Black Sheep

By Danyel Depth

The quiet side that resides in such a unique individual…one who speaks when spoken to, this is the discipline of a dark skin. Survival of the fittest but this did not exist amongst the darker than you list…even in my own I stood but I was too dark to be presented, as one who is an apprentice, but the truth lies within …speak when spoken to is how you blend…quietly I wait for my turn, spoken in the rhythm of my hidden song, that one day, I, Danyel Depth, may finally be able to speak through the pain of my poetry…my story!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Sep 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781982274504

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Copyright © 2021 Danyel Depth.

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ISBN: 978-1-9822-7449-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-7450-4 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 09/29/2021

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 The Ugly Duckling

Chapter 3 The Process of Elimination

Chapter 4 Back Track

Chapter 5 Highschool

Chapter 6 Adult Life

Chapter 7 Marriage

Chapter 8 The Fight Back

CHAPTER ONE

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ONCE UPON A TIME, IS what one might want to start off with but why do that when it’s still that time, I’m still considering myself to be the black sheep considering I’m still the darkest child of five with my mother and stepfather. This did cause controversy growing up in my era or time. I grew up in being dark skinned was not a gift it was more like a curse. I still believe we live in a world of isms in all cultures and races, but I can only speak for myself in this regard. It’s no longer a secret that I am obviously the darker and darkest child of the five I grew up with so feeling different was easy and being treated differently was becoming easy but no doubt, it was still an internal struggle growing up. The world still teaches systematic racism in my opinion because if you do not look the part then you’re not considered a qualified candidate in society. Just ask yourself the question of how many dark-skinned women are in high rising positions or out in the forefront in most offices. Now that’s not statistics speaking but rather experience in trying to be that dark skinned woman in a high rising position even among the Black race itself. How does one move forward through life if the color of appearance is not fitting to those that have the authority or power to place a qualified person in such a position? It’s one thing to ward off racism from another race but when you have to fight it within your own race, it can be quite exhausting as well as overwhelming with the idea that your own treats you like you’re not part of the fold and your presence could potentially bring division among the elite. How hard does one have to work before being recognized for your ability to do a job rather than basing it on skin color? This has always been one of the most mind-blowing concepts to me among our own Black people. But on the other hand, you must consider what the person of lighter skin feels like being in their position. From my perspective, I believe that this is some form of privilege embraced among Black people to survive and be accepted in society. I call it the survival of the fittest. Imagine having to deny or denounce certain family members just to get the approval to make ends meet. Now, I would be wrong if I did not say that I really didn’t care to understand at the time because my thought process was definitely, you have no idea what it’s like to be me! But, in being me, I did have a sense of understanding being that I was experiencing my ism within the clan. I strongly believe that one must give or show mercy if it is the desire of his/her to receive or be shown the same mercy if not more in return so, this is what I would call the beginning of my beginning, the end is yet to come.

Some say the truth hurts, but what is a man/woman(s) truth? Only he or she can answer that…truthfully! I would say my truth hurts; that which was brought upon by other’s choices or my own but what does it profit a person to build on truth? Everything! At least, that is what I believe.

The story of my life begins with the freshest memory of understanding pain both mental and physical. I never understood the methods of my parents’ discipline and how this happened to be reasonable but considering the history of Black Americans coming out of slavery, this is a state of mind. I noticed in my latter years that the methods of discipline in most Black families came from the way our ancestors were treated for years and this simply passed on through the years. I don’t know if the way we (Blacks) were treated became a way of life that has cursed our people for generations to come but the fact of the matter is, this method of abuse is a form of control to keep slaves in line and this very method is what you see taking place in our families today. Discipline with belts, extension cords, and damn near anything that could bring about some form of pain to comply is the very thing you still see in Black families today. I experienced this for many years growing up and used the same method with my own children until I began to see the depth of physical pain at the hands of the those you love. The same resistance and feeling of seeking safety, is something real in the mind of the one on the receiving end of it. Even though this method works it still takes the choice away from the individual receiving the sting of physical discipline. You learn quite quickly how to relieve your body from the pain it is feeling during the time of physical discipline as well as mental harshness. Being the person on the receiving end of pain I often asked myself what did I do to cause me to be hit or hurt in any way and what should I do to keep this from happening again. Every time I experienced this form of discipline, I always felt horrible inside like, I was really a bad kid but imagine how slaves felt and they knew their master didn’t really care because they had a plantation to run and replacing the slave that is resisting or making too many mistakes was not a problem at all but having to be replaced is the fear because how do you know if the replacement is because you were about to die at the hands of your slave master so, survival instincts kick in and you either begin complying for the fear of being physically hurt beyond recovery. Fear is installed in us to cause one to comply with whatever but, that same fear can backfire when your back is against the wall.

I have always believed that words are just as powerful as beatings with belts and such because think of what inspires a person to react when words are used. I always felt like I responded to my name very well when called in the distance that I can hear, especially, if that call of my name had some base to it, now surely I would have loved the soft call of my name but the tone of the call to my name determined how I was going to react or respond; with fear or bliss and most of the time it was fear that answered the call because there is going to be some form of pain involved when I reach the destination from the call. The way my parents, especially my stepdad, would call our names simultaneously we knew, as kids, whether this was going to be good or bad so mental preparation on the way became crucial to the point we had to discuss a plan on the way to our painful destination. I can’t say that I’m opposed to physical discipline as we (our country) use this same method of control to do it’s due diligence so, yes, it is a working method but how do you know when enough is enough? I guess the person on the receiving end will make that determination by either taking it or fighting back, either way it will have a consequence.

Growing up as kids we often were disciplined by belts or extension cords and I tell you what, this is not an uncommon practice for poor Black families. I cannot speak for all families but in my experience, most of the kids I grew up with experienced this same form of discipline as we would often share stories and battle scars, it almost became a way of life for us because this, we believed, made us tough and resilient but it also made us ready for war with the world and each other. Hell, I got so many whippings growing up I just stopped crying and became angry because at some point teaching has to come with discipline to get an understanding of right and wrong but the person behind the belt seems to have all the power just like the person behind the gun. We grew up fighting with and for each other and eventually began resisting many of the disciplinary methods given to us by our parents because at this point we grew tired of pain therefore, not experiencing it all due to it. It is amazing how the mind responds to pain, my sister Destiny is the third oldest child whereas I was the second and Matilda was the first born of my mother’s house (womb), and Destiny was not much of a talker she was rather quiet compared to Matilda and I, but she taught us how to run from the belt whippings by either grabbing the belt or running up under the kitchen table to prevent herself from being hit but as Matilda and I watched this we also saw the extreme consequence of showing this behavior so, we did not choose to do this often, if at all so, that is when we learned how to take care of each other because Destiny’s pain tolerance didn’t seem to be as high as ours so we designed a plan to either pad ourselves with towels under our clothes, that never worked out,