Closed Doors: A Memoir Lesson Learned

By Staci M Weems

Mona grew up in Brooklyn, New York, with five siblings. Mona loved her siblings and her mom. She did not know that her mom suffered with an illness that would tear their family apart. Mona later lived with a father and new siblings she barely knew. Mona learned that her father was abusive and had a serious drug problem. Mona and her sister Emma went through hell before they were free.
Mona would have to learn to teach herself about life and family hardships. Mona would see many of her dreams closed by doors that opened to more pain. Mona experienced life, love, pain, loss, and spirituality before she at last recognized her purpose.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 25, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481727495

Staci M Weems

I was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York. I am the youngest child of six children. I grew up in a Muslim home that was very strict. My mom suffered for many years with mental depression that tore me and my siblings apart. My dad was a musician, and for years he suffered with substance abuse. For years I watched me and my siblings succumb to the harsh and cruel realities of the world of the streets. In my heart I always knew there had to be more in life than what I was living. From lack of proper guidance, I learned much about life on my own. There was always that pocket of hope and faith I kept with me. I know for myself that the choices and decisions I made in my life were not all right, but God was with me through it all. We walk through many doors in life, but it is our choice and decision to either walk through the right door or the wrong door. Either door you walk through in life will be the experience that God will lead you through. It's up to you to make sure that once you walk through that wrong door to make sure it will never open again. For each door of life there is a lesson to be learned.

Book preview

© 2013 by Staci M Weems. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/09/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-2748-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-2749-5 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013904424

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Preface

The Seventies

Like Nothing Ever Happened?

Me and the Siblings… Being Muslims

Beautiful Lucille (Umi)

The White Dog

The Curse

Abu not Really My Dad?

Meeting My Dad (Reginald Bennett) For the Very First Time

Reginald Bennett

Miriam

The Incident with Miriam and Me

The Order

A Girl Named Rose

The Fight

Malike and Rose

Kareema

Victoria and Kareema

Thanksgiving at Nanna’s House and Meeting Great-Grandma Maude

Sister Miriam’s Apartment

Queens, Jamaica

Jealousy

The Shave

Daddy’s House

Bellevue, Siblings and Separation?

Umi’s Return

Five Percenters?

Remembrance

Run, Catch, and Kiss

The Fight

Umi’s Trench Coat

Remembrance

The Bank Job

Kareema’s Departure

Complete Jealousy

Developing into a Young Woman…

Aisha and Messiah

Wonderama

Zainab’s Sick

Remembrance

The Big Move

Umi Married, and Betrayal

Umi and Abdul

Daddy’s House: Umi’s Ultimate Betrayal

Remembrance

Living in Manhattan on Fifty-Fourth Street with Daddy

I Didn’t Ask for a Dog

Remembrance

Me, Donna, and the Bum

The Beatings

A Boy Named Bobby

The Window

Time to Run Away… Get the Papers Ready

Remembrance

Time to Run Away

The Summer of 1978…

The Bronx

Back Home in the Dungeon with the Dragon

Remembrance

Aisha Comes To Stay… for Just a Minute

Try Your Luck Again, Mary

Melly Rushed to the Emergency Room

Time to Move

Court Time

The Foster Homes

Living in Far Rockaway

Ms. Blake’s Kids

Dwayne… Another Crush

Wanting to Get Out

Central Islip

Emma and I

Remembrance

Running Away Again?

Emma Broke My Heart

Back to Central Islip

The Conflict with Religion

Emma Coming Back

My Calling from God

Remembrance

Living With Debbie… at Daddy’s Place

Falling Apart and Drugs

The First Beating

The Second Beating

Remembrance

My Time has Run It’s Course

Living With Debbie at Ms. Horne’s House

Living in Queens with Aisha

Daddy and Denise

Back to the Bronx and Fred

Group Home in Queens?

The Martinique Hotel and the Bronx

Remembrance

Finding Sharon

Crack, Sex, Drugs, and Innocence Lost

The Chase

Rape and a Long Break

Remembrance

A Man in Front

Living on Our Own

Something’s Watching Over Us

We Depart

The Cloud is Dark; No Light is Shining

Nobody Really Cared—or Did They?

