You Must Not Know Bout Me

Over the last week or so, I’ve gotten a whole bunch of emails from people who read this blog (leave comments, it helps me figure out who you are, mmmk)who are jumping down my throat for the extra randomness of my posts lately, or are trying to tell me that what I write about is too young or too old, or telling me that I need to be more lucid with my writing, or hurling some personal insult, or my personal favorite trying to tell me what I’m about and who I really am on the inside. I’ve got thick skin, this really doesn’t bother me, but I’m honestly getting tired of seeing the emails and I’m in rare form today, so allow me…

I write what I want when I want. I don’t care if you don’t like it. If you’re such a non-fan, please help yourself to the X at the top right corner of this window. I don’t write to make you happy, I write because I can and because it makes me happy. I don’t sit at my computer and ponder over my words to make them amenable to the goings on in your brain. I’m so glad you stop by to read what I’ve decided to post up here, since more than likely I’ve read or do read your stuff. But I write about what’s on my mind; some days I’m happy, somedays I’m angry, somedays I’m sad. So there are times when my posts go from jubilant to reflective–I’m only human. I think a lot and have strong opinions, but I don’t always feel like being on a pro-intellect, pro-black, pro-women, pro-whatever tirade. I like to play and be silly. Sorry if that’s not okay with you.

Since there are a handful of you who think you know me better than I know myself, let me help you out and ensure you have the right facts.

I’m 24, I grew up in Albany, NY and moved to the South Bronx when I was five and shuttled between the two places for 12 years, so I claim both as home. I’m a Jamerican–my father was fresh off the boat. He left my mom with two kids when I was three, he raped me violently when I was four. My mom did her damndest to keep my brother and I in line. She sent us to private schools our whole K-12 years, and yeah I’m proud of it–more actually proud of my mom for doing so ALONE. Because of where I went to school, I’m more familiar with the term racial sellout than most of you EVER will be. Yeah, said straight to my face, as I lay on the ground with a foot in my back more than once, more than twice. I don’t hate my father, even though since then he’s stolen my identity, lied to my life insurance companies, and a whole bunch of other stuff you don’t need to know. I’m proud of making it through that, and will discuss when asked or when I feel like it, but I don’t broadcast it daily, nor do I let it define the direction of my life. If you knew most of the details, you’d think I lived in a Lifetime Movie.

I know the other side of being poor. Yeah, we were in the fancy school, but child support came when it wanted. So my mom went without more often than not. Lights have been off, no heat, watched her go through bankruptcy, I find out now somedays she didn’t know how we were going to eat, but we did every day. Her mom was my rock, and she died four years ago, and I’m still destroyed. Watching her die the way she did wasn’t right. She basically starved into a death by dementia. She never wanted to die in a hospital, but at least she’s at peace now.

I’m supposed to be a mother, but God didn’t want that to happen. I let my virginity go entirely too early, even though I knew what my mom did for a living (delivery room nurse at the time) and I knew just what the result of my actions could be. So I ended up pregnant at 15. Yeah, so when I get teary eyed over a young mom, I understand. I have a sonogram picture left to remind me of how far I’ve come.

My uncle is a bonafide crackhead. He told me a year ago he wished he would have molested me because I had the shape of a goddess when I was 13. He spent the $17,000 my grandpa left him when he died in four days on a crack binge. He was also left a house in NC. Sold it to buy more crack. Lied to my mom and gramma and managed to almost sell the house that was left to my mom (we didn’t have money, but we had land that my grandpa owned yet didn’t find that out till he died) to buy more crack. He stole my life savings, he stole my graduation money, he stole my brother’s truck. Yeah, he’s two shakes from the grave now, but he’s sober–at last check.

I got hit by a car and landed on my back. I broke three of my vertebrae. two are fused. I have two hooks, a cage, a chunk of my hip missing to replace back bone all in my spine. But I STILL tap dance. It hurts, and most days I function in pain you couldn’t imagine but I’m so used to it, that I’m almost afraid of what pain-free would look like. But you’d never know it. I run and dance in heels at the club, whatever I want. I’ve been tap dancing for 21 years now, so the only way I’ll stop is if I’m pregnant or paralyzed.

I’ve got hangups about my hair. I admire those who are natural, but I haven’t found the courage to do so completely yet. That doesn’t make me any less conscious or black than the next person. At least I’m woman enough to admit that I still have those issues.

I have one brother, two half brothers, and ten step siblings. That leaves me a total of 77 nieces and nephews, and a whole rack of other cousins and such. I wasn’t always physically alone growing up, but I was many days because I’m the thinker–the “smart” one.

I worked full time through college and still owe Sallie.Mae my soul. I moved here for a chance to live without the shadow of the demons of my life invading my space. I’m in grad school, I work full time in my chosen career. I’m in management and am the youngest manager this organization has ever had. Yes, I’m proud. I’m trying to learn how to be a better woman, better girlfriend, better Christian, but I struggle some days. I’m incredibly sensitive once you figure out what actually bothers me underneath that thick skin I’ve got. I have strong opinions on a lot of things, some are popular and some aren’t. I’m absolutely happy with who I am, and I live everyday unapologetically.

