HVA Writing Department Resource

I hope you know that I am your daughter.

I hope you know when you curse I hold back tears.

I hope you know that I always want to be by your side.

I hope you know that when you study for a test, your teaching us to get our degrees.

I hope you know that when people think you’re fat, to me you are a stuffed animal that only weighs five pounds.

I hope you know that I can’t live without you because you’re always in my dreams.

I hope you know that I love you.

Because if not, then I wouldn’t be me anymore.

Just another Tyanah or Tenah.

I used to be the one who defended you, the one who stood for your mistakes.

Have you ever done the same?

I used to be the one who knew me more than anyone else.

Did you know me that way?

I used to be the one you called your best friend.

Was it just to say?

I used to be the one who was on your side defending you, helping, and caring for you.

Have you ever felt the same?

I used to be the one you told all your secrets to about goals and schools and fame.

I used to be the one you told all your secrets to about goals and school and fame.

Parents. They think they know everything, but one thing many of them don’t know is how to be a good parent.  Calling you names like “cupcake” and “cutie-pie” in public is not an example of good parenting.  Listen here, parents. Do you want to be a good parent for your kid? Read this.

First, you have to know your kid.  It is important for you to know the classes your kid is taking and the activities he likes to participate in. You have to be involved in everything your kid does.  They need that support from you.  Talk to your kid about school; remember the things he tells you.  Most kids look up to their parents, so you should also make sure you are a role model.  Also, don’t get too involved or you will push them away.

Space. Not outerspace, space as in alone time. Kids need to have some space. Don’t try to be friends with your kid. Don’t be hanging around them trying to talk like they talk. Are you your son’s age? No, I didn’t think so.They need to be able to do things for themselves, too. If not, you will have a mama’s boy or a daddy’s little girl, and that is the worst thing that can happen. No girl wants to end up with a mama’s boy.

Money is an important thing in a kid’s life. Money buys them dolls, games, candy, and french fries.  Parents, you need to stop being cheap. Kids need some money in their pockets. It makes the world go round. Be wise about how much money you give them. If you give your kid too much money, he will turn into a horrible, spoiled rotten brat. Brats are nothing but lazy and rude. It is your job to prevent this; use good judgment.

Parents enforce rules. Kids follow them. Rules are guidelines for kids to help us to learn to do the right thing.  Rules can  become a burden if there are too many to follow.  You should figure out what you really care about your kid learning and then make the rules about those things. Too many rules are overwhelming. Kids already have to worry about school, homework, and friends.

The last advice I have about being a a good parent has to do with names. Parents, you get to decide what to name us when we are born. You also decide when it the wrong time to call us “teddy bear” or some name that you used when we were little when we are out in public.  Stop that.  It is one of the most annoying things to kids.  What are we to you, five years old? Call us by our regular names, the names that you chose.

Unfortunately, parents, you are now aware of how everything you have been doing has been a horrible mistake. I hope you decide to change your ways and learn from my advice. Follow these rules to connect  to your kid and become the great parent he or she wants. If you decide to ignore me, your kid will put you in a nursing home when you turn sixty.

I sat slumped on the steps with my head being held up by my hands waiting for my mother, little sister, and Nana to come home from Aunt Doreen’s graduation. When they walked in, I watched them make their way to the living room along with my Aunt Doreen and cousin Correll. My aunt asked me why I looked depressed and I replied, “I’m bored.” My older cousin Correll chimed in, “It’s such a beautiful Friday and she’s stuck in the house.” Correll asked me if I wanted to come with her to pick up her paycheck. My spirits rose like I was on a rollercoaster at Six Flags and I exclaimed, “Yeah!”

As I turned the knob to the bathroom, I left the moist air that had formed during my hot shower. In perfect harmony with the creak of the door, I heard my name and stood frozen. They has the audacity to be talking about me. How rude, I thought to myself. I decided to continue to listen in my room while I was getting dressed. I put on a colorful splatter shirt, white bermudas, and my fanciest sneakers. Also, my crown heart necklace had to be rocked. As I walked down the steps, my mothe commented, “Are you going to a party?” I responded, showing my annoyance, “No.”

Correll and I were finally on our way.Waiting for the five on Gun Hill Road, she started telling me what the adults had been saying about me. She explained that she defended me because she’s been through the same thing. I explained to her my thoughts about the situation, and she curtly responded, “the reason we are always in trouble is because our mothers are Jamaican.” I laughed immediately in utter agreement.