Something Has Begun to Grow Inside Me

Making a Way

My Calling

Eleven Years of My Life—Poof! Gone

My Ending or My Beginning?

About the Book

For my grandchildren

Preface

What is it about life we try to figure out? In all actuality, the only issue to figure out is how to survive. Many doors are given to us to walk through, but it’s our choice to choose which doors we want to walk thorough: easy, medium, hard, or rock bottom. When we walk through each door, God is with us, carrying us through each door we choose. He lets us make our own choices, but he also guides our path. Some of us hear him, and some of us choose to ignore him. Walk through the doors that will give you knowledge and wisdom so you can sustain your walk in life. Don’t make your life hard—do your best to make it right.

I wrote this for my children and my grandchildren. Let your walk in life be full of peace, prosperity, love, success, and God, because he will see you through as He has done for me.

Love Always,

Mom

Love,

Nana

The Seventies

Life. What is so important about life to some people? When I was a girl, some things happened to me that scarred my life permanently. I remember what I experienced in my life as a young Muslim girl. I still remember that Saturday morning like yesterday. I and my siblings sat in my brother’s room watching the Saturday morning cartoons. There were six of us: one boy and five girls. My mother, who we called Umi (Mom in Arabic), was going through a lot of issues in her present life, as she had in her past.

It was a beautiful morning that Saturday. The sun was shining through the eighth-floor window of the project apartment. We kids all sat on the floor watching the small black-and-white television that also sat on the floor. All of our beds were on the floor—that was the Muslim custom. We were very close when I was little. All I knew were my siblings, my Umi, and my Abu (Dad).

As we sat there joking around with one another, I could hear small cries coming from Umi’s room. I wasn’t sure if my other siblings heard the sound, but whether they did or didn’t, they did not show it. Then I heard Umi’s door open. Our laughing and joking stopped in a quick instant. It was as if someone pressed a button and we all stopped in our tracks. Umi stood in front of my brother’s room door, naked. When she spoke it was not the voice that I always knew. This voice sound like a man—deep, eerie, and not of Allah. She walked away, calling my older siblings. Because I was the youngest of the six, it was very rare that Umi called me to do much.

My sister Aisha ran into the closet and began to cry. Miriam, Kareema and Zainab went into the kitchen. My brother Malike went out of the room with my sisters. I heard him saying something to my sisters. Umi began to cry, and Aisha was still hiding in the closest. Malike came to the room and told me to stay inside and watch television. Every time Umi would cry, I would jump. Malike closed the room door, leaving me in the room. I tried to focus on the cartoon, but Umi kept crying. Whenever my mother cried, I cried. It hurt my heart to see her hurt. I began to cry as I watched the cartoons. My vision blurred, but I tried to watch the television. Then I got up from the floor and walked to the door. As soon as my little hands reached for the doorknob, Umi yelled out a piercing scream. I opened the door. I could still hear Aisha crying in the closest. I walked into the hall of the project apartment. When I got to the corner of the wall, I peeked around in time to see Zainab bring a pot of hot water into the bathroom. About a minute later I heard Umi scream again. I covered my ears as the tears began to flow down my cheeks. I walked toward the bathroom. The door was open. Umi stood naked in the tub as Kareema and Miriam poured hot water on her. Umi was not Umi. I screamed. I felt myself being picked up in the air by my brother. My arms reached for my mother as I cried and screamed, Umi over and over, but my brother continued to carry me away. He put me in the room I shared with my sisters. Before he closed the door, he held me for a minute. Then when he thought I was calm enough he laid me down, and then sleep overtook me. I hiccupped and cried myself to sleep with the vision of Umi playing in my little head.

Like Nothing Ever Happened?

I fell asleep but woke up to the smell of spaghetti. The room was dark. I could see light peek from the bottom of the door. I walked to the door and opened it. The light bothered my eyes. I began to rub my eyes as I walked toward the noise in the living room. Al Green was playing on the record player. You Ought To Be with Me blasted through the tiny project apartment in Brooklyn we all shared. I walked through the hall, taking a glance at the closet where my sister had cried earlier. As I stood in front of the kitchen, I saw Umi gliding lightly, dancing to the music as she sang and cooked. I looked for some traces of what happened earlier that day, but what I got when she looked at me was a warm smile.

