I Haven't Always Been a Good Girl

By Carolyn Clay Bush

I Haven't Always Been a Good Girl is an extraordinary, intimate detail of the life of a young black girl who grew up in a small town in Lake Providence, Louisiana. In this book, I denote what life was like growing up in a very poor community. Facing a life that was filled with disappointments, rejections, and heartaches was not easy for me. I had to deal with so many obstacles in my life, like bullying, rape, physical abuse, mental illness, suicide, sexual assault, and the consequences of having unprotected sex. My life story tells about a lot of life's situations that I am not proud of, but none that I can change. My book is intended to empower and encourage other women not to become victims of the harsh realities that I endured, but to seek the victory in their lives through Jesus Christ.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643005423

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I Haven’t Always Been a Good Girl

Carolyn Clay Bush

ISBN 978-1-64300-540-9 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64300-541-6 (Hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-64300-542-3 (Digital)

Copyright © 2019 Carolyn Clay Bush

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books, Inc.

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

In Loving Memories of:

Preface

Introduction

Growing Up Poor in Lake Providence

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

Ending

About the Author

Dedication

As a mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, I am grateful to my mother and father that taught me the importance of family loyalty and values. I thank God for my parents when they said, No, you can’t go or be home before ten o’clock. I honor John and Matilda Morehouse Clay, who showed unconditional love to all their children, great-children and great-great grandchildren. My parents are truly my heroes and I dedicate this book to them and to my love ones.

John and Matilda Clay

Katrina Sheppard Kibby

John and Mileika Bush

Michael Allen Bush

Justice William Sheppard Sr.

Kristian Royale Kibby

Mikeyla Alina Bush

Jaleeah Wenzelle Sheppard

Justice William Sheppard Jr.

Jaden West Sheppard

Ella Clay Mays

Charlie Clay

Clarence Clay

Vinilla Clay Garrett-Sherman

Dorothy Bush-Blackwood

Clay and Morehouse Families

Acknowledgements

My Lord and Savior Jesus Christ

Dr. Joseph Patin-Baton Rouge, LA

Our Lady of the Lake Hospital and Staff

Southern University-Baton Rouge, Louisiana

Southern University Football Team-1974

Southern University Laboratory School 5th Grade Class of 1974

Northside Elementary School-Lake Providence, LA

Carver Elementary-Monroe, LA

Clara Hall Elementary-Monroe, LA

G.W. Griffin High School-Lake Providence, LA

Lake Providence High School-Lake Providence, LA

The First Street Village-Lake Providence, LA

Marissa Monteilh

Cleo Scott Brown-Rowland

Sandra Ann Williams

Brenda Bailey

Virginia D. Larry

Gloria F. Jones-Gill

Frances Loftis

Cheyenne Minor

Millicent Lipkin

In Loving Memories of:

William Carney Sheppard

John and Matilda Morehouse Clay

Earnestine Clay Hall-Ferrell

Christine Clay

Willie and Catherine Washington

Frederick Roy Clay

William Terrell Stevenson-Sheppard

Lonzy and Precious Oney

Yolanda Lewis

Sandra Thompson

Willie James and Adell Morehouse

W.C. and Odeary Robinson

Thomas and Luthise Morehouse

Cora Morehouse Elliott

Percy and Maudine Pete Morehouse

Adline Knox

Isaac Daniel and Daisy Larry

Tyrone Lewis

Pearl Stevenson Garza

Harold and Edna Johnson

Kaleb Robinson

Leo and Willie Mae Alexander

Arnold Aaron Morehouse Sr.

Willie Denise Landers-Hernandez

Vincent Morehouse

Addie M. Hampton-Morehouse

Zonia Zone Minter

Preface

I Haven’t Always Been a Good Girl is an extraordinary intimate detail of the life of a young black woman who grew up in a small town called Lake Providence. In a Time Magazine article by Jack E. White, dated August 15, 1994, Lake Providence, Louisiana, was proclaimed to be the poorest place in America. In a documentary by John D. Sutter, from CNN, it characterizes Lake Providence as the most unequal place in America. When I was growing up in Lake Providence in the early ’50s and ’60s, I knew nothing about other cities in other parts of the state; I only knew about Lake Providence. It was divided into two very unequal communities, which could be best described as the haves, the White folks and the have-nots, the Black folks. It appeared that the haves were only interested in maintaining their status quo in their socially and economically closed community.

In this book, I tell what life was like for me growing up in the have-not community. My life was filled with many disappointments and hardships. I dealt with many unpleasantries in life, like bullying, rape, physical abuse, racism, mental illness, sexual assault, and unprotected sex. My astounding journey tells about a lot of life’s circumstances that I am not proud of, but none that I can change. I would like to encourage other women not to become victims of the harsh realities that I endured, but to seek the victory in their lives through Jesus Christ.

Introduction

Writing this book has been extremely hard for me. I have been writing this book in my head for over twenty years. Today, I have finally finished it. It was a daunting task looking back over sixty years of trials, errors, heartaches, and pains. I would tell people I was writing a book and people who knew me intimately would often encourage me. I would get to a certain point in my writing just reflecting on my past, and I would get so depress. This was the first time I realized that depression was real even for people of color. As a young black girl who grew up in the church, I was told to take everything to God in prayer. No one taught me what to do when the situation got so rough and tough that I couldn’t find the strength to pray.

