Honest H.O.E.: Honesty Over Everything

By Tillie Porter

This raw and unvarnished memoir is about the life of Tillie Porter from the age of nine through twenty-three. Tillie is from the streets; she worked as a stripper as well as a shot caller, dealing with people in high places. The book is about the hard times she went through and the lessons she learned in the process of beating the odds and overc

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Oct 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781685150327

Tillie Porter

Tillie Porter is a native of Omaha, Nebraska. She has been a nurse for the past 16 years. Starting out on the streets, she has experienced many trials and tribulations, and has made it her mission to turn her pain into purpose. She enjoys dancing, working out, and socializing, and especially loves spending time with her seven-year-old daughter and their spoiled cat. Tillie has always been a great writer and an avid reader. She is currently hard at work on her second book.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Real Talk

M

ama and daddy had 5 girls. When they divorced and set aside their marital issues things changed fast. They remained friends and were very respectful and cordial toward one another. They would have their moments, but it didn’t last long. Believe me Daddy wanted to be home so badly, but Mama wasn’t having it. His later marriage on that account, was by default and default only in my eyes. I remained a daddy's girl, and our dad still played an active positive role in our lives. When Dad left, Mama started partying even more than before. Sometimes she’d be gone out of town up in Milwaukee somewhere, and then she would call and check on us. Mama was a God-fearing woman, and she knew we had the house on lock. We all knew what Big Red rules were, and they were as follows; 1. Keep this motherfucking house clean, Don’t answer her door for no goddamn body we don’t know, If somebody call asking about her…hang up the motherfucking phone, No hanky panky. (I hated that slogan it made me cringe), Stick together, and Don’t bring no shit to my motherfucking door…if you do, then I’m going to get involved, and when I get involved it's going to be a whole other motherfucking problem, and in that order. My mom just like my dad they didn’t sugarcoat anything. If we had issues we would have sit-downs as a family, squash our beef and then move on. Our parents also let us speak on our issues within the passion that we felt, and yes, we were allowed to say very few curse words during our discussions and only during our discussions. They understood the power of venting. The rest is history. When dad left the men came, and when they came, they came in the droves, no capping. I was about 8 years old jumping headfirst in these North Omaha streets, there no longer was a curfew, and believe me for a child to know that they literally got full reign of their freedom is a whole other world. At this time, we moved up into the pink house, because we went from Vietnam Projects, Franklin Street up from the old bar Bali Hi to 28th and Burdette Infamously known as The Pink House. It was nestled on the east side exactly 1 street down from Pleasant View Projects East. Some nights Mama would be out of town or sometimes in town. My sisters and I, along with the Arkansas girls that lived around the corner from us would all link up, and we all dealt with one another the long way. They were a house full of girls and so were we, but the good thing about all of us, was that we all had a deep respect for one another, when we had food and they didn’t… we gave some to them, when they had food and we didn’t… they gave, and we even settled the beefs we had with each other, dead in each other's faces. Truths were spilled and told, and we had to suck that shit up and move on, and we did that amongst ourselves. One time a situation spilled over from my older sister and one of the main sisters of the Arkansas girls, so much to where our mothers were getting ready to fight, and the beef continued down all the way to us little sisters, which caused hell with their little sisters all behind our older sister's beef. Apparently, my older sister while stationed in the Bottoms handling her business, finessed one of ole girl tricks in the process. At that time big sis didn’t know who all Kay dealt with, they both had so many dudes on their neck, I lost count, and to be honest at that time this nigga from Little Rock, Arkansas, was crazy as hell behind Kay, he stayed in the Bottoms and was a Rollin 20's Blood indeed. We didn’t understand why the hell she was tripping; we all knew he took good care of her, I couldn’t wait to grow up and get one even better, because I was hungry too. Moreover, Big sis, and Kay's situation became so bad to the point to where my own mom had to make a OG call. She summoned Kay (a.k.a. K) and her mother to the house. The Arkansas girls had to grow-up fast as well; the streets had taken their mother in such a way that it caused her to go blind. It was all about circumstances. As kids this had nothing to do with us, but only later to find out, she left my dad because of our wellbeing for the future, more than I could bare to understand at such a young age. It was all together about 5 girls and one boy of the Arkansas crew. During summer nights in the wee hours of the morning sometimes we either jumped the interstate that divided the Bottoms