Glass Half Empty
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Introduction
On the fourth day of June in the year of 1991, an angelic baby girl emerged from her frightened teenage mothers womb. Giving birth to an innocent soul with no one claiming to have fathered this bundle of joy, would render this young woman a single mother. Being that no one claimed this child, as she grew up she would soon question her very being and existence. As afraid and inexperienced as this new mother was, she would soon do everything within her being to provide for her child and later on three more children.
Early Childhood
At the age of four years old, I had two younger sisters. My middle sister and I were just a little over a year apart and my baby sister and I were about three years apart. My two younger sisters had the same father and were familiar with him in a way that I would and could never be with my father.
Growing up, I wasnt always given what I wanted; however, I was always supplied with what I needed. My mother did everything in her power to make sure that we had clothes on our backs, shoes on our feet, and food in our tummies. When my mother felt as if she was unable to provide for my sisters and I, she did what she thought would be best for her three little girls.
When I was five years old, my sisters and I were sent to live in upstate New York with my mothers aunt. We stayed there with our aunt, her boyfriend, and her two teenage daughters. Early on I noticed that my great aunt was a pretty wealthy woman. We lived in a big house with a huge front and back yard that had tons of playing space unlike the duplex we had formerly called “home”. My aunt showered us with all of the latest name brand clothes, shoes, toys, and pretty much anything money could buy.
My mother would call my aunt to check up on us all the time. I would get so excited when I knew my mother was on the other end of the phone. She was happy to hear that her “little princesses” as she referred to us, were doing well and living a better life. However, soon things would take a turn for the worse. Even though my aunt provided my sisters, my cousins and I with more than enough possessions, I began to see her true insidious motives. Unbeknownst to me, my mothers aunt had serious psychological issues due to the fact that her father constantly raped her as a child, which resulted in her mental health being in a state of despair and hysteria. These conditions caused her to behave like a tyrant to the sole household. My younger sister, my cousins, and I were subjected to physical abuse, mental abuse, and emotional abuse on a daily basis. She would never hurt my baby sister because she was her favorite. The more my aunt would blatantly exhibit her favoritism of my sister, the more my younger sister and I found ourselves in a state of envy and hate towards our baby sister. It was as if she had turned us against one another. At the time these conclusions were unclear, and her very actions puzzled me. The reason for my great aunts behavior was indistinguishable at the time. I couldnt understand why she would want to hurt her own blood.
A few years passed before my mother would be able to come back for us and take us to live with her in Florida.
Middle Childhood
I was ecstatic to find out that I now had a little brother since it had only been my sisters and I. When we came back to Florida, I couldnt have been happier to now be living with my mother. It felt like we had been separated for an eternity. My sisters and I were soon enrolled into the Orange County Public School system. We attended a predominantly Caucasian school by the name of Riverside Elementary School. In my second grade class I was one of two black girls. I enjoyed my new life and had a new outlook on the negative things previously noted.
Later on, I began to develop behavioral problems while in school. I would find myself consistently getting into trouble. Not only did I have problems at school, but the problems began to manifest at home as well. My sisters and I were always bickering and fighting. A lot of the time I was very disobedient which resulted in many punishments from my mother. After this phase of bad behavior, I soon took the initiative to play my role as the “big sister”. I had finished third grade at Riverside Elementary only to begin fourth grade in a new school. That summer we moved into a different part of Orange County where the houses and neighborhood differentiated in class and environment. Just when I was getting used to the idea of having to start all over and make new friends, that following fall a detrimental part of my life took place. Because of the condition of the house we lived, my baby brother ended up getting sick. He had developed a rare a rare blood disorder and was in the hospital for an extended period of time. I could remember going to visit my baby brother, and going with my mother to get donations from different businesses in our community in order to pay my brothers medical bills due to the lack of insurance. My brother could hold on no longer and ended up passing away two days before my ninth birthday.
Afterwards, I just remember my mother crying everyday for which seemed like forever. Shortly after this horrific turn of events, we packed up and moved yet again. This time, we moved into one of the most crime ridden parts of Orlando, a city called Pine Hills, also infamously referred to as “Crime Hills”. We started school that fall at Rolling Hills Elementary School, a predominantly African-American school. It was a total culture shock for my sisters and me, due to the fact that we had previously been enrolled in predominantly Caucasian schools. The schools we had previously attended were schools with nice structures, bright students, and good reputations as “A” schools. The school we were now attending was an “F” school and was completely opposite in every aspect from our former elementary schools. My sisters and I tuck out like sore thumbs because of the way we dressed, our mannerisms, and the way we spoke. We were constantly badgered with the question of why we “talked white”. According to many of the students we interacted with, it was obvious that we hadnt developed a Black consciousness due to the fact that we had previously attended Caucasian schools resulting in us not being able to identify with the African American students values, norms, and priorities. In my previous schools what you wore, how much money you had, and how many pair of Jordans you had did not coincide with your academic and mental capability. I soon began to hate my school and neighborhood because of the ignorance I was forced