LeShelle taught me early that everyone had a hustle.
At night, I kept counting the minutes and hours before my new stepfather started creeping to my door. Since LeShelle wasnât there to shelter me, it would be my turn to cry into my pillow while some grown-ass man ripped my young pussy to pieces. But night after night, Reggie Douglas never darkened my bedroom door.
Soon the days rolled into weeks and then months, and all the Douglases pushed was me getting an education, talking all this shit about how I can do or be anything as long as I put my mind to it. That shit was funny as hell the first hundred times I heard it. However, after a while, I realized that the Douglases were serious. They were a walking, talking public service announcement. If you had an education, you can do this, or if you had an education, you can do that.
Reggie is a history professor at the University of Memphis, and Tracee works part-time for the public library. They are complete squares. Books litter their house from one end to another. Most times if they werenât reading a book, they were talking about one.
The first time they took me to the public library, they made it a big production, like it was a trip to Disney World or something. They gushed over just getting ready, and they were overly giddy during the short drive to the cement and glass building.
I didnât see what the big deal was. That place had just as many books as the Douglases had at home. Then they made the big announcement: I was allowed to check out my very own book. Whoopie! It took everything I had not to roll my eyes. Were these people serious? But with their wide eyes on me, I felt tremendous pressure to pick out a really good book, something that would impress them, something worthy to talk about at the breakfast table. I mustâve roamed those shelves for hours before finally settling on Edward Bloorâs Tangerine . I knew it was a good choice by the way Tracee lit up like a Christmas tree.
After the first year, I concluded that Tracee and Reggie didnât have a hustle. What you see is what you get. For a young girl of thirteen, it was a refreshing and welcome change of pace.
I began to trust them.
Then I began to love them.
It was odd at first. My feelings for the Douglases sort of felt like a betrayal to LeShelle. It was supposed to be just the two of us against the world, but life wasnât working out that way. LeShelle was in a group home, and I was on my own.
I wasnât stupid or naïve. I understood my sister got sent away because she was trying to protect me. But the Douglases offered something that was almost impossible for me to turn down: hope.
Inspired by my foster parents, I thought long and hard about what Reggie and Tracee were saying; then I started dreaming about my future instead of how to just survive the present. What if there was another life out there for meâsomething better than what the streets were promising? LeShelle wasnât the only one I knew going in and out of juvenile hall. Hell, it was damn near everybody around me, including my best girl, Essence. She got popped on her thirteenth birthday after going on a home burglary spree out in Cordova with a group of Queen Gs.
That wasnât the life I wanted for myself. Not if there was the possibility for something more. So I started to pay attention in school and found that I was a natural at math and science. Tracee mentioned that I would probably make a good doctor one dayâand the idea stuck. Dr. TaâShara Leigh Murphy.
It had a nice ring to it.
Then a year later, LeShelle showed up. I was thrilled at first, but then I saw how much my older sister had changed. She was harder, louder, bitter, and rabid for the illusion of power, money, and respect that the street life promised. At the Douglases, everything went to hell in a handbasketâfast. At every chance LeShelle got, sheâd curse out the Douglases, refuse to go to school, and
At night, I kept counting the minutes and hours before my new stepfather started creeping to my door. Since LeShelle wasnât there to shelter me, it would be my turn to cry into my pillow while some grown-ass man ripped my young pussy to pieces. But night after night, Reggie Douglas never darkened my bedroom door.
Soon the days rolled into weeks and then months, and all the Douglases pushed was me getting an education, talking all this shit about how I can do or be anything as long as I put my mind to it. That shit was funny as hell the first hundred times I heard it. However, after a while, I realized that the Douglases were serious. They were a walking, talking public service announcement. If you had an education, you can do this, or if you had an education, you can do that.
Reggie is a history professor at the University of Memphis, and Tracee works part-time for the public library. They are complete squares. Books litter their house from one end to another. Most times if they werenât reading a book, they were talking about one.
The first time they took me to the public library, they made it a big production, like it was a trip to Disney World or something. They gushed over just getting ready, and they were overly giddy during the short drive to the cement and glass building.
I didnât see what the big deal was. That place had just as many books as the Douglases had at home. Then they made the big announcement: I was allowed to check out my very own book. Whoopie! It took everything I had not to roll my eyes. Were these people serious? But with their wide eyes on me, I felt tremendous pressure to pick out a really good book, something that would impress them, something worthy to talk about at the breakfast table. I mustâve roamed those shelves for hours before finally settling on Edward Bloorâs Tangerine . I knew it was a good choice by the way Tracee lit up like a Christmas tree.
After the first year, I concluded that Tracee and Reggie didnât have a hustle. What you see is what you get. For a young girl of thirteen, it was a refreshing and welcome change of pace.
I began to trust them.
Then I began to love them.
It was odd at first. My feelings for the Douglases sort of felt like a betrayal to LeShelle. It was supposed to be just the two of us against the world, but life wasnât working out that way. LeShelle was in a group home, and I was on my own.
I wasnât stupid or naïve. I understood my sister got sent away because she was trying to protect me. But the Douglases offered something that was almost impossible for me to turn down: hope.
Inspired by my foster parents, I thought long and hard about what Reggie and Tracee were saying; then I started dreaming about my future instead of how to just survive the present. What if there was another life out there for meâsomething better than what the streets were promising? LeShelle wasnât the only one I knew going in and out of juvenile hall. Hell, it was damn near everybody around me, including my best girl, Essence. She got popped on her thirteenth birthday after going on a home burglary spree out in Cordova with a group of Queen Gs.
That wasnât the life I wanted for myself. Not if there was the possibility for something more. So I started to pay attention in school and found that I was a natural at math and science. Tracee mentioned that I would probably make a good doctor one dayâand the idea stuck. Dr. TaâShara Leigh Murphy.
It had a nice ring to it.
Then a year later, LeShelle showed up. I was thrilled at first, but then I saw how much my older sister had changed. She was harder, louder, bitter, and rabid for the illusion of power, money, and respect that the street life promised. At the Douglases, everything went to hell in a handbasketâfast. At every chance LeShelle got, sheâd curse out the Douglases, refuse to go to school, and
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