from the other hoods running westbound, or we would walk the Lake Street bridge to get to the Bottoms. The Bottoms stayed live! I loved the smell of North Omaha on hot summer nights, the air was thick with the smell of gasoline from engines running and stopping because the traffic flow was so heavy, and sometimes it was mixed with burning rubber from the men riding in the low riders of that day, doing cookies for fun in the streets stopping all traffic and risking their lives for a moment of pleasure, mixed with the blasted sounds of the R&B lovers on their motorcycles and cars. At any moment one could hear the blasting of slow jams, we stopped and wined our bodies to the slow beat, I would sing along, Don’t Goooo, Don’t gooo, don’t leave me, I looove you sooo… we all sung in unison, not only that, but it would be so packed out at night as we walked on our missions we would slide up to my cousin's house in the process since she stayed on 16th in Victor. This was mama's first cousin - she had the rawest parties outside of Mama and Daddy's house parties. We would slide on them through the back door, and all she had was red lights all through her house. It would be so dark as we walked through, I always took my time, they would be dancing intensely to the rap music of that time… There was also smells, and aromas roaming all through the air, the smell of neighborhood's barbeques that really never shut down, folks grilled all day and all night, but we sometimes had to go down there and grab Big sis from hustling all night, it was crazy because Big sis was Crippin it, she was indeed a Hill Top Cripette (a girl Crip). She had to fight one of the best fighters from Hill Top. God rest his soul, the night she told us he finally jumped her in, I was pissed for a while because I felt he was a bully, I gained understanding much later. She was allowed in the Bottoms because we were originally from the Bottoms, our Bloodline runs over 5 generations down there, so it was automatic, and we had double good connections. We dealt with one of The Most notorious Native American/Black Americans families that had almost all of Kountze Park area on lock, RIH Cadillac! They were always welcomed in our home, always love and respect from their family to ours. June Bugg was my first crush and like an older brother, with his fine native self. June Bug kept a smile on my face, he always stopped what he was doing when he came into our home, he would always ask how I was doing, hell I was mesmerized. He had that golden tone complexion, with those dark pretty eyebrows naturally arched. Dark lashes on the top and the bottom, he stayed flamed up and ready for anything. I watched his every move, and I learned that he too showed his sweet side to very few, because I bared witness to him going from 0-10 in a heartbeat… From one native to another. Although I was still young, dudes knew that I would still flirt my ass off when I had the chance to really shoot my shot. Although Mom was in and out of town, we knew exactly what she wanted. Every time she came home; homework was finished, clothes were ironed and ready for the next day, food was cooking, and the house would be clean, very clean. There was one portion of the house that nobody was allowed in, it was beautiful and off limits. Mama had perfectly selected pieces of furniture in our living room, it was literally like walking into a museum. She had floor style black Jaguars that were Porcelain and life-sized, the eyes of the black Jaguars were diamonds, the mantle that was cream colored mixed with the look of Metallic was all Marble, and along the mantle were aligned with Crystals and Lalique. Mama had and still does have exquisite taste. When mama came home, she had not a clue that just two days ago her house including her off limit room, was the main kick-it spot in our area of town. We were known as the Hostess with the Mostess. In those two days and as always, we split up the chores, to get ready for our kick-it night. The Arkansas girls would be there too, sometimes it would be at their house and sometimes ours. The Pleasant view and Hill Top dudes always came through. I was the greeter; I was at the door and would see men both young and old before the other girls. My eyes would pierce through their eyes, and they wouldn’t want to look away. I knew then I was locking in. I was still a virgin but masturbating at the age of 6. I learned this behavior from a young white boy that attended one of my family members’ daycares, and when I saw him doing it, I was so turned on, I wanted to do it right then and there, but that didn’t happen, not there it didn’t. We had the wildest nights. I was young so I was on constant watch. I was the designated enforcer, I always had to walk the yard, watch the front and the back doors. But I rarely had to do it alone. There was this very handsome Crip, that almost every young girl and even the older women wanted. He had so much respect from everybody and respect for all too. Very quiet and honest, to me. Cordae is all I will call him. Sometimes I would ask him how he handles it all. He would just look at me as if he had a lot to say and just shake his head, while helping me watch all angles of the house. His homies and the homegirls did their thing, which consisted of whatever was clever, because we had ourselves and there were no adults. Where Salem Church and Walgreens stand today, not many years ago stood one