Dear Daddy by Samantha Burke

Dear Daddy,

  As I listen to you and Mommy try to choose a name for me, I can already tell you're going to be a great dad. I love to hear the stories Mommy tells her friends about you, especially the one where you saved both her and me from a car crash that would have ended in disaster. My absolute favorite thing is when you lay your warm hand on her stomach. I try to stretch my toes out to be able to touch you back.

  In just a few months I will be born, and I will be born a girl. You're going to make a great dad, but I need to ask you for a favor.

  When I am born you will be able to watch me grow. Like a flower, I'll start off small and slowly bloom into something strong and beautiful. I will strive for the impossible.

  You will play and dance with me. And when it's my turn to choose the game and I ask to paint your nails you’ll always be a good sport.

  You will love watching me in little league baseball and come to all my games. But it will break your heart when you see me cry as you break the news that next year I have to play softball instead of baseball because I'm a girl.

  Some days I will come home frustrated and confused because the boys were mean to me at recess, but you’ll cheer me up and tell me it’s because they like me, and that's just what boys do. That's probably what you did as a boy too.

  On the car rides to school you will talk with my friend's Daddy in the front seats while his son and I will sit in the back, listening half asleep and frustrated that we had to roll out of bed that morning. You will laugh and joke, and that is all it will be; just jokes.

  At the age of twelve I will come home and lock myself in my room. You won't know why or what to do, no matter how great of a dad you will be.

  At the age of fifteen I will finally come out to you about when I was raped. I will explain how my flower that was growing to be strong and beautiful, was plucked from its stem and is sitting in a stranger’s vase. You'll blame yourself, even though there was no way you could have known.

  Daddy, in just a few months I will be born, and I will be born a girl. Though we haven't yet met, I need to ask you for a favor:

  From the moment I am born you must teach me that the impossible is possible. You must explain to me that I shouldn't let anyone be mean to me, and that that is no way to show love. You should wait until I am old enough to understand that a joke is solely a joke, before you let me hear ones that shouldn’t be told as anything but. And Daddy, above all, teach me that being born a girl shouldn't be an obstacle.

Dear Daddy,

  Hearing you talk to Mommy about all the plans you have for me, teaching me to bat and throw a ball, gets me excited already. In just a few months I will be born, and I will be born a boy.

  When I am born you will get the chance to feel young again, or at least wish you could. You will keep chasing me around the field just to hear my laugh, no matter how tired you get.

  You will never forget our weekend ritual where you take me to the park to play whichever sport we are in the mood for that day. You will keep coming back, no matter how many times I accidentally hit you in the balls.

  I learn that you're the best guy around when it comes to videogames. And sometimes, you even let me be better.

  Overall, you will be a great dad, but I need to ask you for a favor.

  From the moment I'm born I'll strive to be the best. And above all, I'll strive to meet your expectations.

  I will be taught that the most shameful thing is to cry when anyone is around. So, I will bottle up my emotions. My way of relieving stress will be through a punching bag.

  By the age of fifteen I will develop an addiction to being as ripped as possible, which technically means I'll just be fitting the standard.

 By the time I am seventeen it will be drilled into my brain that I can never hit a girl, no matter the circumstance. But no one will tell the girls that they can't hit me.

 I will be stereotyped as a horny douchebag, and even called a rapist. It won't matter that I'm a virgin.

 At the age of twenty my career will be ruined because I will be accused of rape simply because the next day she felt regret. We were both drunk, but it'll be her word against mine.

 Daddy, don’t take this the wrong way. You will be a great dad, but, I need to ask you for a favor:

 In just a few months, I will be born, and I will be born a boy. From the moment I am born you must teach me that if I am trying my best, I am my best. You must show me that I am human, and that I am allowed to cry. You must understand that even though I am a boy, I am insecure too. You must teach me that I deserve to be treated with respect, and that I deserve to be loved. And Daddy, if all else fails, show me that being born a boy shouldn’t be my greatest challenge.

Behind the Name Adriana by Adriana

INNER CITY STORIES

Everyone has secrets, right?

