G is gunn
Hhm
(home)
11 somb
(somebody)
JJer
(jermaine)
kkl
(kill)
llv
(love)
M frknka rl m
(Farrakhan real man)
Nnfkkk
(North America America^KKlC)
Oop
(open)
Pph
(punks)
Q qee litee
(Queen Latifah)
Rsrt
(respect)
S stp
(stop)
T2tn
(two ton)
Vvt
(vote)
Wwll
(weʼll)
X ma m ml
(mam man Malcolm)
Zzk
(zonked, mean like high)
Listen baby, Muver love you. Muver not dumb.
Listen baby. ABCDEFGHUKLMNOPQRSTUVW
XYZ.
Thas the alphabet. Twenty-six letters in all. Them letters make up words. Them words everything.
III
Boy. It's a boy. Borned at Harlem Hospital January 15, 1988. Abdul Jamal Louis Jones.
That is my baby's name. Abdul mean servant of god; Jamal, I forgot; Louis for Farrakhan, of course. At school, new girl Joyce, bring me a book wif African names. I awready had known, Abdul, if it a boy. But I didn't know what it mean.
My name mean somethin' valuable—Precious.
Claireece, that somebody else's name. I don't know where my muver get that shit from.
Well, I don't know 'bout baby, I'm happy 'bout baby, I'm sad about baby. Social worker come. I talk to her. She ask 'bout Little Mongo. I tell her Little Mongo wif my grandmother over on St Nicholas Ave. I probably shouldn't have done that. But I was tired. Tired of game, lying. Miz Rain said she read the truth shall set you free; say she not sure she believe it herself. Well, this truth gonna cause Mama to get kicked off welfare. 'Cause what she had been telling the
'fare is Mongo was living with her and she was taking care of bofe of us, so she was getting check for two dependent peoples and stuff. I don't know what's going to happen next. I know I gonna get my own money, but what that if I still in my mama's house? I need my own place, welfare don't give you that much. But main thing above everything else I want to go back to school. Thas all I think about—what they doing?
What they reading? Did I miss the feel trip? I think I did.
November was my birthday, I don't tell nobody so don't nobody know. But I light a candle for myself. I glad Precious Jones was born. I like baby I born. It gets to suckes from my bress.
First I don't like that. It hurt feel sore, then I like it.
He's a good baby. But he's not mine. I mean, he is mine, I push him out my pussy, but I didn't meet a boy 'n fall in love, sex up 'n have a baby.
I think I was rape.
I think what my fahver do is what Farrakhan said the white man did to the black woman. Oh it was terrible and he dood it in front of the black man; that's really terrible. Yeah, on the video, Farrakhan say during slavery times the white man just walk out to the slavery Harlem part where the niggers live separate from the mansions where the white people live and he take any black woman he want and if he feel like it he jus' gone and do the do on top of her even if her man there. This spozed to hurt the black man even more than it hurt the woman getting rape—
for the black man to have to see this raping.
My baby is pretty baby. I don't not love him. He is a rapist's baby. But that's OK, Miz Rain say we is a nation of raped children, that the black man in America today is the product of rape.
Still I don't want nobody to know but I tell again like when I was twelve. How can I say baby's fahver unknown when I know?
School, of everything, I know I want to get back to school. I got little baby suckes at my tittie, at my bress. I love Abdul. He normal. But I ain'? I want to go back to school. Abdul in my way.
Abdul can not go to Higher Education/Each One Teach One. What I'm gonna do? I love my baby but he ain' mine, he is but I didn't fuck for him. I was raped by my fahver. Now instead of life for me I got Abdul. But I love Abdul. I want go school love abdul schoolabdulschoolabdul.
