THEY asked ME.
- dinner for the family
- more dishes
- sweeping or mopping
- trash etc.
Like what 9/10 year old can’t pop frozen entrees in the oven in the 80s. We were latch-key kids.
They called my parents. And I guess scolded them?
And it became a running family joke that I went crying to my school about chores.
I just answered a question truthfully.
Nor that the fact I was in counseling in the first place was indicative of a problem.
This was the first Black neighborhood we'd lived in.
And they were trying to figure out why I didn't have friends, didn't seem to care, never smiled and seemed bored by school.
But things hurt me just the same.
And as kind of a weird kid I thought "if I go back to being perfect it'll be harder on my sisters."
Never had an inhaler for my asthma.
(By now the milder abuse from non-immediate-family-members had occurred.)
- how my family on Twitter will feel reading this,
- how other "real" Nigerians will judge me
- or if my Black American friends will think I'm doing "you think YOU had it bad."
As opposed to pausing between complete physical exhaustion and working towards mental exhaustion?