Buried deep down in the dark

Well, mine is coming to the light…

It all started in a bowling alley

Birthday party for Gaby

I was having such an amazing time

Until nature called

That's when things got out of control

Heading towards my destination someone stopped me in my tracks

I spun around to see who it was

I saw a man and a woman

And as my 7 year-old self

I didn't see danger at all

Well, I was wrong

Because in a matter of seconds

I was pinned to the bathroom door

They pushed me inside and locked everything

It's strange how just in a matter of seconds everything changes

I don't think that anyone will understand how I felt that day

I tried to fly away, but my wings they had cut

My mind filled with confusion, theirs filled with lust

Tears danced down my cheeks

Their cold touch like a vacuum, sucking out all the life out of me

Their ears were wide open, but they wouldn't hear my pleas

Unable to escape or defend myself

The man spoke up with a heavy panting breath

Saying, “Don't cry, Adriana, we just want to have fun”

From that day on every time I heard my name

Memories came hitting me like a truck

Ever since that day I’ve hated the name Adriana

And now for the rest of my life I’ll say

Hi, my name is Mary, nice to meet you.

Finally Free by Kristen Aponte

INNER CITY STORIES

I was trapped in a nightmare

All alone and scared

No one to hear the little girl yell

My nightmares didn’t just happen once

Not two or three or even four
You held me down and took my life

Now I have no place to go
I try and run to get to a place
Where I can be free

But you’re always there

Watching my every step

My every breath

One day I will beat you

I will grow strong

And when I do

I will finally be free

Scenes from Our Movie by Amya Green

INNER CITY STORIES

I’ve told this movie before, like it was nothing

We all do it, even though we feel something

But really my feelings are kind of hurt

And lately I think I’ve been in this blur

Been a bit in the dark, this funk, it’s just not me

Up all night, I can barely catch any sleep

Oh no, it's already half past 3!

Sometimes I stay awake until my morning alarm beeps

I feel like my eyes want to close, but they won’t

But anyway, this is how the movie goes

I was fresh out of school, I had just gotten home

When I pulled out the electrical device called a telephone

Went on Facebook, and guess what?

I had a surprised look

It was you,

You had liked all my Facebook photos

A couple weeks later you messaged me

Speaking just a little bit sexually

And I was with it, I must admit it

Now I wish I never even did it

Even though it felt so good when your thumper was up in it

You were my first, but you never knew

Until just a few days ago I decided to tell you

How did it go?

Let’s just say

It’s crazy how when you finally speak the truth

It still takes convincing just to get someone to believe you

It was you,

You were the one who took my innocence

I still wonder how I ended up in this crazy predicament

But you were you so inviting, I was with it

My sentiments for you steadily grew

Like a flower that starts off small and eventually blooms

Being in your presence was like inhaling treacherous fumes

You were toxic

Every time you came around

Your effect was hypnotic

The nonfiction me was gone, and the imposter came upon me

Your way of words was so smooth, like butter and cream

This just wasn’t my character, to tell the truth

This isn’t something I’d normally do

I knew it was wrong

I knew it wasn't right

But every night when I lay down in my bed

The flashbacks of the coition kept playing

Like a broken record in my head

Finally, I ended up telling you how I feel

And you made it clear there’d never be a deal

My aspiration for this becoming a relationship would never be real.

A friendship with a benefit, you said.

Yet was it even a friendship?

This connection felt so loosely knit

Most teenagers might think friends with benefits is pretty lit

But they’re wrong, when all is said

Because when it all comes down to feelings

Guys kick rocks and you never hear from them again

As if he never even pushed his love stick in

Was it something that I did?

I was vexed, disappointed, and more than a bit hurt

Because in the end you did me dirt

But then again, how can I really be mad?

Was this my karma for lying to myself so bad?

Hell no, I can’t be mad, because last time I checked

It takes two people to do something so stupendous and senseless

Now I realize I looked like his little apprentice

That last line was kind of relentless, but then you’re careless

Now who’s the one who’s waxing garrulous?

