First Taste Of Racism

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Well now My Father Is Gone. Shawnie Is gone. My Mother Is Gone. So That Leaves Carrie , Michael , And George's mother To Raise Me. Not That She Wanted Too but Had Too . Talk About Baby Momma Issues Right !!! 

It Was This Moment Right here That I Would Experience My First Taste Of Racism. An All White Fatherless , Motherless child Living On A Navajo Reservation under The Authority Of A bunch Of Siblings Who Hated me For what They Call ... Screwing up There Lives ... a Pale Face  In an All Dark Environment ( Again Another Common In My Life ) 

If Only I Could Have Known at That Moment That This Would be The Basis for My own Thought process .. Hate White People ... An Simple Statement That Is Profound In its interpretation. 

I Remember My Face being in The Red Caliche Dirt More Than My Feet. The Reservation Was called Bitter Springs About 22 Miles Outside Of Page Arizona. Gods Country.  I Remember Watching The Navajo Kids Go To The Candy Shop and When I Went To Go They Would Tell Me they Had Nothing To Sell Me. I Remember Watching Them Play With Dirt bikes And more While I Was Told I Wasn't Allowed In There Yard. A Very Lonely Life , A Very Lesson Learned Life . 
that Lesson , Hate My skin Color. Hate Who I Am. Still To This Day I Desperately Try To be what I Have As A vision For Myself In My head. One Day I Will Love Myself .. 

My Grandma Sanders ( My Dads mother ) Would eventually Come To Take me Around The Age Of 5 - 5 1/2 Until 6 And 1/2 . A very Long year, A very Hard year.  Still Over All That Year And A half With Her Was Probably The realest Life I Ever Had As A Child. 

It Was during This Time That I Would Also Meet My Aunt Debbie. Who I Can honestly Say Til This Day Still Hates Me ( Or Hates What She Doesn't understand Which Is Me ) And We Will Probably never Speak A Word To Each Other Again. I Wish Her , Her husband And Her Children the best Of Lives. Lord knows They Were Catholic And I Wasn't quite good Enough For There Lifestyle. You Know what Makes That Situation Hard Is That During That Whole Time None Of Them Wanted To even Try To Understand Me. They All Wanted Me To be just Like Them. All Perfect Perfect And Such. If There Is one Thing I Learned is That To be A Real human You have To Learn others Not just Yourself Or What Can You Compare being human To ... An Animal ??? 

It Takes A Rare Person Who has Been Thru What I have Been Thru Or understands The Pain Of which I Have Lived In My Entire Life. Only 2 People I Have Ever Met have any Of the Idea that Is What I Call My life. And I Mean Truly Understands not Just Says yeah Man I Feel ya. You Know Not about Racism .. You know Not About Murder Death And Pain .. And I Am Only 6 Years Old Now. For That Peaceful year And half Spent With My Grandma until I Was 6 Was The only Time I Felt Like I had A mother and A Father And They Were My Grandparents. 

You Remember Me Talking About George in Tennessee. Well This Is That Time. I Have This Memory Of George And I Playing Lego's in Grandmas Living Room ... A Vague Scattered Memory .. A barely Recalled Memory That Is Like  A hazy Fog Or A Bare Thread hanging From Our Favorite Laundry Day Sweater That Becomes a Part Of Us  ... Just There ... Always There ... 

Tennessee Was Amazing. Country back Life , Swimming holes , And Crawdad Fishing. Learned how To Fish And Swim that Year. Another Awesome Memory From that Time Raising baby Chickens With my Grandpa In An Incubator. I Would Look At Them And Try To name Them Either Transformer Names Or ninja Turtles. This year And A Half Is The basis for what I Call the Perfect Life that I Am Trying To Provide For My wife and Kids now. Failing miserably Too. So This Too becomes Just A memory , Just A Dream. 

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