Once the train came, we took our seats, and Correll started to tell me about her boyfriend of four years, Adam. She talked about how they were planning a wedding. Correll even showed me pictures of cakes and gowns on her Blackberry. I thought to myself, She’s only twenty-one years old. Somehow, the story took a turn to myspace and suddenly, I was explaining my love life to her. As I spoke, Correll’s face would crinkle up as though she smelled something nasty. When I was finished, Correll preached to me. Never let anyone hook you up with someone else. Laughter erupted from me like thunder, even though I didn’t agree with her 100%.

We got off the train at 42nd Street, and we walked to her job at Starbucks. For free, we got strawberry lemonade blended ice-cream fraps. This is now my signature drink at Starbucks. Since that day, Correll and I have been hanging out much more. I met Adam and he seems like a cool guy. He better treat Correll like a goddess or we’ll be having some issues. Last weekend, I went sneaker shopping with Correll and I picked out the perfect white high-tops. My mother unfortunately will not be purchasing me these shoes any time in the near future because, I have no manners and need to humble myself. Her words, not mine.

Have you ever been in a situation where you were having a load of fun and another person was just sitting there being miserable? I’ve been both, but I this particular picture I was the “miserabler” and my brother was the “miserablee.”

One time in the winter of 1999, I was three and my brother was thirteen. I was sitting on my brother’s lap. I was jumping around in my seat which was his leg. He was mad because I know he wanted to push me off of his lap and onto the empty space on the sofa next to us. Of course, my mother wouldn’t let him. If he had the audacity to do so, he would have gotten slapped in the face by my mother and possibly me, but I like to bite.

I was wearing a Ralph Lauren denim jumper with pajamas underneath. I had on black suede boots. The earrings that I had on were little gold hoops that I don’t have anymore because well, like I said, I like to bite. My mother did my hair in some braids that I would never in a million years let her do it to my dear head now.  I had no say in how I dressed or how my hair looked in this case.  Fortunately, I now have some say.  In the picture, I have some kind of liquid in a pink bottle with a red top on it.

My brother had on denim overalls with a burgundy long sleeve shirt on underneath. He had the straightest face I have ever seen in my whole life.  I guess it runs in the family, because I used to sit in Ms. Lorenz’s class looking all miserable for nothing.  His hand was on his face and he looks like he was suffering from pure misery.

The toy on the empty space next to us was obviously his. I wouldn’t be caught dead holding a toy like that even though I was a baby. The pink toy on the pillow is definitely mine even though I even hate pink now.  In this picture, we were sitting in the middle of my living room on 143rd Street between 7th and Lenox Avenue.  My father has been sleeping on the couch, when he lived with us, and his pillow was still there the night before.  We just left it there because he was most likely going to sleep there again the next night.  That’s all his nasty, dirty, stinky, boogery tissue there, too.

If I’m not mistaken, I was probably laughing at my brother’s ugly face or his miserableness.  Most likely, I was laughing at his face.  No, I’m just kidding. I was laughing at nothing.  Hey, what do you expect? I laugh at everything that’s funny at not funny. That’s me.  Maybe I was just cheesing really hard and it looked like I was laughing when my mother took the picture and said, “Say CHEESE, Pumpkin Eater!”

It wasn’t until one cold night when I thought I was going to give up on life. My dad came to me and looked serious. This was a huge surprise because my father is usually a relaxed, humorous guy. I knew I was in for a ride, and much to my amazement, I was right. He sat down next to me and explained that my grandma, my everything, had cancer. I dropped to my knees and started crying. Why did my grandma have to be the one? Why did I have to live through this and was it my fault? My grandma was leaving before I even had the chance to spend time with her. This was the day when I lost my everything.

I was only six. My brother doesn’t even know his own grandmother, and it hurts to talk about something so emotional. My dad was crying and tiny tears formed on his lap that looked like a puddle of raindrops. My mother tried to comfort my father without crying and making things worse. I just remember all my cousins cry and yell in sorrow. I was feeling as is half of my heart was torn and laid down on the ground, pumping on the floor, just waiting for someone to bury it. My face was red.

I remember walking outside and starting to scream. At that moment, I wanted to give up on life, hope, and faith. I wanted one last hug, one last kiss, one last talk, and one last home-cooked meal. I couldn’t talk, neither could my dad. We were both extremely flabbergasted by the news. I couldn’t accept the fact that she left.

I thought and wished and tried to act like she never died, but the truth was, I was running away from truth and fear. It seemed as though she left carrying my father’s personality and mine also. We were dull, and every time we tried to look at the positive, the negative was somehow thrown in. I wanted my grandma to comfort me. My grandma was my source, she was my two feet telling me to move on from the bad. It’s hard at times for me to talk to my father about this because I can’t live through depression anymore. I may not have her here for me to see, but I have her inside my mind and heart. Maybe every night she is standing by my bed.

