Brenda's Child

My mother died six months before my fifth birthday. I was fortunate enough as a child not to feel her absence because of my maternal grandmother. My “Ga-Ga,”as we affectionately called her, took responsibility for my sister and me after her twenty-three year old daughter succumbed to breast cancer. Ga-Ga became my mother and my best friend. Unfortunately she also battled with cancer (ovarian) and lost on Christmas Day in 1991. That day something in me died as well.

Without her I felt I had no purpose. I had no desire. Like a programmed robot, I systemically marched through my adolescent years: school, work and home. I made the honor roll, I participated in after-school activities, and hung out with friends. To the outside world, I was your average high school student. But inside, I was desolate, a candle whose flame had been blown out. I did things because I was expected to do them, not because I wanted to.

Then in my senior year,the FIRE in me was re-ignited by my Psychology/African-American History teacher,Carol Hoffman. She saw something in me that I didn't see in myself. This teacher made me want to learn again and she made me feel special.To this day, I’m still not sure what it is about that woman that made me feel good inside, that compelled me to reach for goals for myself and not just for others. Whatever it was, I’m thankful for it.

While I was in college, I wrote Mrs. Hoffman a letter telling her how influential she was to me. She had no idea that she’d made so much of an impact on my life in such a short period of time.That’s the thing about working with young people…sometimes you never know how much your time, love and support means to them until later.
From The Right Amount of Sunshine... Cultivating Little Girls into Young Ladies (2010) by Brenda's Child
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I do my best not to have regrets because I firmly believe every challenging experience has benefited my development. I only wished I had the language to name my experiences and the skill set to speak up about them.

Dark Times at a White Institution The racial trauma I experienced at that college was a rude introduction to the power and privilege dynamics of the Northeast.