I think my vocabulary is simply tremendous

Again, irrelevant

Still, here I am

Writing a poem about a dog who doesn’t even feel sad

A dog that only barks at me when he wants to make sure

Our secrets remain unknown, his actions obscure

I don’t know why I stress all this alone

He craves what’s between a woman's legs as if it was a bone

He doesn’t care how I feel as long as the rest of the movie isn’t told

But enough of making you look like the criminal and myself a scold

Even though it might not matter to you as an individual

Because the effect on you has obviously been minimal

This is something I’ll get over, but never forget

Even now when I lie down in my bed

The scenes from our movie still play on

Like a broken record in my head.

The Pride of a Queen by Aroosha Tabb

INNER CITY STORIES

I am a queen in my world.

I will treat myself as a queen,

Only allowing others to treat me like a queen.

I will die knowing that somebody loves me.

I will allow my imagination and creativity to make me millions.

With close family, friends, and my knowledge

I will rule my life!

My head will always be held high,

But I will stay humble and friendly.

I will say and believe that

I am beautiful!

I will find my king and he’ll

love me for me.

I’ll have a baby boy that’ll carry the

Tabb name even higher than I will.

I will no longer stand to be depressed,

but instead be optimistic, open-minded, and active in this world.

No longer will I downgrade my looks

Or let anybody abuse me.

I will be known as:

Graceful, caring, loving, understanding, hardworking, and beautiful (inside and outside) A person you can turn to, if you need an ear and/or somebody to comfort you.

This is just the pride of a TRUE QUEEN!

Honesty by Mariah Williams

INNER CITY STORIES

This feels like it’s not real.

Like I can wake up and I won’t feel so terrible.

How can a feeling so comforting be so harmful?

This feeling so familiar, yet so foreign

I look so deeply into these dark pools and I think.

What brought me here?

I have nobody to tell.

I don’t want to lose her or hurt her.

So what can I do besides hide from these harsh truths

Maybe happiness can substitute for this loss

But then again when that happiness turns into regret I will have nobody

I couldn’t live with her hating me

But right now I’m so confused

I hate myself for even considering these violent delights

Though, I can’t help but not care, due to my knowledge that

I will have to deal with such violent ends.

The Master Plan by Julia Conant

INNER CITY STORIES

He's just here to watch me,
To ensure that I don't sin,
To make sure I don't do anything with you that I used to do with him

He's like a dictator,
The way he watches our every move,
If I was to so much as breathe in your direction, he'd disapprove

And if I were to look back at you,
I'd get penalized,
Which is a shame. You look so cute with the sun in shining your eyes

As my ex-boyfriend,
He has absolutely no right,
No right to make me feel like I can't even stand by your side

So just run with me,
Run as fast as you can,
He can't catch us as long as we have a master plan

We can disguise ourselves,
Cut our hair, change our names,
Stick with me, even though this must sound insane

We can find an escape route,
Like jumping out the window!
If we do it really fast, he'll never know

What if we hide out
In the classroom 'til he leaves?
Just sitting, laughing, talking; partners in crime, thick as thieves

We can hire stunt doubles,
To distract the wing-nut,
Although I doubt anyone else is attractive enough to pull off being us

I'll do whatever it takes,
Think up a billion crazy schemes,
When it comes to being alone with you, I'll gladly go to extremes

Another Wound by Aroosha Tabb

INNER CITY STORIES

How could I cope with such pain?
How can something like this end everything?

Something so beautiful that this world destroyed.
Just another thing that destroys my life.
Just another reason I would like to die.
Just another person who created a crater in my heart.

I’ll remember all the times we had.
All the laughs and tears that spilled out of each other.
I’ll feel your presence.
I’ll never know why this happened,
But I will always blame myself.

No matter how much I pretend
And hide the fact that it bothers me,
I’ll stay broken inside.

This cut is small,
But it’s the deepest, so far.
This cut stings.
It burns.
All I want to do is conceal it.
All I want to do is take it off my mind,
But that’s impossible.

