My First Enemy

I didn’t even know where to begin this to be honest. I typed a sentence, erased a paragraph or two, even texted one of my close friends to ask them where they would start their story. I guess the beginning is the best place. But I have no memories of the beginning. Nobody to explain how it went. So I’ll start at I guess my first memories.

When I think about it, my first memories were kinda shitty. Come to think of it, my first memory was of The Children’s Aid society building on 44th Street in Manhattan. So I’ll just talk about specific situations that changed me.

I think my social worker was tormenting me as a joke. I still hate her. Maybe I gotta forgive to move on, but at this moment it’s still fuck her. You’ll understand why later. But she was my social worker for as long as I could remember. I had another lady, a black woman named Tracey Ware, but that was later down the road. Way after I planned to off Ms. Bush.

I know, you weren’t expecting things to get graphic. Sue me. I could use some more debt. But nah really, I thought of different ways I would like to see her go. Oh, you were waiting for a list? No problem. (Editor’s Note: Due to the conflicting ranges of age, race and sex of my readers you would need to tweet me @aguynamedremo to get that list in a more “casual” manner.)

Anyway, fuck her. She made my life a living hell. Really did a number on my childhood. And just when I was at my peak ripe age of 12, she took my freedom. But that lady man, that lady was like Cruela DeVille and I was one of the 101 puppies with the spots on them.

I use to believe it was because I was bad so she just decided to make it worse. But I realize now that she hated herself more than she could ever hate me. I was just a child. I didn’t ask to be here and it was obvious my mom wasn’t good enough or I wasn’t good enough but fuck it. Shit happened and well, I just know I seen Ms. Bush more than I saw my “mother” in my first 12 years of existence.

I don’t know, I’m really angry with this lady as you can see. But the reason is not anything she didn’t do for me. But what she did do.

So like I said, I was bad as a kid. But it wasn’t that I was bad, it was more less I didn’t give a fuck. So my actions that most deemed out of control was more less in control, I just knew it was nothing you could do that would make me change my mind. I think Ms. Bush knew it too.

So she basically punished me for being a kid. Mischievous and unpredictable but I was still a kid when I told her I didn’t do what I was being accused of. I was 12 years old at the time, probably about to be suspended from school. The only crime I ever committed was being hard headed but to be accused of robbery was out of the question. Still Ms. Bush decided to tell the nice detectives that she was done with me and go ahead and take him.

That moment exactly was probably the first real trauma I experienced, but my first as a black person. Where I felt that they just wanted to run away and hide away for life. Months before my 13th birthday, on May 5th, 1998 I became a resident of New York’s juvenile detention program. I’d spend the next 5 months fighting in court for a crime I didn’t commit and had no evidence for.

The things I experienced I’ll probably break down in another post, but prior to that I always had foster parents or something but for the first time ever, it was just me. No brother, no mother, no father, just me and the guards. I was told I had to plead guilty, which I eventually did and was told I’d spend 12 months in a residential treatment facility in Omaha, Nebraska called Boys Town.

I wouldn’t know freedom again until I aged out at 18. Being accused and told I was guilty for something I knew I didn’t do, knowing who did it and not speaking up maybe have been my biggest mistake. But loyalty is loyalty and it was ingrained in me. That same loyalty had me grow up any and everywhere the system decided. I was labeled a lost cause and threw inside with criminals and my only crime was not having anyone to give a fuck about me enough to fight for me. It’s probably why I don’t trust people.

It’s probably why I’m distant from “family.” It’s probably why I am the way I am. But it’s also why I hate Kathy Bush. But I forgive her now. It took a lot of years. But I realize now I needed that path in order to become who I am. And I’m thankful for it. It wasn’t easy by a long shot, but I made it thru so at least I can say that much.

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