Confessions from a Pastor's Daughter

By Lady J

Pastors' children should be allowed to pursue their dreams. After all, you only have one life to live. People need to stop putting their pastor and their children on a pedestal. They too are going to make mistakes. To my knowledge, there is only one perfect man to walk on this planet Earth. He is the sinless one, my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. He is the only one that I have to answer to when this place can no longer afford me a home. I pray that he has forgiven me for all my sins. I want him to say, "Well done thy good and faithful servant. Welcome! Be Blessed!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781684564255

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Confessions from a Pastor's Daughter

Lady J

Copyright © 2019 Lady J

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2019

Picture Frame Cover Design by: Rich Catino

ISBN 978-1-68456-426-2 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68456-425-5 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Introduction

Being a preacher’s kid (PK) as most folks would call us would bring a tremendous amount of great expectations. Most of us were not allowed to participate in some of the normal activities in life because it was considered too worldly. My opinion of this was we do live on earth, why can’t I enjoy my life? I am going to bring fourth to you the lives of three young ladies who knew each other from birth. They had a bond that some people would envy. All three of the women were daughters of a pastor. Each of them traveled down a different road, as they grew older. I am going to focus more on my experiences. I am going to include some stories of ministers of the cloth who not only fooled their wives but they fooled their congregation as well.

This story is not to generalize pastors or their children. I just believe that pastor’s children should be given the opportunity to be themselves and not be sheltered from reality. We should be recognized as regular people who will make mistakes. God knows that I have and truly learned from them. I am not here to bash ministers either, but if the shoe fits and it’s your size, then you shall wear it! THE TRUTH SHALL SET YOU FREE. I kept a journal that I named Jamillah. I shared my deepest thoughts with Jamillah. Now I am going to reveal them to you. I dedicate this book to all of the preachers’ kids who are under pressure and feel there is no way out. Be yourself. What GOD has for you is for you!

Chapter 1

CHILDHOOD

Dear Jamillah,

Growing up in Baxter Terrace projects during the ’60s and ’70s was challenging. I can recall Pam, Kathy and I outside jumping rope during spring break. On April 4 of 1968, when all of a sudden, my mother yelled for me to come in the house. I knew something terrible must of happen by the sound of her voice. My father was upset, and my neighbor was crying out loud. The Godfather of the Civil Rights Movement, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was assassinated. I was seven years old. I did not know who this great man of God was, but I had common sense to know he was a man of greatness. His funeral was televised on all major channels. I remember seeing Mrs. Coretta Scott King holding her daughter. I felt sad for her. I began hugging my daddy because I loved him so much. Kathy and Pam came over my house to watch Dr. King’s funeral. All three of us worship our fathers. Our fathers were all men of the cloth. Kathy’s father was our pastor. He was like a father to my dad. He was my dad’s father in the ministry. He also married my parents three years before I was born.

He baptized Kathy, Pam and I on the same night. I often called Kathy’s father Thee Pastor since he was the oldest and wisest man out of the three men. We all thought we had the Holy Ghost the night of baptism. We learned later that the feeling was temporary. Pam’s father was not popular for his preaching. He was known as the mean reverend. His church building was relatively small to hold a pool. So, whenever he had candidates for baptism, he would come to my church where Thee Pastor and my dad would baptize them in the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost. I could not stand Pam’s father. He was too mean and strict. I think he was very spooky. He always dressed in black like a mortician. I can recall when we were attending elementary school; Pam’s father slapped her across the face for not returning home quickly from school. Pam once told her father that she was going to my house to see a documentary on Dr. King’s life. Her father later came over to my apartment looking for her. Pam was over our friend Kevin’s house doing the rubsies (fake sex). In the meantime, the mean reverend rang the doorbell. My dad came to the door. They shook hands, and Pops let him in. He asked my dad if Pam was here. My dad told him no. My dad informed him that I was in the backroom doing my homework. The mean reverend became a little irritated. He decided to go across the hall to our neighbor Miss Olivia’s house. Miss Olivia was an attractive single woman with no kids. All the men had eyes for her. He told my dad that she needed a blessing. In the meantime, my mother and her nosy girlfriend Ms. Glenda was gossiping about him. I heard my mother said I know what type of blessing he’s going to give her. Then they both started laughing.

Pam’s dad stayed over Miss Olivia’s house for about two hours. He still managed to make it home before Pam. When Pam finally arrived home, her father was waiting on the couch. He asked her where have she been. Pam lied telling him she was over my house. The reverend let her know that he came over my house and stayed there talking to my dad while I was in the backroom doing my homework. This man was slick. He covered his own tracks just in case Pam’s mother asked him where he had been. Then he ordered Pam to remove all her clothes. He commenced to beat the shit out of Pam until he got tired.