I write Miz Rain in my journal, when she come hospital she write me back like school: Dr Miz Ms Rain,
all yr I sit els I nevr lrn
(all years I sit in class I never learn) bt I gt babe agn Babe bi my favr
(but I
Hhm
(home)
11 somb
(somebody)
JJer
(jermaine)
kkl
(kill)
llv
(love)
M frknka rl m
(Farrakhan real man)
Nnfkkk
(North America America^KKlC)
Oop
(open)
Pph
(punks)
Q qee litee
(Queen Latifah)
Rsrt
(respect)
S stp
(stop)
T2tn
(two ton)
Vvt
(vote)
Wwll
(weʼll)
X ma m ml
(mam man Malcolm)
Zzk
(zonked, mean like high)
Listen baby, Muver love you. Muver not dumb.
Listen baby. ABCDEFGHUKLMNOPQRSTUVW
XYZ.
Thas the alphabet. Twenty-six letters in all. Them letters make up words. Them words everything.
III
Boy. It's a boy. Borned at Harlem Hospital January 15, 1988. Abdul Jamal Louis Jones.
That is my baby's name. Abdul mean servant of god; Jamal, I forgot; Louis for Farrakhan, of course. At school, new girl Joyce, bring me a book wif African names. I awready had known, Abdul, if it a boy. But I didn't know what it mean.
My name mean somethin' valuable—Precious.
Claireece, that somebody else's name. I don't know where my muver get that shit from.
Well, I don't know 'bout baby, I'm happy 'bout baby, I'm sad about baby. Social worker come. I talk to her. She ask 'bout Little Mongo. I tell her Little Mongo wif my grandmother over on St Nicholas Ave. I probably shouldn't have done that. But I was tired. Tired of game, lying. Miz Rain said she read the truth shall set you free; say she not sure she believe it herself. Well, this truth gonna cause Mama to get kicked off welfare. 'Cause what she had been telling the
'fare is Mongo was living with her and she was taking care of bofe of us, so she was getting check for two dependent peoples and stuff. I don't know what's going to happen next. I know I gonna get my own money, but what that if I still in my mama's house? I need my own place, welfare don't give you that much. But main thing above everything else I want to go back to school. Thas all I think about—what they doing?
What they reading? Did I miss the feel trip? I think I did.
November was my birthday, I don't tell nobody so don't nobody know. But I light a candle for myself. I glad Precious Jones was born. I like baby I born. It gets to suckes from my bress.
First I don't like that. It hurt feel sore, then I like it.
He's a good baby. But he's not mine. I mean, he is mine, I push him out my pussy, but I didn't meet a boy 'n fall in love, sex up 'n have a baby.
I think I was rape.
I think what my fahver do is what Farrakhan said the white man did to the black woman. Oh it was terrible and he dood it in front of the black man; that's really terrible. Yeah, on the video, Farrakhan say during slavery times the white man just walk out to the slavery Harlem part where the niggers live separate from the mansions where the white people live and he take any black woman he want and if he feel like it he jus' gone and do the do on top of her even if her man there. This spozed to hurt the black man even more than it hurt the woman getting rape—
for the black man to have to see this raping.
My baby is pretty baby. I don't not love him. He is a rapist's baby. But that's OK, Miz Rain say we is a nation of raped children, that the black man in America today is the product of rape.
Still I don't want nobody to know but I tell again like when I was twelve. How can I say baby's fahver unknown when I know?
School, of everything, I know I want to get back to school. I got little baby suckes at my tittie, at my bress. I love Abdul. He normal. But I ain'? I want to go back to school. Abdul in my way.
Abdul can not go to Higher Education/Each One Teach One. What I'm gonna do? I love my baby but he ain' mine, he is but I didn't fuck for him. I was raped by my fahver. Now instead of life for me I got Abdul. But I love Abdul. I want go school love abdul schoolabdulschoolabdul.
I write Miz Rain in my journal, when she come hospital she write me back like school: Dr Miz Ms Rain,
all yr I sit els I nevr lrn
(all years I sit in class I never learn) bt I gt babe agn Babe bi my favr
(but I
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