That’s me in a nutshell. Too bad if you don’t appreciate how hard it is for me to bear so much of me like that. Too bad if you don’t like how I think or how I write. It’s me, and that’s the very best I can do.

Back to regular posting tomorrow.

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20 thoughts on “You Must Not Know Bout Me

  1. I agree with Gunfighter. You have no one to answer to or please but yourself!

    And I commend you for having the courage to open up like that. That takes a lot of guts.

  2. Yeah! Girl, a lot of folks come on this internet and paint this pretty picture of who they are (easy to hide in the shadows of the ether), but they are just as fugged up as the next, so don’t even worry about trying to let people know why you are the way you are. Either they accept what you present or they don’t. Keep it moving…

  3. tasha.. i just started reading your blog.. and i absolutey love it ! I can totally appreciate your views.. I’m 25 in baltimore.. went to howard.. lived in DC, VA, PG and Mo County .. so WE HERE ( like on MArtin ) .. Im soo impressed that you would share ur story .. who knew ! .. you’ve came a way girl.. and God has Many Blessings for you.. keep up the good work!

  4. I dont know i’ve ever posted but i lurk here daily. You have been through so much in such a short period of time and come out climbing to the top. You are the definition of Shero. Don’t make apologies for who you are especially to people who are not brave enough to open themselves up and expose themselves, warts and all. This must be blogger kiss my azz week cause virtually everyone has posted about this in one form or another.

  5. well hot diggity damn ma!!!!

    I came here expecting to get a lil laugh before I rolled out for the day.. but instead I get a very enlightening detailed visual into a soul of a sista who is REAL..

    Damn.. can’t ever knock anybody’s hustle or struggle cause YOU DON’T know where they came from nor what they have overcomed..

    My blessings to you ma.. because you are a pretty butterfly.. Don’t let them haters/naysayers get to you..

    Now that you’ve got that off your chest.. *CAN I GET A LIL JOKEY JOKE TOMORROW* šŸ™‚

    *DAP 2 YA*

  6. This is my first time reading your posts and what I’ve read so far is too funny. I am new to “bloggin” so I could give a rat’s behind about what people think of my writing. Keep doin’ what cha doin’.

  7. Yo Tasha….the fact that you just said everything about you in this blog shows that you are stronger than anybody who wants to send you an email hatin. Blogs are personal. You type, write and say what you feel, when you feel and how you feel. Much love…..

  8. There will always be a lotta stupid folk breathing and talking and saying nothing. Ignore the uninformed, I am better than you, I will judge you without knowing you – ummm stupid people. Or let ’em have it. Put ’em in a corner and let them kick rocks. That should keep them entertained for a while. Keep on being yourself and have a great day.

  9. Preach!

    Somebody is going to have something to say reguardless. If they don’t like it they can kick rocks!

    Have a good weekend Tasha!

  10. I dont know you but I can say I am proud of you for enduring all of that and not being ashamed of who you are. Anyone not sensitive enough or smart enough to understand YOUR blog is for & about YOU should take a few seconds to learn through your writing what it means to work at knowing yourself. Continue writing girl!

  11. Beautiful post, Tasha.

    For anyone that wants to critize you or your blog or what you write…

    just…
    just…

    Aw – the hell with them!!!

    You are handling YOUR business!!! And, that just makes you THE ONE!!!

    Not that you need anything from us, but believe me when I say, the vast majority of us – your fellow bloggers – respect you and your blog immensely!

    BTW,
    If you want, I’m sure me and GUNFIGHTER can kick the asses of the people that are sending you nasty E-Mails.

    Seriously though, this is a magnificent post. I’m humbled to have read it.

  12. get it girl. that’s part of the reason i don’t allow anonymous comments or post my real email addy. i don’t want the crazies. regardless, tho, there will still be people who will tell you what you should write. who cares? that is some kind of life. you have your freedom, your strength and this page. its YOURS. stay fab.

  13. I appreciate you sharing the most intimate pieces of you life!

    You have survived some intense situations & you still rise!

    In regards to your hair, the courage is within. When the time is right, you will make that cut feel great about it.

    Peace,
    Bygbaby

  14. If people dont like what you do or do not say on your blog, fuck ’em, they dont have to read your blog!

    As for the rest, Im currently speechless – but I know youll keep doing well!

    L

  15. I know this is an old post and I am hella late….But can I say gatdamn!!

    You put it out there, and not everyone has the courage to do that….

    We all have struggles in our life and it seems that you have persevered through each so my hat goes off to you

    and my heart goes out to you for surviving what you have been through

    I only hope that I can bounce back and still tell bitches to kiss my ass when I’m through

    first time commenting even though I stroll through every now and then…

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