The Roast by Julia Conant

INNER CITY STORIES

A-Side

There comes a time of year where giving is what you do,
So I wrote this fire roast, from me to you

On your mark, get set, are you ready to go?
Cause here comes the roast of my good friend, yo

An atheist with a biblical name? Yeah, that sounds right,
If someone even mentions religion, you're ready to fight

I think you must have a few loose screws
If your idol is a guy that lets bugs bite him for views

I text you at five, do I get a reply?
Of course! Just after a year goes by

You sleep in class all the time cause you stay up 'til daylight,
Probably watching hentai, don’t try to deny

You dress like a hobo with no sense of style,
Always look like you're about to go jog a mile

Except you don't, you just meander around,
Content with the fact you weigh 230 pounds

You have the nerve to tell me that my driving is poo,
When you haven't gotten behind the wheel since June

Your worst enemy is a teacher,
You want to defeat her,
Your eyes are your only redeeming feature

"I'm straight!" you claim,
Your jokes are lame,
You look like the hunchback of Notre Dame

You scrub toilets as a job,
You look like a blob,
You're nothing but a lazy slob

I'd better stop now, so you can go wipe your tears,
So Merry Christmas and Happy New Years

 

B-Side

There comes a time of year where giving is what you do,
So I wrote this confession, from me to you

On your mark, get set, are you ready to go?
Cause here comes the part you never wanted to know

Some could say I'm possessive of you. Yup, that's about right!
Whenever she puts her hand on your shoulder, I'm ready to fight

I try to deny it, but there's just no use,
I'm entranced by those beautiful baby blues

I text you at five, eagerly wait for a reply,
And once I get one, I feel like I can fly

We talk in class all the time, you make me laugh 'til I cry,
And I don't even know why, but it just feels so right

The sight of you in your dad's oversized coat makes me smile,
And why does that maroon t-shirt make me go wild?

Your voice is one of my favorite sounds,
I want to hold your hand, if I could just grab it somehow

So scared of what would happen if you only knew,
I'm completely, entirely obsessed with you

When you're with me,
You're the only one that I see,
I can't help it; you fill me to the brim with glee

When I'm around you,
I don't know what to do,
I'm addicted, and I don't think you have a clue

But that's more than okay,
Because you would run away,
If you knew just how much I want you to stay

I'd better stop now before I wind up in tears,
So Merry Christmas, I'll love you for all of my years.

To Everyone in the Struggle by Justyce Grant

INNER CITY STORIES

To all the kids in the hood, work hard and do what you should. Never say you can’t because we all know you could. The streets don’t show no love and that’s a fact, so don’t try to be like everyone else -- sometimes it’s okay to be wack. And to the white people that laugh at us blacks, one day we’ll all come together as a pack. So don’t sleep on us, don't even take a nap.

I lost my brother to these streets, may his soul rest in peace; not only did he leave me with intelligence, he left me with a niece. She’s big now, almost five, and since my brother is no longer alive, it’s up to me to strive. That’s why I aim for the sky and always keep my head high. Gotta be real with her because my brother never told a lie.

Back to the kids in the hood, you can make it out. Don’t worry about Facebook thugs, they all do it for clout. Always respect your mom, without a doubt, even when she reaches the point when she wants you out -- just respect her decision and find another route.

To the girls who look to boys for love, there’s only one man that can give you all you need, and he’s up above. You need to learn not to push and shove for love, because once again it all comes from the man above.

And to all the single fathers carrying a mop, there's hope and I give you all my props; not all fathers can do what you do -- the love you have for your child is oh so true. You give her the world, from clothes to shoes, because in the end she's just a duplicate of you. And to all the deadbeat fathers that left after they got nasty in the sheets, I pray that your child never ends up on the streets; and if they do I hope you realize that it could've been because of you. Nobody told you to leave, you could have stayed; being around for your child is the right way. One day maybe when your hair turns grey, you're gonna wish you stayed.

And to the deadbeat moms, did you really waste your time giving birth? Bringing your child onto this earth? Your child is oh so hurt that you decided to treat them just like dirt. You took the time out to flirt, now make some time to at least buy your child a shirt. I've been through it all, watched my mom fall, but now we're all together as a family and standing tall.

