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For many years I thought I was six years old when I met my abuser. I was born in 1969, I didn’t turn six until December of 1975. For only sixteen days, I was six years old.
The world can seem so huge to a five year old kid and for me, my world consisted of Fletcher Street, the north common projects, cobblestone streets, mountain’s of sand piles at the DPW and a whole lot of freedom for a five year old girl.
I remember Fletcher Street most vividly because remembering Pleasant Street would have let me remember all the times I pleaded for help and who wants to remember an uncaring, unsafe and unloving family?… I know I didn’t.
When I typed out my life story back in 2016, in a way I was still protecting the actions of my ‘family’ and still denying myself the reality of what I lived through for six years of my childhood. It wasn’t until I connected with people whose families had taken me in when I was abandoned by the one person who was suppose to protect me and discarded by the two brothers who should have protected me. I won’t be closing my eyes and reliving my childhood in this blog but I will be speaking up for the little girl I once was… the one no one protected from a man who wore a mask so well.
Living on Fletcher Street in 1975, there was always a lot of people in the house, a lot of babysitters, parties and yelling. There was always a lot of yelling, mostly at us kids and by kids, I mean my two older brothers and myself. There were also a few men my mother would bring home, waking us in the middle of the night so we could walk to the local bar and bust them cheating or lying to my mother.
I was told my dad had died and would get a smack upside my head when I would ask or cry for him. At school, I was the kid that came home with the yellow envelope that stated, “Your child has lice,” a black comb and some teachers would give me bags of dresses that my mother would return back to the school, yelling that the teacher insulted her by giving me clothes.
It was during the summer or start of school 1975 when the parties and babysitters stopped coming around. My mother had a new boyfriend and he was moving in… So we could better our lives.