Life as a Ghetto Child: Remembering the Abuse

By Ghetto Child

This book is about the life of five black children who were raised in the ghetto and who were subjected to abusive hands. I can recall so many times I was beaten, but those that I’m sharing are some of the worst ones from my memory. Verbal and mental abuse was an everyday event. Three of us survived and are still alive today to tell the story. I hope that by sharing my story, I can help someone else.

Please speak up if you suspect abuse; do not look the other way. Below is a list of national hotlines. Please call if you need help. You can remain anonymous.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jun 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9781532075858

Ghetto Child

There were so many incidents of abuse that I could not put into this book. What I did share with the reader were some of the worst scenarios I could recall. By writing this book I am hoping that it brings an awareness to the subject of childhood abuse and that the reader will use the hotline if you suspect that abuse is going on. Remember a child is at the mercy of its abuser and they, cannot speak for themselves.

Book preview

LIFE

AS A

GHETTO

CHILD

REMEMBERING THE ABUSE

GHETTO CHILD

43513.png

LIFE AS A GHETTO CHILD

REMEMBERING THE ABUSE

Copyright © 2019 Ghetto Child.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

iUniverse

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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.

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

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-5320-7569-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-7585-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019906076

iUniverse rev. date: 06/26/2019

Contents

Welcoming Page

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Prelude

Let the Hunger Games Begin

Hard times in the city

A new discovery

Knowing the real

The Narrow Escape

Show me the money!

Street life in the city

Entrepreneurship

He was just a friend

The first of many incidents

The Ring Ding

The Institution

We are family

The Wave

A long way till daylight

Sing…sing out loud!

Good Times

The humanity of it all

The candy man can

Light skin vs brown

Welfare reveal

Madness to the Method

The Talk

Heartbeat, you make me feel, so weak"

A Cool Breeze

Block party

Good Ole Bugsy

Come and get your ice cream

Growing up

Resurrection Day

The Neighbors

The Fortification

Ignorance is not bliss!

Dinner time

The end of a Tyranny

The grips of flagrant life

Itinerate Preacher

Finally getting to know you!

Authors notes:

Epilogue

Last words as the Author

Welcoming Page

As the author of this book I wrote it in the simplest form, and in my own language…the language of a city girl. I did it this way so that others can see that they too can tell their story. I did not have the book professionally edited so there will be mistakes in the manuscript. Remember I am the Ghetto child, telling my story, speaking in my own language. I never claimed to be an English major, but the context of the story should be understandable. Abuse in whatever shape or form it comes in, no matter how well-spoken you are, it is just that…abuse.

To all my folk out there still surviving in the cities, here is a big shout out to you, What up!

The names of the characters in this book were changed so that no real names would be revealed.

This is a true story about life in the ghetto and the physical and verbal abuse we endured from a man we called daddy.

National Domestic Violence Hotline staffed 24 hours a day by trained counselors who can provide crisis assistance and information about shelters, legal advocacy, health care centers, and counseling.

1-800-799-SAFE (7233) 1-800-787-3224 (TDD)

Acknowledgements

I want to thank mommy from whom I inherited the gift of writing.

I dedicate this book to my children,

to my grandchildren both now and future,

and to any animals we own!

This Ghetto Child loves you!

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Introduction

English Language Learners Definition Ghetto - a part of a city in which members of a particular group or race live usually in poor conditions: the poorest part of a city.

They moved from the suburbs to the inner city of New York in what is considered the Ghetto. This is the story of how an attraction felt by two people turned violent. Five children’s cries were never heard amidst the noise of the city as they suffered at the hands of both the physical and verbal abuse by a man, we called daddy. The power of the words’ daddy spoke over us as children, carried much weight. But as we live out our lives, we are learning how to overcome the effect those words had on us. God’s word carries an even greater weight that destroys the power and effect that the words of men can produce. To God be all the Glory!

Psa. 141: 3 – Set a watch, O LORD, before my mouth; keep the door of my lips.

Prelude

Before mommy met daddy, she was a beautiful smart, talented woman. Her skin was the color of a brown paper bag and she weighed about 150lbs with a short-cropped afro and a beautiful smile. After their union, she gained over 500 pounds, chopped off all her hair, and lost most of her teeth. She didn’t work she was a stay at home mom. She never owned a driver’s license and everything she had including the shirt on her back was provided by daddy.

Funny thing I can still see in my memory, mommy and daddy’s dentures sitting in a glass jar on the kitchen sink by the window, soaking overnight in Efferdent.

Mommy was the victim of abuse herself so we as her children shouldn’t have judged her so harshly. But we were angry with her because we felt that she didn’t protect us from this man. After daddy passed away as I was talking to mommy it was then that I realized that I still held that resentment against her. She asked me why I was talking to her in such a mean tone. I thank God that He gave us a chance talk. So, before her death we each had a chance to share and talk with her about our experiences with daddy and vice versa. It was painful for both parties, but we had a chance to ask questions like, why she didn’t just leave. Reconciliation began as we both aired out our differences. After that we forgave each other. We realized after that talk we realized that a victim is just that…a victim. I know she passed on into her new life with a purified consciousness.

Daddy was a handsome dark-skinned man with curly hair, small goatee, and bowed legs. His dressed very nicely for a man of his age. He taught us that even if we were poor, we didn’t have to wallow in it, meaning, always look your best. He was street smart, artistically talented and an entrepreneur in his day. Why this union between mommy and daddy took place I’ll never understand but out of that union came us.