We Look for Ways by Mariah Williams

"What do we become when we put down the scripts
written by history and memory, when each person before us
can be seen free of the cultural or personal narrative we've
nherited or devised? When we, ourselves, can taste that freedom.”
– REBECCA WALKER
Black,White,andJewish: Autobiography of A Shifting Self

–
INNER CITY STORIES

We all look for ways to separate ourselves from others.

We focus on skin color and height

Backgrounds and family problems

We focus on everything from the color of someone’s eyes

To the texture of their hair

We pay no attention to the things deeper than appearance

The things you might have to look a little closer at

Or the things you might not see when you first glance someone’s way

We pay no attention to our similarities

Or how relatable the struggles of someone else may be

We do not realize

We all breath the same air

We all see the same sun and stars and moon

We all have blood running through our veins

We all laugh and cry

We all struggle

We all look for ways to separate ourselves from others

In the Mirror by Mariah Williams

“The things you think are the disasters in your life
are not the disasters really. Almost anything can be turned around:
out of every ditch, a path, if you can only see it.” 
― HILARY MANTEL, Bring Up the Bodies

–
INNER CITY STORIES

I struggle to express my emotions

I hide my sadness with anger

And I hide my anger behind raised fists and harsh words

You continue to test me

You find humor within my fits of rage

You find my wounds and press into them until tears begin falling from my eyes

My frustration is aimed so perfectly at you

But though my hands are so steady

And my mind is set on engulfing you with such a horrific anger

I fear that this frustration will ricochet and like an arrow pierce my heart and fill me only with pain

This stress I allow you to cause me is unbearable

It scares me that someone so unintelligent and dim could have such a negative effect on me

You see through me

You see my need to feel wanted and cared for

You do not find my wounds, you create them

I could not quite recognize you for such a long time

But when I finally feel at peace because you are finally not with me

I see you staring back at me

Such a familiar face

Someone I once found comfort in seeing

Someone who I was so glad to wake up to every morning

Now so terrifying

This face has not been in my nightmares

This face has never been in my fears

This face I have only seen in the mirror

Good Looking Out, Momma by Francisco Contreras

"Find out what makes you kinder, what opens you up and
brings out the most loving, generous, and unafraid version of you—
and go after those things as if nothing else matters.
Because, actually, nothing else does.” 
―GEORGE SAUNDERS
Congratulations, by the way: Some Thoughts on Kindness

–
INNER CITY STORIES

I wanna give my kids what I’ve never gotten,

He has a son, well my father must’ve forgotten.

It’s all good though, I’ll sit back as I pack the herb.

It's easy to pull the trigger, but can you get yo momma what she deserves?

I'm just saying, bro, the truth hurts.

Now I'm all dressed up finally going to church,

I told god I may not be perfect,

That I'm still learning, trying to make life worth it.

Momma, you raised me with no assistance

The reason my father and I are so distanced

Is because he left and made it seem I had no existence.

I got the formula from you, mom,

You've passed the recipe like a baton.

And I will add on,

So my children can carry it along.

If I ever did you wrong, I apologize,

For now on I'll take your advice,

And stop hanging with those reckless guys,

For now I know mothers don't lie

When they spot “Friends” with snake eyes.

Good looking out, momma.

The Life You Choose by Jennifer Mol

"People gave names to things so they could tell stories about them,
goddam fairy tales about children who got out alive."
–SAM LIPSYTE, The Fun Parts

–
INNER CITY STORIES

I can say every single person in my family has been to jail and back. That's not something to be proud of; it’s a pattern I’ve got to break. Some people want or like to project an image that they're hard and claim they did this and that, but it's just made up trap stories about yourself. Everyone thinks it's all fun and games, until one day you're outside chilling on the porch and an innocent kid on the block playing hop scotch on the sidewalks get shot in the brain.
It's all fun and games until you see someone walking down the street and getting gunned down in a blink of an eye, their life taken away just like that by hot shells. It's all fun and games until you get caught by the cops and you can't afford a lawyer, so you getting life in jail for some fast money. I can't lie, fast money is enjoyable at first, but it won't last forever.
You don't know the feeling of adrenaline flowing through your body when you're holding that gun. It's in your hands, you have the power. Are you gonna shoot or not? Hold your breath steady, cock it back, aim at your target and pull the trigger. You can't hear anything but the sound of the last breath of that person grasping for air. The numb feeling you get when you see the look on that person’s face as their body drops to the hard ground. That person had a family, was once an innocent kid, was once someone's brother or son and now lies shot dead. Staring blankly at the ground, what's your next move? Run?

