then Lauren, and then Irina to Utah. We were next. My family. My siblings were allowed to go whenever they had chosen. They were older than me and had that privilege. It was weird to be the only kid left, but I had to wait for Mama to go. Being Mama baby, she didn’t want me to go with the other wives, she wanted me to go with her.

We were about to leave. We were packed up, ready to go. The moving truck sat in waiting behind our mini van. This was it. This was goodbye to our home. I ran upstairs to get one more thing. I was coming back down the stairs when the door slammed open. My mom came racing in, yelling “Tammy, go hide!” and stuff like that. I ran back up the stairs and hid behind the corner. My dad rushed in and closed the door and locked it. He held my mother tightly. There was yelling from all over and windows being broken, doors being slammed open.

I watched it. I watched it all. I heard it. It will can never be unseen, unheard. All that shouting... and pounding and breaking glass, it was all a big warning. My father tried to reason with them, he tried so hard. But they shot him. They shot him right in the head. My mother was screaming and crying, cradling him. I felt the tears well up in my eyes, but I dared not to cry. A lady doesn’t cry, something I was taught well.

My mother was next. The house was silent after that. No one moved, no one talked. I backed up and ran when I heard someone say ‘search the house and shoot any of the kids you find’.

I ran to my room and opened my window. I spent many nights climbing out this window, I knew I could do it again. I quietly climbed out. I could hear them coming up the stairs and it was so hard not to panic and miss my step. I jumped down and looked around the corner of the house. The coast was clear. Everyone was looking for me inside. I ran to the mini van and got in the driver seat. The keys, lucky for me, were in the car. Living on a farm, I knew how to drive. I had done it so often, I had this.

I was scared. I didn't want them to find me nor did I want to get caught driving without a license. I even went as far as to steal gas for my car, waiting for the attendant to look away and driving off before the could catch me. I stayed to driving at night to avoid traffic and cops. I had to make it to Utah, to tell my moms and siblings what happened and to be  cared for by my other moms.

But I didn't know how to get to Utah and no places were open to ask for directions so I guessed my way. I ended up stopping in Oregon. I knew Oregon and Utah weren't that close but my car had seen its better days. I was stuck in Oregon and I had no way to leave. I decided to stay but things weren't easy without my family. I got into things I didn't expect and made a huge mess. Opps.