|
Just
Like My Mother?
-
by Jakii Edwards
My mother's lesbianism caused embarrassment and
confusion in my own life. My greatest fear was
that I would become a lesbian, too.
Jakii Edwards' life dramatically changed when
she was five years old. Her happy life with loving
foster parents came to an abrupt end when her
birth mother arrived one day with a male friend
to take Jakii "home."
I was in shock. No other word can describe the
sensation. I don't remember how the man and woman
got me into their car, but I know it was a short
drive. "I no longer belong to the people who love
me," was the thought that stabbed my heart. It
was definitely a sobering, life-stopping pain.
There was one thing that I remember very clearly.
On this nightmare of a day, I firmly resolved
that the woman named Dorothy would never take
my mother's place.
But Jakii's nightmare had just begun. Her birth
mother named Dorothy was an active lesbian who
punished her daughter for the smallest infraction.
Only a few weeks after moving, I received my first
beating. It happened because I called her by her
name, Dorothy.
"What did you just call me, you little yellow
witch?" she shrieked. "I told you to call me Mommy!
Now go and get R.G.'s belt and meet me in your
room!"
I promptly marched down to my grandparents' bedroom
to get the necessary belt, but I had no idea what
to expect. As I dutifully delivered my mode of
punishment to Dorothy's waiting hands, a totally
separate person within my mind began talking to
me!
"Don't worry, Jakii. We won't cry and we won't
run or flinch no matter how hard she hits us,"
the voice told me.
"Take this, you witch.. .and this.. .and this,"
Dorothy repeated each time the belt slashed across
my back, shoulders, arms, and buttocks.
I remember staring out the window as I received
the blows, and at the very same time I was also
standing beside myself observing the entire traumatic
incident. I don't know how I managed it, but I
honestly didn't cry or move. Later I named my
"other" Jakii Miss Hyde, and "she" was the one
who ended up dealing with all of my painful situations.
Despite her preference for other women, Dorothy
continued to be intimate with men and became pregnant
with another child.
I remember the warm June evening when I saw my
mother sitting on the front porch moving slowly
back and forth in the glider. She was in her fifth
month of pregnancy and I was almost eight years
old. A sudden urge came over me. I slid next to
her on the glider and laid my head on her arm.
"I love you," I said softly. "Do you love me?"
"Get your head off me," Dorothy spat
as she shoved me away from her. "No, I don't
love you. I've never loved you!" Her words
took my breath away. I had never felt so alone
in the world. Miss Hyde posed the difficult questions:
"How are we going to survive? Who is going
to love us?" I simply didn't know.
By the time Jakii was 15, she was acting as
a parent to her younger brother. Their mother
often disappeared for weeks at a time.
Dorothy would drop by once a month to leave us
a few quarters. With the grand sum of fifty cents
I would buy fresh hamburger meat for fifteen cents,
a large can of pork and beans for fifteen cents,
a loaf of bread for a dime and finally a nickel
package of Kool Aid. Sometimes the neighbors would
loan us some sugar. We tried to make this precious
food last for three or four days, but for the
rest of the month we became scavengers.
Whenever Dorothy stayed overnight with us, we
knew something was out of order in her life. Possibly
she was between lovers, she was sick, her lover's
husband was home, or maybe she just remembered
she had two children.
Even without any effort on her part, my mother's
reputation managed to follow me through my high
school years. I was never invited to parties or
sleep-overs at my classmates' homes, and the kids
knew more about my mother than I really understood.
When I was fourteen, some students began making
fun of me by telling me that my mother was a "bull-dagger."
I knew Dorothy dressed like a man and didn't even
walk like other moms, but I had no idea what the
term meant.
Finally Jakii asked a close family friend whom
she called "Uncle Bobby" for
an explanation.
"That terms refers to a woman who likes to
keep company with women rather than men,"
he explained, then added his own thoughts. "Maybe
they were born different."
I thanked Uncle Bobby for his insight, but my
next thought filled me with panic. I directed
this question quietly toward God.
"Lord, does that mean I have to be like Dorothy?"
The question had often crossed my mind, but this
time I trembled with the idea. If Uncle Bobby
was right about his idea that Dorothy had been
born that way, did that mean that I would turn
out that way, too? This thought began to haunt
me and in my mind I screamed, "No, no, no!"
By age 20, Jakii was living in California with
a man separated from his wife and family, and
became pregnant with his child. Her live-in boyfriend
was abusive, and after her son was bom, she moved
out on her own to escape her dysfunctional family
background and her boyfriend's abuse.
|