I chose the title of this book, I Haven’t Always Been a Good Girl, because it encompasses all the bad and good things I experienced to get to where I am today. There are a lot of things in this book that I am not proud of and a few things that might embarrass my family and friends. I can’t undo my past infidelities or change any indiscretions I made. I can take life where I am and try to make this world a better place by sharing the fact that God can save and deliver anyone from the very pit of hell. There are a lot of things you might call me after reading this book, but one of the most important things that anyone can call me is saved by the grace of God.

Growing Up Poor in Lake Providence

On May 12 or 13, 1951, John and Matilda became the proud parents of their seventh living child. They named me Catherine after my oldest brother’s wife. My mother was in her late thirties, and my father was in his early fifties when I was born. My mother had a ninth-grade education and my father had a second-grade education. My father did different odd jobs and made very little money. My mother did some housekeeping but worked mostly in the fields picking and chopping cotton and picking up pecans. We lived well below the poverty level, but so did 80 percent of the black families living in Lake Providence, Louisiana. My parents struggled to feed us, but I don’t ever remember going to bed hungry.

I was raised in a house with one-and-a-half bedrooms because one of the bedrooms was converted into a living room with one small couch. We did not have hot or cold running water inside the house. We had to heat our water in a foot tub on the stove. Then we poured the heated water into a large tin tub to take a bath. We knew only of two worlds to exist in Lake Providence. One was the white world with new pretty houses, nice cars, and black maids. Then there was the black world with dilapidated houses, few cars, and substandard jobs, like field work or housekeeping. Being a teacher was one the most respected jobs for black people in Lake Providence at that time. Most black families depended on government subsides called commodities to get through the hard times. I heard black comedians joke about government cheese, but it was that cheese and other commodities that got a lot of black families through the hard winter months, and that was no joke!

We grew up with an unspoken premise that we had to respect white folks at any cost and all cost. As a young child, I couldn’t understand why my parents would refer to young white men and women as Mrs. Jones or Mr. Jones, and they referred to my parents as John or Matilda. I didn’t like that. I didn’t like when they would have to say, Yes, ma’am, or No, sir, to young white people half their age.

At the age of five, I started working in cotton fields picking cotton. They had cotton sacks designed just for younger kids that could not pick a whole lot of cotton. As a child, I learned that working in the scorching heat from sun up until sun down for two dollars a day was no fun.

Growing up in a large family had some perks and some shortcoming. I was labeled as the baddest child my parents had. If there was any trouble to be gotten into, you can bet I found it. Because I was so bad, I got blamed for things I didn’t do. I got a whipping at least once a day. My parents always told me I was hard-headed, and I certainly lived up to that title, which kind of starts the explanation as to why, I haven’t always been a good girl.

Charlie and Clarence were the two siblings I was born after, so I grew up acting like my brothers, and then I got labeled as a tomboy. Our house was very small, it was called a shotgun house. Because of the space in our house, I had to sleep in the same bed with my brothers. This was horrible, because when they peed in the bed, I would get blamed for it. My daddy would sometimes do pajama checks and that person that peed in the bed would have to make up the bed. This was an open mattress that you had to put your hands in to move the cotton around so the pee could dry. Now that I think about it, that was quite nasty!

My youngest brother, Clarence, and I shared a special bond. We spoke a special kind of language that no one outside the family could understand. It was as though we spoke through our nose and mouth at the same time. It was hard trying to get other people to understand us. When people heard us talk in public, they probably thought we were mentally retarded or from some foreign African country. By the time I was ready to go to the first grade, my brother’s speech had improved but not mine. I said very little in first grade because the children would laugh at the way I talked. There were a lot of times I didn’t understand things in class. I would be too ashamed to ask the teacher questions, because I knew the kids would laugh at me.

After entering the first grade, I got another shock—when my birth certificate arrived at school, the name on the birth certificate was not Catherine Clay but Carolyn Clay, and my birthday was on the thirteenth of May and not the twelfth of May. This was a bit much for a first grader to understand. My parents named me after my sister-in-law. To this day, friends and family still call me Cat and Catherine, and I always celebrate my birthday on the twelfth and thirteenth of May each year.

When I was in the first grade, the kids were very cruel to me. Most girls in the first grade had pony tails but my hair was very short, so my mother would put little twigs on my head. At recess, the kids would hit me and call me, Bald-headed Carolyn, bald-headed Carolyn, and I would chase after them. They were having fun at my expense, but all I could do was pretend I was having fun to keep from crying.

By the age of twelve, I was in the sixth grade, and my speech was much better, thanks to my patient elementary and Sunday school teachers who worked with me very hard. At that particular time, there were no speech teachers in the schools. Even though my speech was somewhat better, I was still being teased by the kids. They called me ugly and teased me because most of my clothes were hand-me-downs. I was an average student and always tried to do my best because I wanted to be like the so-called pretty girls with the long hair, nice clothes, and good grades. I can remember at Carroll Elementary when a teacher would be out, they would allow a sixth-grade student to watch the class. I was chosen often by my teacher to watch the first-grade class. I did this a few times, and I had complete control of the class and actually called myself teaching. This was the year I decided I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up. I had no idea what it would take to become a teacher, but it is now what I wanted to do. I never heard any of my older siblings talking about college or even a trade school, so I had no idea what I needed to do to get to the college level.

By the time I was thirteen,