Naleighna Kai's Literary Cafe Magazine May - Mother's Day Issue | Page 12

mom could clothe us cheaper if she
shopped at a second-hand store. You
can imagine “the look”. Her response
included, “Someone could have died
in those clothes.” We probably would
have had one outfit that we would
have had to wash by hand in the
bathroom sink every night before the
potential of a dead person’s clothes
being draped over any one of her
children. To be clear, she did believe
in hand-me-downs. As the youngest,
I can attest to that. She did draw the
line at the gently used clothing of
undisclosed origin, though.
When it came to grades, my parents
demanded the best. However, my
dad worked; my mom enforced. If
my dad had to enforce, well let’s just
say thankfully all my brothers made
it to adulthood. Yay them. According
to Mom, a “C” on a report card
meant you “can” do better. So when
a “C” in Algebra became part of my
experience, my mom found a tutor.
Unfortunately, said tutor lived in an
area infamously called Terror Town.
After school, I hopped on my bike and
rode to the tutor’s house, hoping that
none of the horrors that had befallen
others would fall on me. Of course,
if I didn’t want to ride my bike after
school through Terror Town to see
the tutor, I shouldn’t come home with
Cs on a report card, right? Looking
back, that may have been the last time I
received a C in Math. Well played, Mom.
As I made my own way into the
corporate world, I’ve lived two distinct
experiences. I’ve been given the
opportunity to excel as well as been
stifled and smothered with a smile. In
truth, I’ve been thrown under the bus
so often I could probably rebuild the
engine. However, I’ve also been lauded
as an example for others to follow. You’d
think there were two different people
living in the same body.
The expectations bequeathed by the
great kings and queens of Africa and
their descendant, my mom, don’t change.
They don’t suffer excuses. They neither
have the patience nor the tolerance. You
didn’t get the throne by politely asking
for it. Sometimes you’re given your
crown by the nature of your birth and
other times you earn it. Either way, you
always have to defend it.
I wouldn’t be a writer if I didn’t believe
that there are no walls built high, nor
strong enough, to limit my potential.
Words that people tell me about who I
am and what I can do rarely penetrate
the shell. If I’m not great today, then
that’s on me because I “can” do better.
No need for another ride through Terror
Town to figure that out.
So when the world tries to dictate who
I am, I refuse to internalize their image
because the great kings and queens of