As I glided across the ice, it swiveled and curled between my ice skates.  I inhaled the cold freshness and embrace the cool feeling and tingly rush.  My heart raced as I picked up speed.  My fast paced breath quickly transformed into small clouds simultaneously.  My waist stayed steady, my legs firm and balanced.  I felt blisters in my skates, the mark of a good skater or at least a hard working one.

I arrived upon a skating couple and dipped under their tightly gripped hands to emerge with a smile.  Closing my eyes gave me a taste of heaven, eliminating school work and worries.  I spread my arms to take it all in gracefully.  I reopened my eyes to return to reality.  I guess life isn’t so tough, so far.

Bliss washed over me like a tsunami.  Songs I’ve never heard before played over the loudspeaker.  I would have been buying snacks from the snack bar, but let’s just say some items on the menu cost a million bucks.  My teachers Ms. Lorenz and Ms. Desai ran LVA surveillance.  Others were too freaked to step one blade on the ice like Mr. Sundar and a few of my 7th grade companions.

Every so often, someone would call my name for assistance as their voices slowly faded under scraping sounds.  A bit of guilt mixed with happiness as I flew by; what a wonderful mix.

I dribbled the basketball a couple of times. I ran across the kitchen floor that was full of pieces of hair, chip crumbs and dirt. In back of me was a long brown table. On top of it were stacks of food in white bowls and plates. The room to my right was full of screaming customers. My aunts were braiding hair fiercely. The television was on loud. Everyone was yelling at each other. Of course this is a salon, what do you expect?

My friend and I were playing basketball for the first time in Ami’s salon. This we played in there.   I was glad. Usually when we go to the salon, Ami would kick us out. We really don’t do anything wrong.

I tried to forget about what was going on in the other room. I ran toward the orange hoop that was hanging from the kichen wall. My feet stepped on all kinds of chips that made a crunching sound every time I ran over one. I dribbled the ball past my friend Amidou.  I saw my opportunity and tried to make a shot into the hoop. Instead, I make a perfect air ball. The ball wasn’t even close to the hoop.

“Ha, ha, sucker,” Amidou’s little brother Abou said. Amidou is the smartest person I know, practically a genius, while his brother is the opposite. Fatima started laughing and couldn’t stop. I thought she could of going on laughing for three days straight without stopping.  Fanta grabbed the basketball and started running. Fatima’s little brother Mohamed ran after Fanta with one untied shoe. Fanta tripped on Mohamed’s untied shoe lace. I thought that this was going to be trouble. Once Fanta got up, I thought that she was going to start a fight. Instead, I saw Amidou run after the basketball. So did Fatima, and Abou.

Ibrahim was getting ready to catch the ball first. He was beside the brown table holding food.  “Oh no they don’t,” I thought. I ran toward the ball. We all collided into each other.  “OUCH!” The basketball flew into the air. For one nano second, we all stared.  We all stared at the ball as if we were watching the July 4th firework show.  The basketball knocked down the first white bowl that fell all over the floor. Fried-rice spilled everywhere. The small plate full of mixed vegetables fell too. Carrots were everywhere. So were the string beans while the peas ran away as if they were glad to be free at last.

My aunts just kept on braiding people’s hair. The customers kept on talking. Nobody heard a thing. There could be a parade outside and they wouldn’t notice a thing. I kept thinking of how much trouble we were going to be in. What if our Aunt Ami walks into the kitchen right this moment? What’s going to happen when she finds out? I was so scared that my heart started beating faster.  Fatima, Amidou, Fanta, Ibrahim, Abou, Mohamed and I all stared at the mess before us.

“Quick clean up everything” Ibrahim said confidently. I thought maybe I was going crazy. But I should have seen this coming.   Ibrahim is that type of person after all. We all bent down to pick up some food. Fatima picked up a whole scoop of rice. There was some dirt in it. Of course, this is a salon.  There’s going to be pieces of dirt, chip crumbs, and pieces of hair on the floor which are now on the food.  We cleaned up everything. Mohamed and I clean up the oil stain with toilet paper.

A few minutes later, Ami came to take the dinner. The customers left the Salon. It was a little quieter now.  “It’s time to eat come eat?” Ami said. We went inside after her. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I could see that Fatima wanted to laugh badly.  The plates were already set out. We all sat down staring at our plates. I thought I was going to faint.  “I’m not hungry. I guess I ate too much chips” Amidou says. We all agree.

Later on that day, Ibrahim held a meeting for us.  “Whoever tells my mom what we did will get beat, get it?”  We all respected Ibrahim because he was the oldest. I was scared but this is sort of funny. Fatima said the four words that we were all thinking, “I can’t believe it.”  I couldn’t either.  As for my aunts and uncles, they ate all of the food and enjoyed it. Yum.