Now you're in the bathroom, the hot water running in the sink as you watch the blood on your hands flowing down the drain. Bagging up the gun and blood that stained your shoes and clothes, ready to throw it all in the trash. It's only going to be a couple of hours before they catch you.

What's your next move? Run? It's too late already, there's banging and kicking at your front door. Now there are red lasers aiming at your head. Cops screaming "Hands up!" Dropping down to your knees, your eyes looking up to the ceiling, begging and praying to God that you can take it all back. It's already done, you can't go back from that.

If you're not ready for the consequences that come with it, then why do it?
Are you ready to leave that warm house of yours for a cold cell? Are you ready to leave that comfortable bed of yours for a metal one? Are you ready to leave that good food for some shit they just throw on that plastic tray?

What I'm trying to say is, stay in your lane. The thing with everyone is they think they're hard and tough, until something actually goes down; that's when they turn to sheep. So continue to do what you're good at, whether it's school, sports, work, or a passion of yours, because if you're enjoying the freedom you have right now, I promise you, if you don’t stay in your lane, you won't last.

The Day of the Fire by Jayda Pontes

INNER CITY STORIES

I thought it would be like any other day coming home from school, eating lunch while doing homework, and then begging my mom to let me go outside and play with my neighbors. I soon realized it wasn't going to be a normal day after all. Instead, it turned out to be the worst day of my life!  I was outside playing with my friends; we were riding bikes, roller blading, playing tag, and doing each other’s hair. My friend’s mom had to step out of the house and go to CVS to get medicine for her younger daughter who had a fever and a bad headache. As we continued playing, I suddenly started seeing and smelling smoke; there was a thick black cloud of smoke coming out from underneath my friend’s front door. We all just stood there for several minutes, until her mom came back along with her dad; they both jumped out the car and told us to move quickly to the far side of the parking lot. Her dad ran into the house and got their little dog, whose name was Georgie, who had been trapped inside the house. Her mom was on the phone with the police, telling them that a fire had occurred on the first floor and that it was working its way up to the third floor, where I lived. I was in shock; my mom and my baby brother were upstairs getting ready to take a nap. My mom had specifically told me to come back upstairs at a certain time.

We all started screaming, “Fire! Fire!” to warn everyone in the building so they could evacuate. Even with all the screaming and the smoke detector going off, my mom still did not answer. I was trying to run upstairs to wake up my mom, but my neighbors would not allow me to.  So I started screaming, “MOM! MOM!” at the top of my lungs with all my might; it was such a relief to finally hear her voice and see her head pop out of the window. She asked, “Is there a fire?” and we all screamed, “YES!” Then she asked, “In the front or in the back of the building?” We all screamed, “In the back!” and then she called out, “I’m gonna run out the front!”

I was so relieved to see her run out into the front yard with my baby brother in her arms. Then my mom started screaming, “Baggia Baggia!” That was the name of our dog, who came dashing out of the front door. We all just stood side by side watching the fire, waiting for the firefighters to arrive; it felt like forever. We finally heard the fire truck sirens approaching, and then we saw the fire truck. We watched as the firemen unloaded the hose and put up the ladder; we also heard a loud boom go off inside the house. Finally the firemen had the fire under control. The Red Cross arrived and spoke with my mom; they gave us money to stay in a hotel for three days. My mother still sent me to school even though I had no uniform to wear. I felt embarrassed and awkward because everyone was making fun of me; they didn't know what I had been through and how my family and I had lost everything.  The school tried to suspend me for not wearing my uniform; I called my mom crying and she came to the school and talked to my social worker, who was very understanding and helpful. She was able to donate school supplies and a uniform, which we were very grateful for. The valuable lesson I learned from this frightening experience is that it's not material things that are important. Rather, what’s really important is family and who's there for you when you need them the most.