of The Most Notorious Hoods; Hilltop Projects (HTGC; Hill Top Gangster Crip}. That was on 30th and Lake Street all the way back southwards to 33rd on Parker Street. Within that same vicinity sat Pleasant View East and Pleasant View west. All three ran together respectfully. According to J. Wallace the projects was put together to protect the weak, and to protect the homies. They never left the hood in these times, and some are still there today. He stated I remember going to a party full of bloods and was shocked by everybody in the party being flamed up! The P's was all I knew besides the other half of my mom's family being from 29th Street! The girls from the Projects, kept the dudes together, through the hood parties, and brought those that didn’t yet know each other together. It could have been someone getting out from doing a bid and had to be introduced to the new way of life. We can never forget Hilltop because most of the people in North Omaha at one time or another came to live or visit someone they knew up in there. The Project men had many stores on lock, and I can remember as a little girl running on the east side of Hilltop to catch the school bus with our homies. Sometimes they would come to ours and sometimes we would go to theirs, either one was always lit, because everybody knew each other, and if you didn’t you were already peeped out by somebody, believe it or not getting off the school bus at either bus stop was litty every time. Somebody was always fucking somebody, everybody was grinding, and it was literally a common understanding of us all. Most of us respected each other's boundaries. The Crips back then had respect for their elders - we all did for that matter, and they would help disabled people with things they needed, like carrying their groceries in the house. The project men didn’t tolerate disrespect. This group of Crips and Crippettes were very modest and sometimes the humblest. I remember OG/Legend T-WACC a member that not only was a leader of Hill Top Projects but one of the Most Respected, the Shot Caller/Influencer of that time once holding the grounds of the 7 Deadly Seeds, which means they pushed shit back, and had shit pushed back, they handled things beyond the yellow tape you dig? WACC had to jump headfirst in the game, and it wasn’t by choice, just like it was for everybody from the hood, it was out of SURVIVAL, he had to beat the odds and maintain. He did a 10-year bid and changed his whole life around for the better, he didn’t let the streets break him. On some nights he was allowed to take his frustrations of the world out on me in any way he pleased. His whole entire family was a part of this hood, and this family is one of the biggest in North Omaha. Imagine every male that comes from this family got hands, and the girls do too. These were the Swifts. Originating out of East St Louis, my grandmother and Grandma Swift lived next door In Vietnam Projects together back in the 70's and from there, a bond was formed. They partied together, my mother babysat a lot of them, and she dated one of the oldest sons as well. I myself, dealt with the Infamous Don, who taught me how to square up on site, push it to the limit, and to remain confident. A real one for real. He carried that everywhere he went, At one point he and I was to record our first porno, going too hard in the paint a few mornings and nights, I’m sure we would have had a number 1 seller by now, but I digress. Their family too never hesitated to call a spade just what it is. A Spade! Very active family, loving, and very fun, many exquisite men and women come from this family. REAL RECOGIGNIZE REAL…. THAT'S ALWAYS! Every last one of the men never left a chick unsatisfied. Trust me when I say not only the family but every dude from the P's for the most part were laying pipe. Never heard nor experienced anything less than 9 ½ inches for REAL! Never crossed paths with anything less. Stamina and thickness was always available. Never a dull moment, they would have us crawling up the walls and crawling down for way more. Chick would proclaim their weekdays like a shift saying, Girl I got Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and another saying, Well girl I don’t mind taking Tuesday, Thursday Saturday, Sunday just let him do his own thing. You hear me? There were boundaries! Although they were gang banging, they helped the project community keep an eye on the kids, knew who to take the kid to when they were acting up, Crips would break up unnecessary fights or sometimes would watch if the issue leveled up past reasoning. The difference from today's generation is back then they fought with their hands, and let bygones be bygones. When it was all said and done everyone walked away with their life. One Crippette, who was a beauty, lost her life behind a parking lot space in Hill Top years ago, that affected our community greatly. She was and still will be greatly missed, she was loved by the men in a sisterly way, and for some in a way of admiration. Chucky was a dark skinned beautiful young lady that attended Benson High School. Her eyes were big, almond shape, very innocent, and confident at the same time. You see Chucky sat like a lady, with her crop blue baby tee, very petite in size, her blue dickies would be creased straight down and very crisp, she even smelled good and was so humble, but we never slept on her, or any chick from there. Within an instant