Aisha was in the kitchen helping Umi cook. I felt myself being lifted into the air. Abu had picked me up and was tickling me. When Kareema heard me laughing she called out to me, Rashida, come here, said Kareema, who was in the living room with Miriam and Zainab. It was as if every thing that happened earlier was a figment of my imagination, but I knew it was true. Abu put me down, and I walked into the living room with my other siblings. Kareema picked me up and began to dance with me. The Spinners played Could It Be I’m Falling in Love on the record player. It was Umi’s favorite song, and she came out from the kitchen into the living room.

Umi loved to dance and sing. As a girl she’d been a dancer and a singer until she had us. When we all came together as a family it was as if the world outside did not exist. Those were the times I always will remember and cherish the times when we would put music on, dance in the house and try to forget about what happened by listening to music. The only thing was that at six years old, I was already seeing and experiencing things that would scar me for the rest of my life.

Me and the Siblings…

Being Muslims

All I knew was my siblings and family members, the only people that Umi kept in contact with after she became Muslim. My brother Malike was the oldest; then came Miriam, Aisha, Kareema, Zainab, and me, Rashida. Just writing the name brings back everything that happened when we were living life as Muslims. We learned discipline and obedience in the Abdul Raheem household. But sometimes too much discipline can make a child rebellious. Later, when they are on their own and free, they may lose control.

Umi was very strict, and she did not tolerate anything from my sisters. We were born and raised in Brooklyn. Life in Suffolk Projects was not easy, and being Muslim was another strike. I never had a doll or certain toys because Umi said they were the Devil. We never went to school on Fridays, and pork was definitely not in our diet. Umi made sure we ate very healthy and kept us very clean. Although we were Muslim, Umi still listened to the music that made her feel happy. Even though we didn’t have every name-brand thing, Umi did what she could to make sure we were taken care of. Sometimes we didn’t get new things at all. Hand-me-downs were a favorite in our home.

Living in the projects and being a Muslim meant a fight literally every day. I remember one girl named Rose. Rose always had to find some way to fight with my sisters. We were taught to mind our business and did not socialize with too many people in the neighborhood. We did have a few friends that we really conversed with or visited who were not from our religion. But most of our friends were Muslims, just like we were, and together we had fun all the time as children.

If you ask me, I think it was the parents who were forcing religion on some children who really just wanted to live life and be free in a sense. Some loved the religion and stuck to it, but it would be a lie if I told you that I and my siblings really liked living the Muslim life. We never celebrated any holidays, and we hated covering our heads. You don’t know how it feels for people to call you baldheaded when you had a head full of hair you couldn’t show them. The only people who knew we had hair were the people who were closest to us. My two older sisters had beautiful, long, jet-black hair that reached the middle of their back. Even Umi’s hair was very long; she just kept it covered. I always had my hair done in cornrows. Of course, my sisters were the ones who always did my hair.

Living as Muslims was as if we lived in another world, different from others. My mother tried her best to shield us from the world. In the process of trying to shield us, she realized that we were going to have to live our lives sooner or later. I don’t think she was really ready for knowing the fact that her children would have to deal with society and life, sometimes with out her.

Two Spanish sisters lived next door to us in Suffolk Projects. The family was very nice to us. My mother didn’t speak with them much, but they could hear what we were going through in our apartment. Our room and the two sisters’ rooms were right next to each other. They would sometimes lend my sisters their dolls. They would bang on the wall. That was a sign that the coast was clear and to look out the window. They would sometimes tie a string around the doll’s leg or neck, swing it back and forth and my sisters would catch the doll, and we would play with it until the next day. I used to be so happy when I saw the dolls. Our windows were close enough for them to sometimes reach out and grab the doll. Umi never knew that we had the dolls.

Looking for some traces of the Devil, I decided one day to put the doll in the bathroom and turn the lights out. Umi said the Devil lived in the bathroom. When I stood in the darkened bathroom and nothing happened, I knew then that my mother was saying something she was learning from the religion. But I knew that if we ever did get caught with the dolls, the punishment would be worth it. I felt that every boy and girl should have a toy that makes them happy. I felt that I was robbed a little bit of childhood memories and thoughts that would put a smile on your face. But I did enjoy some things I can think back on and smile about.

