Story Time: Chapter One

I was born to a teen mom in Yonkers NY on February 19th, 1977. Her mother was a teen mother and her mother as well. It was and is an ugly cycle that didn't stop with them. She and my dad met in school and were together for a while, I will not go into their struggles out of respect for my family, however, what I will say is that it was a very tumultuous relationship. Ultimately, it did not work out and my mom and dad eventually separated. Over the years he kind of faded away, so, she had no choice but to raise me alone.

When I was around 2 my mother decided that she wanted a career as a hair stylist. When she dropped out of high school her career options were slim to none, especially for a single black mother with a limited high school education.

My mother, through determination and dedication finished cosmetology school and became a successful stylist. However, with that came sacrifice and the TV became my babysitter. I would memorize and act out scenes from my favorite movies and television shows. It was like I lived in a beautiful fantasy world that was all my own. I remember the HBO movie intro in the 80's like it was yesterday, I would run and jump in excitement that a movie was about to come on. It didn't matter what it was I would watch it nonetheless. I was probably the only person I knew who had cable at the time, if I wasn't outside or at a relative’s house I was home in front of my television!

I was beyond spoiled. I had an Atari, computer, cable TV, all the Cabbage Patch Kids a child could ever dream of. I had nice clothes, Buster Brown shoes, went to private school, went on vacations, you name it I had it or did it. I loved being an only child, to me I thought my life was normal. I would go to my aunt and uncles’ house who lived a few floors up from me, they had 3 children (another child came a few years later), to me they were my brothers and sister. They would sit for me when my mother had long work nights, was clubbing in NYC, or when I just wanted to get away from home. I recall saying their cereal wasn't real because it was generic. My uncle (whom I miss dearly) would say, "Okay, since it's not real then you won't eat". They kept me grounded because they were so accessible.

They were not the only family that helped raise me, my mother’s; mother, grandmother, sisters, uncles, aunts, cousins, and family friends all had a hand in my life as well...as they say it takes a village.

My mother’s older sister was the only one of her siblings with children at that time. Her daughter and I were born in the same year, so to me she was my twin. When her brother was born he was our baby. When their mother moved them to Bermuda, I was devastated. My cousin who I always referred to as an aunt had 4 children (2 step and 2 biological), her son was also born my year. I was the oldest of the 77 babies and to me they all were my world.

Yonkers was home, and our family was tight, I never thought that one day my mother would move me 3000 miles away, and then it happened.

To be continued...

XOXO,

Keema