My earliest memory. Playing with a wheeled toy on a cold floor. Being called to dinner. Moving out of the house. My father nailing the door.
In a bus. A green knapsack. A camping trip my uncle funded. I took a deep breath each time the thought of losing my parents entered my mind.
The nuns and priests made us pray and sing several times a day. Raise your hand, wait to be called, stand up if you wish to utter a word.
Humiliation was an effective punishment. Your khakis pulled down. In your undies at the back of the classroom for the rest of the day.
At lunch the parents bragged to each other about your grades. Gave you money for recess. Sprinkled baby powder on your back.
I had a pair of friends who were identical twins. We played with marbles digging small pockets between the concrete slabs. I use to win.
When there was a fight, all the kids would gather around and chant "Ali! Ali! Ali!" Throughout elementary school I only fought with nuns.
My house had a lush tropical garden. I would gather tadpoles, geckos, and all sorts of insects, start a fire, and watch them die.
I would whip dragonflies from flight, build slingshots to shoot at birds, lit firecrackers on frogs. I felt nothing.
Several cats lived in my house. I made it a game to sneak up to them. And kick them as hard as I could. I was seven.
My first pet was a black dog named Midnight. One day my father built him a cage. By morning he had strangled himself between the bars.
In my neighborhood I was fee to roam as far as I can. So long as I was home by dark. Stories of men in trees who eat children.
I made kites out of light sticks and tissue paper. At an obscure back alley store they sold large spools of thin blue plastic strings.
Running start let it go give it as much string as you have. Once you've lost control follow the string and fetch it in the next town.
Climb fences. Climb houses. Climb trees. As much as I have I never fell to my death. I nailed a platform up high a guava tree. I was eight.
My first bike had a banana seat couldn't reach the ground and an insane amount of reflectors. Someone held the back as I rode. Then let go.
I stripped the rubber off an electric plug to try and electrocute a house gecko. My dad yelled at me. Apparently I could have died.
I was a skinny kid. Never got sick much. Quiet. Sat with chin to fist.
Moving to LA I threw up several times in the plane. We landed in San Francisco first. Saw kids with freckles.
My grandmother picked us up from LAX. She brought me a black Raiders jacket. She told me that things are different here.
I had acquired a spear gun weeks before and fired one through my foot by accident. It bled. She took the stitches off once it had dried.
It was cold. Catholic school was in english. But here everyone spoke it. My relatives spoke spanish when they talked behind our backs.
Fifth grade or sixth. It was halloween. My teacher had me wear a some sort of wig in class. And told me I was a good looking girl.
There was a girl in class who everyone called ugly. Bees liked to go into her frizzy hair. By chance she was my partner at dance class.
At middle school in Glendale, the first question from one of the kids at P.E. was "where you from?" He didn't mean what town or state.
The hispanic kids, asian kids, black kids, and the undeclared. All hung out in their assigned spots on campus.
I wore baggy black tapered pants, buttoned up shirts, and a high push back fade that took up most of my morning getting ready.
Not a week went by without a fight, at times a stabbing. And the occasional earthquake and earthquake drill.
Eighth grade my friends would pull up at the back of the school with a stolen car and I would hop the fence and ditch.
After school at the courts one day some outsiders rolled in and I found myself with a gun pointed two inches from my face. He smiled.
I drew very well and lettered lot of friends names on bristol paper with markers and pen.
I entered art contests and won plaques and cash prizes.
Just as during birthdays my friends jumped me on my last day in LA before moving to FL. That's just how it was.
I wrote my friends for a while. Then we stopped. Oh god Naples Florida. I had no choice.
I tried out for the high school basketball team. Thought I was badass having played street ball. The coach had a talk with me.
Everyone was white. Across the moat behind the trees all the black folks lived. Called it "brown town". My first job was at a grocery store.