they knew exactly what to do when things went down and see even then when the men said go left, Cripettes went left, if they said go right, they went right, there was still order. Men from the Projects didn’t allow no chick to ever disrespect them and not follow orders. Yes, the men had it on lock and the women followed. I would love seeing her at 7-11 gas station om 30th in Lake Street with the men from the P's. The men acted a little bit less harsh when the women were around, which is very respectful, that's because these men also respected their own female family members. Yes, the mothers and fathers in the community really did raise our youth up in teaching them about the basics of respect of self and others. Hilltop was not only the biggest Crip hood, but 40th Ave ran right behind them. These two hoods once had a very old beef, word has it that beef was settled in the Pen. The projects and 40th Ave are the two biggest Crip hoods in North Omaha. One night back and 2005 my little sister and I were chilling in the hood with two of our homeboys. Norman and I sat upfront shooting the shit while sis and Tawan sat in the back chopping it up. We called the cops rollers, so when one walked up on the car you can imagine that was the last person we wanted to see. Who's driving? He said. Norman gave him a look of disguise before answering none of us. We were fighting to keep from laughing. Why are y’all out so late? the cop countered We not tired. Norman said. He was a little annoyed by now. Cece slightly kicked his seat, I was about dead. We were minding our business but this shit wasn’t brand new. They needed a reason to fuck with us so they ended up arresting one of the homies. Us other three went up to the porch to wait on all the others to tell them what happened. Next thing you know the homies walk up to the porch six deep. Not even five minutes after the homies got there, the rollers hit the block with their lights off. We eased back a bit, they jumped out of the Unmarked car and yelled PROJECTS, PROJECTS, PROJECTS! We all came out and started cursing their asses out. Shit starters! Back then it was clear they didn’t want our souls to know peace. They would shamelessly provoke us and had a big hand in stirring wars in our hoods. Moreover, the project dudes had the hood stores on lock, back then there was 7-11 that sat right on 30th and lake, you were and still are bound to see somebody, because the traffic is ferocious, imagine this almost every day especially in the summer being like Omaha day. 7-11 was infamous for everything being in heavy rotation that concludes of lots of extracurricular activities, to say the least, it was the Mitochondria of it all. And I must say. One summer night in 1993, my sisters and I had to make a quick run to 7-11 for Mama, so we all got suited and booted, we all said our prayers, as we always did. We left out; Mama's words to us were, Get there and get back". We left with our favorite stick woody. Woody would be used for dogs and people. Every single time we had to go to 7-11 we had to check our clothes because too much of a rival's color could get us in a confrontation and or getting killed. Moreover, as soon as we entered the parking lot, it was literally like lights camera action, cars and people everywhere, and I mean everywhere. You could hear that thug flow playing extremely loud from somebody's car speakers mixed with the latest R&B of that time being blasted from the Crip's personal boom box. They would be watching everything and everybody - even kids were monitored. I remember looking over at the crowd of them posted up right in front of the store, and I saw this one guy that was light skinned and his brother that was sexy chocolate known as Terry and Kerry, they were fraternal twins and had a zero-tolerance reputation. I remember going home just dreaming about them. Although I was so young, I have always loved the company of older men… Furthermore, later that next day in the early afternoon, at about 2pm, a young blood was caught slipping over at 7-11 and with my own eyes, I saw only this man blasted through the front window of 7-11. He busted the whole glass frame from the front by the car supplies all the way back to where they made them bomb ass Slurpee's, and that was far, just for being in the wrong area… It was wrong then, and it's wrong now. Yes, it's understood that rivals are rivals, but it should never be so bad to where a man's life has to be taken because he's a rival and it should be vice versa with the bloods as well. Hell, we all need a pass. Guess what? When shit hits the fan and our lives are in a blender meaning we going through all types of shit. For example, having to use the little money you had to bail bro out, bro gets out and your baby mama or baby daddy family/friend give you what they might have to help you get on. Then boom! Your homie just got killed, your baby mama going through labor, you just found out your homie not making bail and have to do the whole bid plus 10. Or your people just got indited etc. Have we stopped to think about HOW that rivalry ended up in your neighborhood, because of one of these issues and not no Gang Banging shit, and if so, what if that were you?. Think about it, or your little brother, little sister, best friend, son, or daughter. Then where is the mercy for your fellow man….Where? When you know better, you do better. Now you know. Think about it, and act on it.

