The smell of fried chicken drifted throughout the apartment as commercial ads broke up the hip-hop station’s music during the five-o clock rush hour playlist was done. I made sure the kitchen was clean and fixed dinner plates for my sisters before Mama got home. You could never tell what kind of mood she would be in once she returned. Things could take a sudden downturn if I forgot to do something or said the wrong thing. I stared at the clock attached to the stove and sighed.
It wasn’t that I hated how Mama raised me— I just hated how it made me feel different. My friends at school had nice relationships with their moms. While they got to go out and have fun, I was busy looking after my sisters and taking care of the house. Mama works hard and wants me to be responsible and wants me to focus on my schoolwork. I always tried to be the daughter she wanted me to be, quiet and obeying. Sometimes, I just want to have fun and do what my friends get to do. I didn’t understand why I always had to be home just because I was the eldest of my sisters by three years.
Columbus is a small town, but the big projects neighborhood I lived in was not the safest place to be in. Because of the neighborhood’s bad reputation, some of my friends weren’t allowed to come visit me, so seeing them in school was the only time we got to hang out. I really felt like I was living two totally different lives.
“Jasmin, bring me my plate.”
By the sound of that, Mama was not in a good mood, and I had better get her plate fast. Maybe after she ate and got some rest, she’d be in a better mood. Finally in my room after a long day’s work, Helping my sisters with homework, making sure they bathe and lay out school clothes for the next day. Cooking dinner and keeping the house spotless clean. I decided to get some sleep, too.
The next morning, I was rushing to get ready for school. Mama was in the doorway of her bedroom, stressing me out about being home on time because she had to work late. I lived in a different school zone, so I had to catch two city buses just to make it to school. I always had some kind of responsibility for everything else, and it seemed like there was no room for me. I want to spend time making friends, go hangout at the mall. Looking into the mirror before I left, I could see myself, but I wonder if Mama ever saw me as a person.
In English, Mrs. Daniels handed back our writing assignments before announcing the two students selected to be entered into a city-wide writing contest. When I heard my name, I couldn’t believe it. I had dreams of being a famous writer, but those were just dreams; not real life for me.
“Dang girl, you trying to be Maya Angelou or somthin’?” Tiana said. She was my best friend, but she always had some kind of joke when it came to me and my life. We became best friends from knowing each other in middle school. She doesn’t understand why I can’t hang out like her. She was being raised by her grandmom, and her life wasn’t that strict.
Her jokes were small jabs of jealousy because I got most of my attention from academics and she was the party girl.
After school, I walked with Tiana to the corner store. I had about a thirty-minute window of free time before I would have to catch the bus back home.
“There’s gonna be a party this weekend, you wanna come with me?” Tiana asked
She knew my answer would most likely be no. Tiana had mentioned to just sneak out because my mom would always say no. She was so strict. I couldn’t go anywhere at night because I had to stay home and watch my sisters.
“I might be able to come.” I lied, so tired of always saying no.
“Well, my cousin Rod will be there…” Tianna hinted as she nudged my shoulder.
She knew I had a crush on her cousin, and that would be the perfect time to talk to him since he goes to a different school than us. I knew then I would have to beg my mom to go. When I got home, I gathered up the nerve to ask Mama if I could go to the party. She instantly said no before I could even get the full question out. She didn’t trust any of my friends or even care to know them.
“It’s out of the question, Jasmin. Not only do I have to work, but you don’t need to be out in these streets at night.” She shouted. It always ended up like that. I would calmly ask, and she would abruptly deny. This time, I would finally snap and yell back.
“You don’t trust me to breathe without your permission!”
“You have permission to keep your hot, Black tail in this house!”
Laying in my bed, I stared at the ceiling. Another weekend stuck in the house, Mama at work, and my sisters sleeping in their room. I started to imagine myself having fun with my friends and being seen at the party. Then a message from Tiana pops up on my phone.
“Do you need a ride to the party?”
In my head I heard Mama saying “no,” but in my own mind I screamed yes. “Yes,” I texted back before springing up out of bed to get ready for the party. The last party I went to was a birthday party, and it was in the eighth grade. I deserved one night of freedom. I wouldn’t stay out too long, and Mama would never know I even left.
I could feel the cool spring air on my skin, and I smiled, watching the city full of lights while riding shotgun in Tiana’s car. As we pulled up to the house party, I could hear music blazing and people laughing. This is what being a teenager was all about. Inside the house people were drinking, smoking and dancing. I felt so out of place; I didn’t do any of those things. I found a corner to stand in and just pretended to fit in.
