Mark My Words

Sneak Peek

Chapter 1: Father, Son, and the Scale

It's Fall 2009. I've been at Bayside High School for about two months now—and did I mention all the Black boys already hate me? I guess it's because I'm in the closet, but how could they possibly know I like guys? (At least, that's what younger me thought.)

Anyway, it's parent-teacher conference night, and I'm failing math. Of course, my dad insists on speaking with my math teacher only. I'm doing well in all my other classes, but as usual, he only wants to hear the negative. Mr. Wong (my math teacher) tells him I'm failing and need to improve if I don't want to end up in summer school.

My dad's already disappointed in me because of my weight, my feminine side, and my sexuality—even though I'm still in the closet.

So after Mr. Wong pretty much said I sucked and needed a tutor, my dad called my mom and suggested I live with him for the next couple of months so I could "learn how to be a man." Now, my mom and dad are separated, but we both lived in Rochdale Village (Queens, NY)—just in separate buildings. I wasn't too scared because I knew my mother would never let me stay with his crazy ass. But to my surprise, she agreed without a fight. I was fucking flabbergasted—like, how could you let me live with the devil?

But I couldn't even be mad at my mom. I guess she was just trying to make sure I grew up with a strong father figure. Little did she know I'd be cutting myself and contemplating suicide.

Now that I'm living with Dad, my workouts are getting more and more intense. Oh yeah—forgot to mention—my dad made me work out every day. These workouts consisted of an hour on the treadmill at 4.5 speed, three sets of 5-minute jumping jacks, push-ups, and punching. Sometimes he'd be mentally abusive and say things like, "Boys don't have titties," just to crush my self-esteem. Since he couldn't hit me anymore—oh yes, my dad used to beat the shit out of me when I was younger—I'd get hit for gaining a pound or even holding my hand in a way he thought was too feminine.

Back then, I was too young to cut or think about suicide. But we'll get back to my younger days—just keep reading the book.

Anyway, it's 2009 and I'm living with Dad. My brother and I would usually come home from school, go to my dad's house, and then after he fed us, we'd walk over to my mom's place (since they lived within walking distance of each other). But since I was now living with Dad, I didn't go back with my brother. He was five years younger than me, and we went to different schools—I was 14, he was 9. He was absolutely my dad's favorite. Why, you ask? Well, Lamel was skinny, athletic, straight, and very lovable. Everybody loved Lamel. He was like Drew from Everybody Hates Chris. So, as you can probably tell, I was super jealous. But I never told him or made him feel like it was his fault. I was his older brother and I wanted him to know I loved him—which I did. But sometimes I would be a jealous bitch. I mean, could you blame me though? I watched my brother go back to my mom's house each night while I sat filled with envy and sadness.

It's been about two weeks living with Dad and "depressed" isn't even the fucking word. He would only let me eat salads, meat, and greens. Imagine being 14—not eating anything fun, having to keep your grades up, following a strict workout plan, being in the closet, and going to a school where people didn't like you because of something you couldn't help—or even fully understand. At this time, my self-esteem was at an all-time low. I started to cut myself because it gave me a sense of control—something I didn't have in any part of my life.

The only people who seemed to understand me were my small group of friends in high school. I don't talk to any of those bitches anymore, so we won't give them clout—but I do still keep in contact with Shanakay and Raquel. I'm sure they didn't even know half the shit I was going through at home. At school, the Black boys just weren't feeling me. I know I can come off as bougie and unapproachable—but I was just shy and afraid of being judged. Those kids didn't give a fuck. They saw an inch of weakness and attacked.