In order to keep ourselves protected; I am giving us fictitious names. I also wanted to mention that I have an older half-sister, Mommy’s first daughter, but she did not live with us. There were five of us that was raised by mommy and daddy. There was my oldest brother whose name will be Carson; my older sister’s name will be Ministu; my name well I am the Ghetto child; there was my youngest sister whose name will be Missu: my younger brother’s name will be Joustice; and my youngest brother’s name will be Myeeson. Daddy was the one who named all of us except for Missu she was named by mommy. For some reason whenever mommy told us this, I always felt a little jealous of Missu.

Let the Hunger Games Begin

Abuse - it is the improper use of something; to treat a person or animal with cruelty or violence, especially regularly or repeatedly; to speak in an insulting and offensive way to or about someone- © Oxford University press.

Mommy was a stay-at-home housewife, a mother and talented lady. She liked to write short stories. She could take one word and create a whole story book out of it, that’s how talented she was. She also loved to piece together large puzzles. The more pieces the better. She hid the puzzle under the tablecloth on the kitchen/dining room table until it was done out of fear that daddy would find it and throw it in the trash. When she found the matching piece, she would glue the pieces together. When she finished the whole puzzle, she’d put it in a picture frame and hang it on the wall. She did the same with pennies. We still have the two round boards she glued and shellacked pennies onto.

Now Daddy he was a businessman who owned and drove a yellow taxi cab. On days when he worked as a taxi cab driver, he would bring the frustrations of his work home with him. Ever heard of the sea of cabs. In the city there are so many yellow cabs and gypsy cabs competing for business that it can be frustrating especially if you don’t get enough customers to make the money you need to pay the bills. So, whenever daddy came home and he didn’t make bank, or make the money he expected to make, he’d come home, tempers flared ready to hit someone. Daddy wasn’t the type to leave his anger on the job, he just didn’t hide his anger and unfortunately, the avenue of the release of that anger, was us.

Mommy’s other joy was watching the Soap Operas. Daddy hated when mommy watched the Soaps. That’s why she had to do it on the sly. His famous word to us about that was there is real life beyond that tv on the other side of that wall, and if I catch a nigger watching it, I’ll put my foot up his ass. (That last part of that sentence was daddy’s famous words). So, when daddy went to work, we were on mommy time and she was free to do whatever she wanted.

She’d have us on the lookout though and as soon as we saw the yellow cab park in front of the house, we’d let mommy know that daddy was home. That was her cue! Our job was to warn her before daddy got to the gate. She knew that more than likely he’d be in a bad mood, so this would give her time enough to either cut the television off and send us in the backyard with the dogs or upstairs to our room. Most times she’d turn the channel to the news which was his favorite program and act like she had just finished cleaning or cooking. She was smart. Sometimes she’d have us clean the house while she watched the Soaps and when daddy came home, the house was always clean.

There was one chore that we hated, and it was dusting. Mommy collected knick-knacks and salt and pepper shakers. I believe my younger brother Joustice has them now in a bin in his garage. Everywhere you looked in the house there was knick-knacks and salt-pepper shakers but most of it was in the kitchen. It seemed like she had over a million and two salt-pepper shakers. There was a large five-tier corner shelf and a china cabinet full of these little jokers. She had a window shelf, window seals, tv cabinet, and all the kitchen counter tops full of these things. The most unique ones were these horse butt mugs and a big titty lady salt and pepper shaker. Her breast were the salt and pepper shakers and we had to pick those titties up one at a time, dust it off and place it back on her chest. These things were from anywhere her sisters traveled to and her sisters traveled everywhere. She would have us take each salt and pepper shaker or knick-knack off the shelf one at a time because she did not want any of it broken. She had us dust off each one and place it on the kitchen table. Then we had to dust off the shelf itself and put each knick-knack back in the original position. Sometimes she’d sit there and watch to make sure that it was put just the way she wanted it and if it wasn’t right, she’s surely let you know. She did the same thing with the magnets on the refrigerator. It seemed so odd that she would know it we touched it. We dusted almost every other week sometime while she was watching the Soaps on tv. We hated that chore.

Anywho, daddy seemed to always come home with a bad attitude. I’m guessing it was because he dealt with all kind of people all day as a cab driver so when he came home, he did not want to deal with people including us his own family. Throughout the year’s mommy learned that lesson very well. When daddy had a bad day, he’d take it out on her every time, so she knew the drill. She also knew to get us out of harm’s way. Though she usually was the victim of his anger and daily abuse sometimes it was us.

This day mommy sent us to our room and as usual Daddy came home angry or as we now know it to be called hangry -hungry and angry at the same time, and he started yelling. He was mad. We could hear him from the steps at the top landing that lead to our room on the third floor. Now mommy usually had her routine down pat. She made sure she cooked dinner while watching soap operas so daddy’s dinner would be ready when he got home. But occasionally she’d lose track of the time and those were the days that when daddy got home, she’d send us upstairs to our room. She knew what was coming.

Well today, daddy was mad because dinner wasn’t ready. We were sent to our room and a few minutes later we smelled something good. Mommy was cooking. It smelled like hamburgers with onions. Mmm! Now mommy made these hamburgers with onions and something in the sauce that was to die for. I don’t know to this day what was in that sauce but dang it sure smelled and tasted amazing. Now, to make things worse we hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so we were waiting for that call to come downstairs for dinner. Wow, it seemed like the more we smelled food the louder our