Outcome by Janely Lopez

INNER CITY STORIES

For what you have put me through, you're weak. For what you have put me through, I’m now stronger than you. For what you have put me through, I’ve become your competition. All these years I’ve been climbing up to your interesting mind, only to find out my effort wasn't worth it. I didn't deserve its meanness. Yet your weakness is my strength, not only to know I am truer than you, but to learn I am just not an ordinary girl. You look at me from the outside the same way you're so used to seeing the world, society, and people. You don't recognize minds and souls that are peaceful. You don't see beauty. You’ve failed the humanity test. But you’re stuck on false pride that keeps you from doing what’s best. So be my guest and open the door to a new path, for now you are my past; this sorrow shall never last.

Pudgie by Carmen Nieves

"We get our butts kicked by real life, and people come to our defense,
and help us, and we learn that we’re not separate, and don’t want to be.
We see people near and dear to us dropping away, and are gradually convinced
that maybe we too will drop away (someday, a long time from now)."
―GEORGE SAUNDERS, Congratulations, by the way: Some Thoughts on Kindness

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INNER CITY STORIES

Pudgie was like my uncle, my best friend when I was little. I lived on Camp Street and if I wasn't with my grandparents I was with him. He didn't have any children of his own at the time, so I was his princess. He spoiled me like crazy, he would get me anything I wanted and he even let me dress him up and all. He and I shared this weird love of cheetos and peanut butter! We put them on everything. One of the worst days of my life was when he was taken away from us, so here’s what I’ve always wanted to tell him.

Dear Pudgie,

I was so little when you passed I don’t remember a lot about you, but I remember that I loved you so much. The tiny memories I have of you slowly fade away and I fight to grasp onto them every single day. I can’t help but think that maybe if I didn’t ask you to go to the corner store they wouldn’t have shot you, or at least maybe not that night. I think of you every day, and every day I try and tell myself it wasn’t my fault; I was three years old, how could I have known? You didn’t even get to have a family of your own, how could they do this to you? I’m sorry you never got justice, but that’s okay because they’ll get what’s coming to them. You’ll always reside in our hearts. You’re probably up there having a beer with Welo right now, so tell him I said hi, until we meet again.

Her Undercover Thoughts by Justyce Grant

INNER CITY STORIES

“Just keep your eyes closed, baby, it won’t hurt a bit; I got you, I ain't leaving until we in a pit.” Next thing you know, “Who needs a shawty? They ain't shit.”

You get the point? Nah you’re missing it. Ya playing girls like it's lit; ya’ll say anything until it's time to be real. It takes one of your boys being killed, or a gunshot wound finally getting healed. But there’s a girl in the bathroom right now ready to pop a pill. All the pain she bears, but who really cares? It all connects to one point. Boy meets girl, girl meets boy: “But mom, he's different, he won't treat me like a toy.” She tries to hide the fact that they're all the same. They don't feel pain in this sick world, where love is just a game; everyone wants fame and no one feels shame. She cries into a pillow, weeping like a willow wishing she had both her parents; but she doesn’t, so mom has to play both parts. Dad drifted off like a loose shopping cart. She looks to boys for comfort; no one can see she's already six feet under, and she hearing the thunder. She plays along with dudes because she needs to act cool. “Babygirl, that's the wave, it’ll be okay, just keep your head high and aim for the prize.” Nobody knows this either but she's not scared to die. No, this is not a lie; all these thoughts came from being with a boy: “But mom, he's different, he won't treat me like a toy.”

