A women of color..

I am a women of color. Elegant in her own way. A women of pride. Striving to keep herself alive everyday. A women of strength. Who knows how it feels to be beaten on the inside and strive to overcome those scars. A person who tries to get rid of those scars in embarrassment and shame, only to realize they're here to stay. They're memories of a past she thought she could not overcome. The past that she thought would haunt her for the rest of her life. I am a women of color. One who has been battered, slung; seen tears and death, with the eyes that deceive her everyday. A women of courage. One that has been placed in situations she thought would never be seen through. A women of heart. One who has put others before herself. A women of goals. One who has seen the light, but still, so far from it. A woman of passion. One who has been lost at a young age. A women of forbidden love. One who has found love she could not keep. I am a women of color. Lost but found through a series of trials and tribulations. Broken, sent away, left for. A women who didn't choose the way she lived in a sense of her own. A women of indignity. Filled with shame, and remorse. A women of wonder. Curious mind, open ears to so many items society calls "human". A women of flame. Stepping to achieve what she has seen can be done. A women of history. A woman of people. A women of color. I am a women, who started as a young girl of color.

Prologue - I could still taste the plastic...

I could still taste the plastic tubes. All too familiar, though they had a bitter taste; raw and old. I don't know how long I'd been here, but the heavy crust of sleep participles that covered my eyes gave me a good sign that I'd been here for a while. I could feel the pain radiating through my nose. It was bearable, but the heat I felt from laying under the multiple white sheets was not. I felt lost, alone. I couldn't hear or see anyone due to the pain of opening my eyes, and the solid ringing in my ears.

I knew there was someone in the room, I felt there touch. The presence was all too well that I didn't need to see to know that my mother was sitting by my side, instantly bringing a smile to my face. No words were spoken. If they were, I couldn't hear them. I just heard the ringing, the solid ringing. There was light beeping in the background, but it was so light I'm surprised I was even able to point it out. I felt weak. I wanted to get up, run to my mother, and demand she take me home. With a nice please. But I couldn't even feel my legs. Everything felt numb. I could still taste the plastic. It was rocking in the back of my throat as if it were a swing. I knew it kept me breathing, kept me from slipping away what could be the life I wanted and needed to live. The life I didn't know would change the moment I left that bed. October 9th, 1999.

Things didn't sit right in my mother's eyes the day I was born. She loved and cherished me as much as any loving mother could. More. But she knew in her heart that things with me would never sit right. There was an unbalance to my life, something that threw it off, but gave it a new sense of purpose. What is a memory to people? If you think back far enough, our minds work in a spectacular way. We find that we remember the most bizarre things from our childhood. Things that didn't really mean anything or matter in a sense, but they meant something to our particular self being. As we grow older our minds develop in a way we can't really explain. "You were chubby, cute, and playful." Were the words I remember leaving my mother's mouth. Though I would cringe, the word cute only symbolized me then, what was I now? I felt as though I was a person who was looking for something. Looking for a calling for myself. Memories fade each day. I believe my mother's memories stay from an effect of her life. I also believe mine stay from tragic or wonderful events in my life.

I could still taste the plastic. it was cool; surrounding me, trapping me in. I felt like it was closing in on me, like I could slip from the grasp of what was suppose to be my life, and eventually I did slip. The memories that were suppose to lead up to my normal life slipped away from me, and I thought, that's what causes my memory fade. I remember the struggles I faced with my family. I remember the struggles we had to go through as a whole. Then, it didn't occur to me that what my family and I were going through was the effect of lacking financial services, jobs, and support. I didn't comprehend well that we were struggling to the point of being homeless. All I knew was that I lived with them, and we moved around from home to home a lot. I can still hear the ringing. It's faint. There's a sparkle to its ringing and cold steam bouncing off my arms. I could hear the ringing. I could feel the water behind it. A shower head, it stared me straight in the face from above almost as if looking down to me in judgement, but I didn't know why. I couldn't hear any beeping. Without it, I felt like I flatlined, as though i was dead on the inside, and I didn't know why. My life always felt out of place, and I didn't know why. Something was missing. I'd always been a person to multitask myself in different activities, but no matter how many times I pretended to feel ok, I still tasted the plastic; bitter and cold but Keeping me alive.