The very next day when Pam came to school, she was walking too slowly for me, so I asked her what was wrong. She showed me the bruises on her body. I never had seen anything like that in my life. My mother didn’t even come close to that. I received a few weep marks from the belt. Pam told me that her father who was a big man whipped her with two extension cords tied in knots. I told her I would have covered for her only if she would have told me where she was going. I am truly blessed to have a father like my dad. He never whipped me. My mother, on the other hand, could not wait for me to do something wrong. It seems to me she got high over whipping my ass. Although I received good grades, kept myself clean and stayed in the church. I felt my mom was never proud of me. I am the younger of the two. My brother was treated like a prince. I felt I was Hazel the maid. I used to feel it was strange because the youngest often was spoiled. I was never spoiled.

My other partner in crime Kathy was the youngest out of ten children. Kathy was spoiled rotten by our church members simply because she was our pastor’s daughter. Pam was in the middle of eight siblings. I used to wish for an older sister. Kathy’s older sister Tamara was a gifted artist with a dark side. Kathy, Pam and I were all singers. Kathy had Thee Voice. She led most of the songs in the choir. Our minister of music Kenneth would often give me upbeat Gospel songs to lead, and Kathy and Pam would lead slow beat solos. I was glad my parents allowed us to be exposed to all types of music. R & B artist like the Queen of Soul Aretha Franklin and the godfather of soul James Brown was the joint. Oftentimes, Kathy, Pam, and I pretended to be Diana Ross and the Supremes. Whenever Pam was off of punishment, we would watch Soul Train on Saturday mornings. We would practice all of the latest moves we see on the show. Everyone wanted to stay in shape because you would be picked on if you were obese. I was picked on because of my chocolate complexion. I did not allow the teasing to bother me, but if you bothered my brother, that was another story. James Brown had a hit Say It Loud, I’m Black and I’m Proud. But still our own people would criticize me and my brother about our skin tone. Being chocolate was not in at this present time.

Hey Jamillah,

I did something really terrible, but I don’t have any remorse for what I done because I was told not to let anyone bother my brother or me. I was out riding my bike with Pam and Kathy when all of a sudden, some of my other classmates ran up to tell me that some older teenagers were teasing my brother while he was delivering the Star-Ledger newspaper. I quickly rode down the hill when I came within distance of the teenagers who was taunting my brother with his newspapers; I immediately picked up two Coke bottles. I cracked both of them over a bench and proceeded to go closer toward them. Without a word, I hit one of the teenagers in the head; and the other started to flee, but I managed to get one of his legs. Blood was all over the place. One of the teenager’s name was Kenny Black, and the other teenager’s name was Barry Jones. Neither one of those teenagers ever teased my brother again. My mother whipped my behind because I would not apologize to them. I told them the next time they decide to bother my brother that they better think twice. I was on punishment for about a month. My dad had to pay their medical bills. I feared no one but God and my mother. After this incident, no one bothered me or my brother about our complexion. My brother was able to make his deliveries on time. Pam was picked on daily too. There were six girls. They all dressed as if they were a part of The Little House on the Prairie cast. Oftentimes, I would defend my friend. I was not a bully; I just didn’t take any nonsense.

Growing up in Baxter Terrace was not so bad until the poison heroine was introduced to the weak sisters and brothers in the neighborhood. People were overdosing over this poison at an alarming rate. I can recall stepping over a woman who had a needle in her arm in Kathy’s building.

To forget about the negatives scenes that were occurring in our lives, we would get serious about our singing. We still managed to clown around in church. Funds were limited. We would always sit in the middle of the pew. So when the usher passed the plate, one of us would take a few dollars out of the plate and pass it to the usher on the opposite end. No one suspected a thing. After morning service, we would go to the corner store to buy candy, potato chips and soda or doughnuts and hot chocolate, depending on the season. Later on, we would take turns praying asking God to forgive us of our sins. We would often bet on who would lose their wigs or hats while catching the Holy Spirit during morning service. I would win most of the bets since I paid most attention to those sisters who were wearing their new outfits and especially the older sisters. They had a good sense for fashion…

Our minister of music Kenneth thought I was mature enough to travel with the mass choir. So he asked my parents if I could sing with the mass choir. To my surprise, my parents gave me permission. I had little freedom. The mass choir was awesome. My nana would buy me clothes and shoes to keep up with the older teenagers. Now I have the opportunity to meet people from other states when we had choirs competing. I enjoyed meeting the older boys since I was not allowed to talk to them at home. When we traveled, I met a great deal of fine young men who can really sing. Some of these young brothers sounded like the Temptations or the Four Tops. The harmony was together. Nana and my godmother was a part of the Joyful Harmonizers. They would be on the same billing as some famous headliners like Shirley Caesar and the Caesar Singers.