Back at the Pink house Mama was once again getting ready to leave town again. Mama went like every other weekend. I was ready for the extra freedom, I had other things on my mind like the two 15 years old on my neck. I was already spoiled rotten by my dad, and I was and still am a daddy's girl. So, for some reason I wasn’t desperate for dudes like that… I was just infatuated with them, I always thought they were one of the best things The Most high has ever created. Guys and many others would be at our door step and we would be having bagging sessions, playing hide and go get it, or hide and seek, although back then when we found each other we would just kiss and grind until we are all extra hot and sweaty and then we walk out like nothing never happened, ponytail all wild, his shirt buttoned up the wrong way, just crazy, and everybody looking at you like ‘yeah fuckin right’. One of these 15 year old's named Fonzo. Fonzo would just stare at me. He had rich hazel eyes, 5’10 and caramel complexioned. He would sometimes pull me against him and squeeze the sides of my hips so tight. He’d look deeply at me, almost through me and I would think about how it would feel if I just let him ram me. I’d imagine what it would be like to hear him breathing heavily and grunting. Knowing that I was the one pleasuring him. I would get so wet thinking about it that sometimes I’d have to go and change my panties. On the other hand there was Lil Blood or Lil B is what we called him. He’d watch me like prey. He was very sharp, and smart, different dresser, very quiet and had all types of good qualities. But for some odd reason I believed that if I ever did get with him, he would beat my ass for no reason at all, and later on in life he did choke me out one time, but more on that later. When Lil B would stare at me, the seriousness in his face felt like he was staring in my soul. He wanted me bad. When I told him he had to wait, he respected my wishes. I respected him because he respected me… The more Mama would be with her new man Al, the more she would be out of town, and the more she left, the more promiscuous we all became. I remember my older sis wanting to smash this dude so badly she used a plastic grocery bag and had the nerve to tie a rubber band around it. Hell, I had seen why she took such a crazy risk, that man's pipe was so long and thick. I wanted to tell her, I got next. I already knew in my mind that when I started fucking, I was going to be a beast. I had already taught myself how to dance, and when I did dance it wasn’t just to a beat. I danced to every word, and every sound. I had this craft of dancing down to a science, and every tune of the instruments. I loved my dance moves. The key to dancing and being on beat, is instruments of the song so no matter what a person is rapping about, you will always be on point, as long as you stay on point. Furthermore after Dad and Mama's split, we ended up having to move into Pleasant View Projects with my mom's tight homegirl/sister, we called her aunt Angie. It would be seven of us total moving into her one-bedroom project unit. I would miss 28th in Burdette terribly because there were so many memories from that home front. The day we moved in with Auntie, (May God rest her soul) was a hot summer evening in late May, school was ending for the summer. I will never forget it was close to about 5pm. When we went there, we didn’t have much, but what we did have was each other, our bags and clothes, along with a few other items. As soon as we unloaded our belongings, me and my two older sisters were out the apartment and in them Project streets. It was home to us, so we already knew everybody, and they knew us. As I walked from my older sister homegirl unit (Priscilla), I could see from afar my two baby sisters playing on the front porch of Aunt Angie's Door. I knew Ebony would be all day and Big Sis homegirl Cilla, her little sister kind of weirded me out back then so I really didn’t deal with her, she turned out to be cool later in life real shit. As we aged, I learned that she was just coy. As I started to walk back… To my right in the parking lot I could see several cars start to pull up real slow. About 4 cars initially and the occupants of the vehicle looked like they weren’t on no Bullshit at ALL! As I walked and stared at them, I saw a group