Healing a Caged Heart: My Daddy Issues & Me
The first man that was ever supposed to love me and protect me walked away. He was my father and I was old enough to understand his leaving. I was not old enough to know what that meant about me.
Some of my earliest memories around my relationship with my father, that I can directly recall, involve me asking my mom if I could sit out front of our apartment complex. I had to ask because our apartment was not in eyesight of where I would sit. I didn't ask to sit out front because of my excitement.…
Its Not Easy to Admit I Endured Racial Victimization
I have never really talked about the trauma of my childhood. Most people looking into my life would say I had it pretty damn good. I was a black child of educated parents , I lived a middle class life. I was never hungry, always had the things I needed and I remember my cousin saying, my room looked liked one from a magazine. I was cared for by parents who loved me.
I went to “privileged” schools, which I was reminded of daily by the institution and I had white privileged friends.