“I’m just afraid I made it worse,” I sniffled to Des as I cuddled down next to her on her bed last night.
“No, Leis, someday she’s going to look back and remember that there was someone who did SOMETHING about it,” Des said patting my head. Her side jerked with a little laugh. “Oh…my….living with you….mass amounts of kittens…cuckoo clocks...getting in fights with meth addicts…we’re going to get killed one of these days…”
I don’t think she realizes how much I appreciate her – in all her quirkiness—because she tolerates me with her extra large heart and her ability to calmly, gently, handle difficult situations. Such a tiny, frail young woman with such a good, good, heart.
“I got in a fight with a guy on meth last night,” I blurted out to Shazaam when she stopped by my desk this morning.
“You what?!”
“Well…my sister and I were in our apartment and we heard some guy screaming on the other side of the fence. He was yelling and cussing at what sounded like a child. The child was practically in hysterics and the guy just kept yelling ‘What the F—K did you say?! What the F—K did you say? What’d you say?’. The child kept crying ‘Nothing! I didn’t say anything!’ but he kept screaming at the kid and yelling at the child to stop crying and get the f-ing tears off their face because at seven they should know better. At first I thought it was Alfred, this little boy who comes over to the house, and when he wouldn’t stop screaming I went over to the fence and started banging on it.”
“Well did he stop?”
“No, he couldn’t seem to hear me over his own loud yelling and when I peeked through the fence and saw it was a tiny little, shuddering girl, I lost it. I got so mad I started yelling for him to stop it and then I ripped off part of the fence so I could get a look at him and he could see me. Before I knew it this huge six foot something dude looms over the top of the fence—all sweaty and angry—and starts screaming at me that I need to leave them alone and he can do whatever he wants to his daughter,” I said, feeling sad even as I relayed the story.
“So I told him he can NOT do whatever he wants to his daughter, and he said he could and said I should just leave it alone and I said I was going to call the cops or CPS or something…I asked him if he was on drugs…I tried to calm down but I was so upset I started crying even as I was trying to loudly rationalize with him why yelling at a child to get her to stop yelling (which is what he said) was not exactly productive--- and he said ‘Go ahead and call the CPS--- I know what to tell them. I know how to be a parent—I got eighteen kids so I know what I’m doing.”
EIGHTEEN KIDS?!!!
“Twelve boys and six girls,” he said while his eyes rolled every which way. His teeth were partially rotted out. His sweaty neck glistened.
“Before I knew it,” I said to Shezaam, there was a whole flock of the family leaning over the fence cussing us out. My sister was very rational and just explained why it was inappropriate to treat a child that way but the women were all up on me for ripping off the fence,”
“Who ripped off this fence? You know your son goes and wrecks this fence and then we get in trouble,” one of the Grandmothers of the house yelled at me.
"I don't have a son," I said back to her.
“You people go mind your own f-ing business and leave this alone. You leave it alone, you hear me? You go to West L.A. and then you can see how kids get treated real bad by their daddy’s—you just leave this alone-- it's HIS child, he can do what he wants. And stop messin with this fence or we'll get in trouble.”
“You care more about a FENCE than you do about a CHILD?!” Desiree said forcefully while I continued to debate back and forth with the grandmothers about why demographics and locations have nothing to do with child maltreatment.
“And why you all emotional and shit? What’s wrong with you? You just leave it alone,” the family members said to me (yeah, still crying but pissed) while the man kept ranting and yelling about his parenting skills. The little girl, Tigger, with tears dried on her face, kept trying to see through the fence and up and over it.
When it was “over” the man was still laying into Tigger but really quitely this time. Little D said she saw him hit her. So we called CPS-- though little good they will do, most likely.
“I’ve never seen you like that before,” Little D said.
“I’m sorry if I scared you, Des,” I said to her last night. “I would never yell at you like that, you know, I just don’t like to see a big man like that picking on a little girl.”
“You know my dad used to beat the living F—K out of my mom and stepmom and everyone just says--- leave it alone. They’re property. You don’t touch that. The churches—white and black—just said leave it alone. All those born agains...right to life-- what about right to quality of life? I was the only black girl in a big white born again church that said black people were because of Cain….so you know I got issues with those Born Agains. But seriously--- the culture just lets that shit happen and nobody does ANYTHING. I finally ran away when I was fifteen and you know what the churches and everybody said? Why you doing that? You stay home with your family. And I was like ‘hell, no, I’ve seen something different, I’m outta here,’” Shezaam said about her life this morning at my desk when I told her what happened last night.
“I was really upset last night, though, because I was afraid I might have made it worse-- what if he's harder on her because I said something?” I asked her.
“You can’t make it any WORSE! It can’t GET any worse! No—you and your sister did the right thing because, let me tell you this--- I WAS that girl--- and no one did ANYTHING. EVER. Not the church. Not my neighbors. Not my friends. NO ONE stood up or stepped in for me. And it wasn’t until I caught a glimpse that people COULD live differently—that I finally realized that I wanted something else. So that girl SAW something different with you guys and she won’t forget it. Take it from your token abused black child in me,” she laughed heartily as she said that last part.
“I heard someone say once” Shezaam added, “you walk down the street and you see a piece of wood and its like, no big deal. You just keep going. But if you’re in the middle of the ocean, and you see that piece of wood, you grab onto it for dear life because it’s the only thing that’s going to keep you from drowning. So what that little girl saw last night was a piece of wood in the ocean—don’t you ever stop doin’ that.”