Beautiful Lucille (Umi)

Lucille Burnes was her name before she became Liliah Abdul Raheem. Umi was very beautiful. Born in Savannah, Georgia, Umi grew up in a very respectable home. You could tell by the way she spoke and carried herself. Umi had a flawless complexion that made even her closest friends envious. With dark brown bedroom eyes, she stood out from the rest. She would make many men’s heads turn. Her smile was warm, and her heart was broken, but I would not know that until I became a woman. Umi stood five feet one inch. She was not very tall, but to me as a child she seemed very tall. Umi had long, beautiful hair that was not as thick as every one else’s. Her hair was not black but pretty shades of light and dark brown. Umi always smelled of the nice-smelling oil that she bought from the Muslim vendor. Sometimes she would get it from Abu, because he sold it too. She made it through high school but didn’t go to college because she was pregnant with her first child. I know that Umi and her mother had a falling-out about something, but I was a kid. I just knew I hated to see them when they were at each others’ throats. Umi looked more like her mother than her two siblings. Put them together and they looked like twins. Umi had the high cheekbones and nose that showed her Indian heritage. My great-grandmother was part Cherokee and black.

Umi left the South and moved to Philadelphia with my grandmother for a brief time. I’m not sure when she came to New York City, but that is where I was born and raised. Although Umi was going through what she was going through, she never let anyone else know wherever she lived that she really was dealing with mental depression. That was something I would not be able to diagnose until I got much older. Back then I just thought she had two personalities, like the girl in the movie Sybil played by Sallie Fields. But boy was I wrong—things were more serious than I thought.

The White Dog

I woke up one morning to sunlight hitting my tiny cheeks. I sat up on the bed that was on the floor and began to look around the room. Everyone was gone. I jumped up and opened the door. Slowly I turned the knob, not wanting to let Umi or anyone else hear me. I tiptoed to Malike’s room… empty. My little mind began to race back and forth. Umi’s door was closed, but I could hear her moving around. I walked into the living room. Nothing—everyone was gone. I was left alone with Umi, and that scared me. I loved my mother so much, but I was scared to be left alone with her because of the fear she might hurt me or herself. Even though I was only six years old, I knew there was something wrong with my mother. At times she was the mother I knew, loving, caring, protective, and then sometimes she was some strange women who didn’t really care, who was jealous and sometimes envious of her own daughters.

I heard Umi’s door open. I stood still for a minute, but she heard me.

Rashida, said Umi, calling out from the back where she was.

Yes, Umi I said. I began to walk toward her bedroom. I stood in front of my mother that day, not knowing or expecting what she was going to do. Umi began to take off my clothes. Then she walked me toward the bathroom. Umi turned on the shower and then told me to get in. Umi took off her clothes and proceeded to get in the tub with me. I was so nervous and frightened. I was hoping someone would come in the apartment, but no one did. Turning the shower off, Umi dried me off. We walked to the back and into her room. Umi told me to take off the towel and get into her bed. I got into Umi’s bed. Her bed was big, and it was a mattress, not foam like Malike’s and the one bed that was in the girls’ room. The mattress we had was lumpy and old.

The sheets were cold to the touch as I slipped under the covers. Umi got into the bed and began to pray in Arabic. She was naked as well. I didn’t know what to expect next from Umi. She never touched inappropriately; we just lay there looking at the door. Then she said to me, Look, look at the door, in a frightened voice. I looked at Umi, and it was if she saw a ghost. I looked at the door and didn’t see anything. Then she said it again. Look, look… there are white-dog feet passing back and forth at the door.

When I looked, I still didn’t see anything but the sun shining through the bottom of the closed door. I said, I don’t see anything, Umi.

Look again! The white-dog feet are passing back and forth in front of the door.

Then I took another look—still nothing. Just to satisfy what was ailing her mind I said, Yes, yes, I see it.

Umi began to pray again, and then she held me close, not letting go. I closed my eyes tightly shut, fearing that I would see what she was seeing. Then she let me go, told me to get dressed and to go outside and play with my friends. I was so scared, I jumped up, wrapped the towel around me, and ran into the girls’ room. But before I opened the door I got a little nervous. I looked and didn’t see anything, and then I went into the room. I was trying to leave that apartment so fast that I put