Scared Little Boy

I was exposed in therapy last night. While going through timelines of trauma experienced during my childhood, my therapist concluded that I was a scared little boy. She was absolutely correct. And that was a bitter pill for me to swallow.

This was a hard reality to face all night. Shame came over me. Where I'm from, being scared is unacceptable. So I couldn't accept what was said to me. As true as this was, the thought of being a scared little boy was unbearable. Where I’m from, you might get punched in the face just for being scared.

Being tough was the only acceptable thing in the hood. I used to act like I was tough, walking around the neighborhood with a mean look. In reality, I was wearing a mask, trying to keep people away from me. I did not want to be tested by the guys in the streets. I was scared to death of them. These guys lived and breathed drama. All they knew was to fight. I had hoped my mean mug and tall stature would protect me. But deep down I was a scared little boy.

My teenage years were full of me stepping out of character. Guys would fight, I'd do the same. Guys would sell drugs, I'd be an accomplice. Guys would get shot, I'd spread the word. I write this in disgust of who I was. I used to follow guys whose pathways led to jail or the cemetery. And surely enough, a lot of fates were unfortunate. Thankfully I'm here to tell you this story. This scared little boy was around gangsters and just wanted to be accepted.

Everyday I was playing a character. There was one friend I had for a whole year. I was 13 and he was 14. He was a product of the street culture: gangbanging, drug dealing, etc. I would be with him all the time. While I didn’t do everything he did, I was around him enough to where people saw us as a pair. Many times he would mistreat me, whether with his words or with his hands. But at this time, he was my only friend. And this scared little boy just wanted to be accepted.

I spoke to an old friend the other night about my experiences growing up. I expressed how I wanted respect from the streets. I had told my therapist the same thing. My friend then asked me if I wanted respect from the streets, or if I just wanted community. That was a great question. I mean why would a scared little boy want respect from the streets? I really did just want community. And the streets happened to be what was available.