God I hope we don’t.
“No, Leis, someday she’s going to look back and remember that there was someone who did SOMETHING about it,” Des said patting my head. Her side jerked with a little laugh. “Oh…my….living with you….mass amounts of kittens…cuckoo clocks...getting in fights with meth addicts…we’re going to get killed one of these days…”
I don’t think she realizes how much I appreciate her – in all her quirkiness—because she tolerates me with her extra large heart and her ability to calmly, gently, handle difficult situations. Such a tiny, frail young woman with such a good, good, heart.
“I got in a fight with a guy on meth last night,” I blurted out to Shazaam when she stopped by my desk this morning.
“You what?!”
“Well…my sister and I were in our apartment and we heard some guy screaming on the other side of the fence. He was yelling and cussing at what sounded like a child. The child was practically in hysterics and the guy just kept yelling ‘What the F—K did you say?! What the F—K did you say? What’d you say?’. The child kept crying ‘Nothing! I didn’t say anything!’ but he kept screaming at the kid and yelling at the child to stop crying and get the f-ing tears off their face because at seven they should know better. At first I thought it was Alfred, this little boy who comes over to the house, and when he wouldn’t stop screaming I went over to the fence and started banging on it.”
“Well did he stop?”
“No, he couldn’t seem to hear me over his own loud yelling and when I peeked through the fence and saw it was a tiny little, shuddering girl, I lost it. I got so mad I started yelling for him to stop it and then I ripped off part of the fence so I could get a look at him and he could see me. Before I knew it this huge six foot something dude looms over the top of the fence—all sweaty and angry—and starts screaming at me that I need to leave them alone and he can do whatever he wants to his daughter,” I said, feeling sad even as I relayed the story.
“So I told him he can NOT do whatever he wants to his daughter, and he said he could and said I should just leave it alone and I said I was going to call the cops or CPS or something…I asked him if he was on drugs…I tried to calm down but I was so upset I started crying even as I was trying to loudly rationalize with him why yelling at a child to get her to stop yelling (which is what he said) was not exactly productive--- and he said ‘Go ahead and call the CPS--- I know what to tell them. I know how to be a parent—I got eighteen kids so I know what I’m doing.”
EIGHTEEN KIDS?!!!
“Twelve boys and six girls,” he said while his eyes rolled every which way. His teeth were partially rotted out. His sweaty neck glistened.
“Before I knew it,” I said to Shezaam, there was a whole flock of the family leaning over the fence cussing us out. My sister was very rational and just explained why it was inappropriate to treat a child that way but the women were all up on me for ripping off the fence,”
“Who ripped off this fence? You know your son goes and wrecks this fence and then we get in trouble,” one of the Grandmothers of the house yelled at me.
"I don't have a son," I said back to her.
“You people go mind your own f-ing business and leave this alone. You leave it alone, you hear me? You go to West L.A. and then you can see how kids get treated real bad by their daddy’s—you just leave this alone-- it's HIS child, he can do what he wants. And stop messin with this fence or we'll get in trouble.”
“You care more about a FENCE than you do about a CHILD?!” Desiree said forcefully while I continued to debate back and forth with the grandmothers about why demographics and locations have nothing to do with child maltreatment.
“And why you all emotional and shit? What’s wrong with you? You just leave it alone,” the family members said to me (yeah, still crying but pissed) while the man kept ranting and yelling about his parenting skills. The little girl, Tigger, with tears dried on her face, kept trying to see through the fence and up and over it.
When it was “over” the man was still laying into Tigger but really quitely this time. Little D said she saw him hit her. So we called CPS-- though little good they will do, most likely.
“I’ve never seen you like that before,” Little D said.
“I’m sorry if I scared you, Des,” I said to her last night. “I would never yell at you like that, you know, I just don’t like to see a big man like that picking on a little girl.”
“You know my dad used to beat the living F—K out of my mom and stepmom and everyone just says--- leave it alone. They’re property. You don’t touch that. The churches—white and black—just said leave it alone. All those born agains...right to life-- what about right to quality of life? I was the only black girl in a big white born again church that said black people were because of Cain….so you know I got issues with those Born Agains. But seriously--- the culture just lets that shit happen and nobody does ANYTHING. I finally ran away when I was fifteen and you know what the churches and everybody said? Why you doing that? You stay home with your family. And I was like ‘hell, no, I’ve seen something different, I’m outta here,’” Shezaam said about her life this morning at my desk when I told her what happened last night.
“I was really upset last night, though, because I was afraid I might have made it worse-- what if he's harder on her because I said something?” I asked her.
“You can’t make it any WORSE! It can’t GET any worse! No—you and your sister did the right thing because, let me tell you this--- I WAS that girl--- and no one did ANYTHING. EVER. Not the church. Not my neighbors. Not my friends. NO ONE stood up or stepped in for me. And it wasn’t until I caught a glimpse that people COULD live differently—that I finally realized that I wanted something else. So that girl SAW something different with you guys and she won’t forget it. Take it from your token abused black child in me,” she laughed heartily as she said that last part.
“I heard someone say once” Shezaam added, “you walk down the street and you see a piece of wood and its like, no big deal. You just keep going. But if you’re in the middle of the ocean, and you see that piece of wood, you grab onto it for dear life because it’s the only thing that’s going to keep you from drowning. So what that little girl saw last night was a piece of wood in the ocean—don’t you ever stop doin’ that.”
God I hope we don’t.
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