I've Had to Bend But I Didn't Break

The responsibility was on my mother. I remember a few times that my daddy actually sent money when I asked him, but not very often. I loved my daddy, no matter what people and my mother said that might have been bad about him. He was still my dad. He would visit Mississippi occasionally.

It was hard growing up because my mother was very strict on us. She was stressed out raising two kids and working at the chicken factory. She hated that job, but she remained faithful to it for 22 years and until we graduated from high school.

She was only human and she had her weaknesses. My mother wanted to be loved just as many of us do. Another reason my mother was stressed was that she dated a married man until the day he died. My mother told me that he said when the last of his kids leave the nest that he would be with her. After 20 something years, the kids never grew up.

She was lonely and miserable most of the time; I would overhear her talking on the telephone, telling her friend ho tired she was on the situation. My brother told me many

Times he would see her sitting on her sitting on her bed crying with the door closed. The only time I remember seeing her cry was when someone had passed into the next life.

Every neighborhood we moved to the kids would label my mother as the meanest woman on the block. I would agree with them 99% of the time. My mother believed in spanking, or to break it down, beating our behinds. Oh, I’ve had my share of them. Many times, I didn’t deserve them. She didn’t whip us with belts; she whipped us with extension cords. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m all for kids getting disciplined; I just don’t feel that they should be whipped with extension cords.

One particular time, my aunt who lived in the country called my mother and passed on a lie to her. It was the Fourth of July and we were out of incense to light the fireworks. We were given cigarettes by another relative to light the fire works. My cousin, Verida, was standing at the window, ran and told her mother that we were outside smoking cigarettes.

That night I went home and the telephone rang; I heard my mother say "I’m going to beat her a--!" I looked at my cousin and said, "What did I do now?" Within seconds, my mother entered the room with an extension cord in her hand. She beat me severely. My cousin, Thelma, tried to tell her why we had the cigarettes. Mom would not listen. I get tears in my eyes thinking about that beating she gave me; I think that was the worst one of all. I guess it was the worst because it was based on a lie and I didn’t get the chance to explain to her. For a long time, I held a grudge against all of the parties that was involved in it. My aunt is dead and gone, but that was a lie she took to the grave with her.

Don’t get me wrong, my mother raised us the best she knew how. I thank God now for all of those behind whippings she gave me to keep me in line. Now as an adult before doing something that might be wrong. I’d wonder what my mother would do.

My mother instilled all the good qualities in us that a mother would instill in her children. Do not steal, kill or lie. I don’t ever remember a time our lights or phone were disconnected nor were a time we didn’t have food on the table. She had a budget from week to week. She didn’t believe in trying to feed the neighborhood kids. She would always tell us, "Let them go home and eat because I only have enough for us."

There were many issues that I couldn’t go to my mother and discuss. I didn’t know how to approach her because I didn’t know if she would fuss at me or blame me. One particular issue I didn’t know how to tell her about is what’s known today as CHILD MOLESTATION.

I never told anyone, but a lady that lived across the street from us had a grown grandson-I would say that he was about 20 years old. He would make my friend and me sit on his lap and, he would take his penis out of his pants, and have us to rub him while he fondled us and masturbated. He never had intercourse with us because was not a dummy. He knew that he was too large for us. Many times, I would not want to go to my neighbor’s house if he was going to be over there. I would ask my friend, "Is he coming down the street to your house?"

DON’T be naïve, parents, and not ask your children why they don’t want to go to certain places. Parents, LISTEN to your children. They might be crying out for help when they say that they don’t want to be left alone at that place. Investigate calmly in a soft tone and ask them, " Little Tony or Kim, why don’t you want to go over to Ms. Neighbor’s house and play?" "What have they done to you, you can tell mommy?" You will find that the answer you receive will be more beneficial than if you had not asked. When I finally got the courage to tell my mother, it was time for us to go back to the country and I felt as if I would be okay.

It was difficult for my mother to take care of us. Somehow, we ended up in the country for a school year. Her mother and father lived in the small town of Crystal Springs, Mississippi. I hated the country life. I would always say when I grow up, I’m moving to the big city.

I was six years old when I lived with them that school year. I was the youngest of the granddaughters. I can vividly remember it as if it were yesterday. I was named after my grandmother. After living with my grandparents, I could see where my mother gets her ways. I used to tell my cousins I feel like running away. They would whip us with big switches. They did not play either. My mother always told me that my grandmother would tell her, "Whatever money or anything of values she had, she would rather for the white people to have it before her own children." Why? I don’t know: however, I believe that it bothered my mother inside. Sure enough, my grandmother passed on and years later, her husband joined her in death. They had money in the bank and the kids could not find the key to the safety deposit box. At least that’s what we were told, but who knows. While living with my grandparents, I had to get up very early in the mornings. I had to go to the fields to peas, corn, okra and snap beans. Occasionally, I would have to go out back to feed the hogs the slop that we had collected for them to eat. I would cry to my grandmother when she would tell us to go out and catch a chicken for supper. We would run after the chicken until we caught one and I would cry because I didn’t want to snap its neck to kill it. That’s why I hated the country life.