Someone Who Means So Much by Dalissa Hernandez

My grandfather was the greatest person alive. He was my best friend, a father figure in my life, and everything else. He was my whole heart. My joy. He had the biggest heart, loved his family more than he loved himself, and was always trying to help someone. My grandfather was a man of his word. When I was little girl, he always took care of me. He always gave me my favorite cereal in the morning, made clubhouses for me out of sofa pillows and blankets, and always made sure I was never bored. He taught me all my life lessons as a little girl. He’s had such a great impact on my life. He would walk me to school and watch me play on the chalked, dented, and cracked concrete during morning recess. It was always the little things he did that mattered so much to me. I tear up every time I think of him. My grandfather always made sure everyone was okay before he was. He always wanted everyone to be at peace with themselves. I think that was the problem. He spent so much of his time making sure others were okay, that he didn’t have time to make sure he was okay. As my grandfather got older, he became more and more unhappy. Things in general became a lot harder for my family throughout the past two years. On Father’s Day of 2016, I lost my grandfather to suicide. A hole sits in my heart until this very day. He will always be remembered. He is my joy and happiness, and instead of dwelling on what happened, I choose to think about all the amazing things he and I did together. All the things he has done for my family and me. No one will ever take my grandfather’s place. No one can ever compare to my grandfather. He will always be the greatest person in my life! I am so grateful for the time I spent here on earth with him. He means so much to me. He is the person who means the most to me. I love you and miss you dearly, Abuelo.

Childhood in the Projects by Dalissa Hernandez

“It seems to me, that this, too, is how memory works.
What we remember of what was done to us shapes our view,
molds us, sets our stance. But what we remember is past,
it no longer exists, and yet we hold on to it, live by it,
surrender so much control to it. What do we become when we
put down the scripts written by history and memory, when each person before us can be seen free of the cultural or personal narrative we've inherited or devised? When we, ourselves, can taste that freedom.”
– REBECCA WALKER
Black,White,andJewish: Autobiography of A Shifting Self

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INNER CITY STORIES

My name is Dalissa; I was born in Florida and raised here in New Britain, CT. When I moved to New Britain, I went straight to the projects with the few family members that had come with me. At first, it was just my mom, dad, brother, and me. My dad was always at work to provide food, shelter, clothing, and other things for us. My mother was always working double shifts to cover expenses that couldn’t be covered from just my father’s income. Most of my childhood years, my brother and I would always look out for each other when our parents weren’t home. Something very traumatic happened in my childhood life that I’m able to talk about even now. What happened has caused such a burden on my life as a child, especially not being able to share it with my family. It took me a few years to overcome that certain obstacle in my life. Not too long after my breakthrough, my baby sister was born, a blessing to the family. We were so grateful to have her, although our financial struggle became even more intense having to provide for another child.

As a child, however, I never knew we struggled. I’d see kids with other things and wonder why I couldn’t have that, though I never questioned my parents about it. I’d hear kids at school talking about their houses and wondered why I didn’t live in one, but lived instead in the projects. As I grew I began to realize these things were based on money. There was a reason why I didn’t have what the other kids had. Their idea of fun was going to places that cost lots of money. My idea of fun was playing tag, hide and seek, and manhunt in the area around our apartment till the sun went down with a few kids on the block. This wasn’t the best circumstance for me, though. I was on the streets a lot. I found myself there every day. I was always getting myself into some sort of trouble as a little girl, stealing from stores and houses because I was angry that I didn’t have what everyone else had. I found myself breaking into homes with friends at the age of nine. I wasn’t going down the right path. As I grew older, I became angry at our struggle. I felt it was not fair. Not only our struggle. But family issues, lack of motivation, wrong teachings. It all made me so angry. I was such an angry child.

I can sit here and talk about myself all day. But this . . . this is what made me the person I am today. I have made my mistakes and have grown from them. I have experienced struggle and have overcome it. I have dealt with trials and tribulations in my life. I’ve learned my rights from my wrongs. Today I am a woman of determination, strength, and courage. I like to compare myself to the Lotus Flower. It’s a flower that grew from mud. It represents overcoming obstacles and rising from struggle. I am thankful for what I’ve dealt with as a child. It made me who I am today. In all honesty, I’d be completely lost and clueless if it weren’t for my childhood.