On 1972, everything started to change for the worst. The drugs were taking over the neighborhood as fast as you can blink an eye. White folks would come from their suburban neighborhoods to purchase their drugs. Some of the older mothers would come outside with their brooms to lure them out. Nana was the main one. She would tell them to go elsewhere to buy their drugs. Drugs were in the church. Yes, the church. Kathy’s older sister would sell reefers upstairs in the main room where we were taught our Sunday school lesson. Tamara sounds like Tramaine Hawkins. She and her posse Raven and Tina were the older young adults who were supposed to be good role models for us. Around 11:15 after Tamara and her crew made their money, they got the nerve to order us down the stairs in an orderly fashion so we can march down to We Come This Far by Faith. I thought this type of activity was strange since Tamara was the Pastors daughter. Kathy thought it was cool.

Hey Jamillah,

I know that I haven’t been writing you lately. A lot of things have been going on. Kathy, Pam and I are teenagers now. Being thirteen was the age that a lot of the girls became sexually active. Most of my classmates were doing the rubsies (fake sex).

My mother told me that if I allow a boy to kiss me that I will end up pregnant, and she was going to whip my ass if I embarrass the family. I was so naïve that I believed everything that my mother told me.

It’s the Fourth of July. Every year, my aunt Shirley gives a cookout at Eagle Rock Reservation. I am fully developed with my period and wearing a 36C bra. A young teenage boy was staring at me. My older cousin introduced him to me. He asked me if I wanted to climb the mountain to see the sights. Sure, why not? I replied. Darrell looked like Jackie Jackson of the Jackson Five. He was light skinned with brown hair. He told me immediately that he liked me, and I told him I liked him too. We both liked to sing Gospel, and he loved to draw. He brought a pad and pencil. When we got near the top, Darrell paused for a moment to draw me. He drew a nice portrait within minutes. I told him that he was going to go far with his gift. He then reached over to kiss me. It was nice soft kiss. I kissed him back. The next thing I knew, he was reaching for my breast. NO! I told him. He backed off and apologized. I wanted to go back. All I could remember at the moment was what my mama said. God, please don’t let me be pregnant was what I kept saying to myself. Darrell kept apologizing to me while we were going downhill. Once we reached to my family, I stayed away from Darrell. I was scared. My conscience was bothering me. I liked the kiss, but please, God, don’t let me be pregnant. I kept repeating to myself.

I spend the night over Auntie’s house. I started crying. My older cousin Mary wanted to know what was wrong with me. I told her that I believe I maybe pregnant. She asked me when was my last period. I told her last month. She ran downstairs to get our older cousin Rita. Rita asked me if I allowed Darrell to penetrate me.

Huh? I asked, and then she broke it down.

Did you let that boy put his dick in your pussy?

NO, I replied. I didn’t have a clue about what penetration was. What’s that?

Both of my cousins started laughing after I told them what my mother said what would happen to me if I allow a boy to kiss me. They told me the truth about my body. Once they stopped laughing at me, I didn’t find a damn thing funny.

I was amazed at what our bodies can do. I never revealed to my mother that I knew the whole truth about sex and reproduction. Two of my classmates who I often played kickball became pregnant over the summer. This time, my mother told me that my friends have tumors that were contagious. I could no longer play with them. I just obeyed her orders. I stayed away to avoid a confrontation. When we played kickball against the other projects like Hayes Homes, Stella Wrights and Columbus Homes, my friends would be on the sidelines looking so sad. It was both their first time having sex. Unfortunately for them, they got caught.

I was scared; I started praying more in the morning than at night. I was asking God to please give me the strength to keep my legs close. I stayed hot in my private area. I had my period ever since I was eleven years old. My mother demanded to see my pad every month. She wrote on the calendar every month that I have my cycle.

When Kathy’s older sister Tamara became pregnant, it was the subject of all the nosy people in our church. Since Tamara was not married, her father made her write a letter to the church asking for forgiveness because she had sinned. The church board members acted like they were saints. I was taught that we all fall short to the kingdom of glory. Only through God’s Grace and God’s Mercy shall we enter the kingdom of heaven. So I didn’t quite understood why Tamara had to write this letter to the church. Nana, at this time, started teaching us girls how to be proud young ladies. Nana called our vaginas a gold mine. Nana always says on a weekly basis to protect our gold mines. She says to treat it as buried treasure. Wait until you get married. I would whisper to my friends and tell them I don’t believe I can wait that long. They started laughing. Nana would say why don’t you share the joke with the entire class. I apologized to the class because I would not dare tell my nana how I really feel.

We are in September of 1973. From early fall of 1973 to the spring of 1974 were very difficult for all three of us. Everything started to change for the worst. The drugs that were consuming the neighborhood were also becoming a part of Kathy’s daily routine. She started popping pills and having sex. She started spending more time with the bad crowd. Pam and I would see less of her as time passed by. Kathy’s mother, who was a very sweet lady, knew I was concerned about my friend. She said to keep her in my prayers. Pam and I really missed Kathy because we were inseparable up until this point.

Around the middle of December, Pam came to my apartment crying late one Sunday evening. Naturally, I wanted to know