The Miss Drew Pageant

Ironically, I spoke with Duke on yesterday. For the first time in 16 years, I got upset with him and had to hang up before he could say goodbye. At times he becomes extremely demanding of my time, and finances. There is an expectation of weekly visits, deposits into money accounts and monthly food baskets. And when these things are not delivered as expected, he throws and emotional tantrum, claiming that his family is neglecting him. That upsets me because it minimizes all support provided prior to his fit. I now feel horrible because I can’t fathom being locked up for any time, yet alone, 16 years. My adulthood was not taken away from me and I am able to move around as freely as I would like. However, part of me feels like Duke doesn’t understand me. He doesn’t understand the struggles I encounter as a civilian. The monotony of prison culture, I believe, provides a certain degree of peace. Civilians live daily with the noise of responsibility and the worries associated with those responsibilities. But as I continue to write, I’m thinking, Charkes, how can he wrap his head around your world? From his lens, you have freedom, something he has been dying for for more than a decade, something he has been searching for since he was a child. I will apologize.

Fast forwarding to my pre-teen and teenage years, which were the worst…..I attended Charles R. Drew Middle school. Secondary school was hard because I was at an age where I was trying to understand myself. I was trying to identify with groups of people who’s lives were not identical to mine. I was an adult but wanted so badly to be a child. Our lack of resources made identifying more difficult. There was no way that after being able to find people you thought were cool, they would allow you into their circles if you didn’t look or even smell like them. At times, our lights and water would be disconnected at the same time. I mean, for weeks. I couldn’t brush my teeth nor my coochie. Unimaginable, huh? Well it’s true. Just ask some of my old classmates reading this post. I remember being dismissed from my eighth grade english class and sitting until everyone was gone for fear of someone getting a whiff of the odor that had marinated while being seated for an hour . Babalu didn’t buy deodorant on a consistent basis either. I would keep my arms tightly pinned to my sides so no one would smell the ever so fragrant must (not musk, lol) seeping through my armpits. And when things got really bad, I would run to the bathroom to use the pink soap in the round dispenser with the metal spout at the end. Y’all know, the one you had to push up inorder to get the soap out, LMAO! I would take the soap and rub it on my armpits, giving me about 20 minutes of time before I would start to smell like an onion again.

One of my most fond middle school memories was the Mrs. Charles R. Drew Middle pageant. Yes, I did run and was super excited about it. I wish I could call out the names of my opponents, but you know who you are. We practiced for two weeks and the school’s seventh grade english teacher was our sponsor and coach. She was super cool, sort of like me, now. Our introduction was to “Teddy’s Jam”. Every time I hear “Jam, Oh Jam, Jaaaam, Teddy Jam for me” , I go back to that pageant. When it was time to pick a talent, without a second thought, I knew that I would sing Anita Baker’s “Rapture”. LOL, I was in the eight grade, what in dee hell did I know about being caught up in anyone’s rapture? Well maybe, Babalu’s. We had to have outfits for different phases of the show and while I could make due with the majority of the dress changes, there was one that would be a little more challenging. THE GOWN!!! What was I to do? Babalu surely wasn’t going to buy the gown, especially the one I needed to have. I knew everyone would have the Cinderella-type gowns, the ones that required a hoop underneath. The one that would make me look like a princess.

Two days before the pageant, I asked my brother’s wife (at the time) to get me a dress. After explaining what I needed the dress for, she took me to “USA FleaMarket” . I guess she didn’t understand what I needed the dress for, WTH. Being the humble kid I was, I went along, without a word. But I was thinking, I’m surely going to lose this pageant. No one will vote for me because my dress made me look like I was going to church and not the ball. She bought a white laced dress that came to my knees. Yes, that was it, white and laced. How was I ever going to pull this out of the bag? How was I going to show this dress off? The day of the pageant, everyone pulled their dresses out for show, and I was beyond embarrassed. Everyone had these beautiful bouffant gowns and I had a lace table cloth. I left mine in the bag and went on about my business.

The winner was……….I hope she is reading this post. I was so envious of her. She was the cutest and everyone loved her. The thing that stood out most to me is that she always smelled like co-co butter. I know that has nothing to do with anything…..Just a random thought. Anyway, I may have lost the pageant but I walked away with a sense of confidence no one could ever take away.

You guys have a Terrific Tuesday!