“What you doin over here all alone, Jasmin?”
Hearing my name, I turned my head and it was Rod, my crush. I was so excited to see him. We talked and laughed for what seemed like hours, but it was starting to get late, so we exchanged numbers. I looked around for Tiana so we could go home, but I couldn’t find her. Suddenly, the already loud party seemed to get louder. A fight broke out. I ran through the house, screaming Tiana’s name, and finally found her. The fight that broke out was between Tiana and her boyfriend. Someone had pulled him away after he yelled in her face.
“We gotta go,” Tiana said.
The car ride back to my house was quiet. She didn’t want to talk about her fight, so I didn’t push the issue. Besides the fight happening, I was happy I went to the party. It felt good to be out of the house.
“I will talk to you later, Tiana. Thanks for the ride.”
I hugged her before walking to my front door. All the lights were on in the house, but I turned them all off when I left. My heart dropped, it was dark outside, I didn’t see my mother’s car parked anywhere.
“You think you’re grown because you’re sixteen?”
Well, that explains why all the lights are on, I thought. Mama’s home. She almost never gets off this early.
“No, ma’am. I just went for a walk.”
“You think I didn’t see you get out of that car? You acting grown but ain’t ready for grown consequences!”
“I wasn’t acting grown, Mama! Maybe if you weren’t always working, you would know me!”
Why did I say that? Mama slapped me and the room instantly became silent. I held my face, burning from the slap, as tears started to well in my eyes from the shock; I ran to my room and slammed the door behind me.
Days passed since the incident, and Mama was still giving me the cold shoulder. At school, I stayed to myself, not wanting to talk to my friends. It’s not like they could understand what I was going through, anyway. In English class, Mrs. Daniels gave us a new assignment: “Write about the hardest truth you have had to face.” Writing had become a way for me to express how I felt. When I looked at my words on paper I felt comfort. Sometimes I would upload a poem or essay online. It felt good to read comments of those who understood my point of view.
I started to write, and my emotions escaped as I wrote through my tears. I didn’t care who saw. I didn’t feel like my Mama loved me or even liked me. I didn’t feel like I was seen.
Mama lost trust in me after I snuck out to the party, so the next weekend, my sisters and I had to go to my Grandma’s house. I guess Mama told her what I did, because a little while after we got to her house, Grandma called me into her room.
“Close the door,” she said, patting on her bed next to her.
I instantly began crying when my head hit her lap. Grandma listened to me when I told her about how school and friends were, and most importantly, how I was. Unlike Mama, it was okay to cry with her and even get hugs. I told her how I felt unseen and unappreciated.
“Your Mama’s love is loud because she had to survive loud,” she said.
Mama had a tough upbringing. Grandma said the way she showed love is different than most, but that it didn’t mean Mama didn’t love me. I had never thought about my Mama in that way. Love and control can come from the same place. That was a hard truth, but truth is, I still wished my Mama could be more loving.
“Our writing showcase winner is Jasmin Adams!” said the school’s loudspeaker Monday morning. I was nervous about reading my piece since I won, and I wondered if Mama would remember that she and I would have to attend. I found out later that Mrs. Daniels, having read my essay, decided to send a link to the school’s online showcase to Mama without me knowing.
While I read my essay “The Space Between Us” to the crowd of onlookers as the winner of the writing competition. The essay was written after the slap incident; Mrs. Daniels had given my class a prompt. I noticed my Mama sitting in the crowd. I was almost finished reading the essay but felt nervous about saying the ending out loud. I hoped my mom didn’t take it the wrong way.
“I want to be free without leaving my mother behind.” Tears streaming down my face, I glance at my Mama and see tears also running down her face.
The next morning, I woke up to mouthwatering smells coming from the kitchen. I walked down the stairs in shock; I couldn’t remember the last time my Mama cooked breakfast.
“Come fix you a plate.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
There was no apology, just warmth and a quiet truce. I sat down at the table.
“You got any more of them essays?”
I smiled. “Maybe. You want to read one?
Mama gives a small smile back. Wow, that felt good. For once, I felt like I was seen by Mama. Back upstairs in the bathroom, I take one last look in the mirror before school. This time, though, I see Mama standing behind me, softer.
Lashanda Baker is from Columbus, Georgia. She graduated high school in 2003 and then served time in the US Army. After the Army she received her nail tech and esthetician license. She is now an English Education Major at KSU. She has two teenagers and one cat and lives in North, GA.