Born to Be A Prostitute Chapter 2

There has been some controversy concerning whether or not I knew at age 7 what I wanted to be when I grew up.Ask any 7 year old what they want to be when they grow up and I guarantee they have an answer for you.Between my parents addiction and drug dealing, I seen many types of people around, which created a questionable early-learning environment for me. Then there is the fact that my father was in prison for a few years and watching my mother do things to survive that i also picked up on. Thankfully, when my dad got out of prison we moved back to Detroit, Michigan. From birth until 3rd grade, age 7 or 8, I seen a lot of criminal activity, from drug dealers to prostitutes, and from that I decided I wanted to be a prostitute when I grew up.

My parents addiction to prescription pain killers started in the 60’s, way before prescription addictions were talked about, and as common like the cold these days. My mother was a United States Postal Worker, delivering mail, in her sexy uniform and mail truck. That is until mom wrecked the truck and was prescribed her first pain pill, I was about 3 or 4, I guess. My father welded huge US Naval Ships in the Naval Shipyard. My dad worked at the shipyard until one day when he and I were home alone, he all of a sudden stood up, turned in a complete circle, and walked out the front door. He then fell out on the lawn and had what was a Gran Mal Seizure, epilepsy. So, now they were both out of work, trying to make ends meet. They found a way selling the pain pills and scamming the doctors for scripts. The selling of pills brought all the low lifes in Long Beach to our home. I seen so many different kinds of junkies in my early years, from beginners to hard core shooting up addicts, pill parties, girls doing things for pills and money, I was a child but I was not blind. This all stopped when we got raided and dad went to jail for a few years. This is when I learned from my mom how to hustle and survive.


My dad goes away for like 3 years, we went to visit him many times. My mom moved us into a small one bedroom house that was behind a larger house, where the landlord lived and whom I was not to tell my dad was in prison, and it sat on the alley. I loved it there for the most part. Several things went down during the years that my dad was away. My mom had several men in and out, so much that I ripped up all her money one time. I came home from school one day and my mommy wouldn't wake up, I tried n I tried, but she wouldn’t wake up. I remember running to the next door neighbor ladies house and crying about how my mommy would not wake up. She and I ran back to the house and the lady shook her but still no response. The neighbor lady got an ambulance there and they took my mother away and she lived and came home the next day, I stayed with nice neighbor lady the night my mother was kept in the hospital. During these years, I was also hit by a car in my big wheel, because I was riding it in the street while my mom was busy. It only scraped my back lightly, but I was scared and so was my mother. I also climbed up the counter and into into her pill stash in the cabinet and took a handful. I was found hours later passed out in the alley. I was ok. My uncle Danna Ray (my dad’s brother) came out, I think to watch my mother, he stayed with us. He also taught me how to read during that time, he later taught me how to drive, may he RIP. When my dad finally got out of prison, I remember only a few things happening. Like when my brother and I had chicken pox and my mom had took us to the doctor (l can still see this is my mind’s eye) when we came back, my father had destroyed the whole house and began to beat my mom. I remember it was over her actions while he was locked up and for some reason chose then to express it. We moved from that little house on the alley, into some duplex apartments, where we lived a short time, before heading north to Michigan, where my parent’s families lived.

My parents drove us to Detroit, Michigan, where we stayed with my father’s mother, Granny. It was a beautiful upper duplex, 3 bedrooms, dining room, with a solid wood table and matching buffet. My youngest two aunts still lived at home, Janice and Judy. I am not sure how long we stayed with Granny, but I remember it was awesome. We finally got a house near 11 mile road and Gratiot in Roseville, Michigan, a house on the alley, and I had a dark purple bedroom. Late one night a man from the car repair shop on the other side of the alley, stumbled up to our house and he was covered in blood. My dad helped him and called an ambulance. We moved not long after that onto Lowell street, a few streets over and still in Roseville, also off of Gratiot but near Martin (11 1/mile road). This is where life really gets interesting and I picked up a lot more from my environment, both good and bad. I was in the middle of third grade and we lived there until I the Christmas break of 8th grade. I will share those years in the next chapter or so.

From the time I was born I was exposed to an illicit lifestyle in a taboo world. It didn't stop there, it continued through my teen years in a different way. My parents didn't know better, they were young, and got caught up in the game, not knowing the affects their choices would have on me. My dad going to prison further imprinted upon me the lifestyle, it was all I learned as a child. Moving to Detroit gave me a chance to know the love and loyalty of family and good friends. Did I have a chance at changing my path in life at this point??? I was 7 or 8, in the middle of 3rd grade when we moved to Roseville from my Granny’s house in Detroit, not much changed in our lives, but it was more stable than life was in Long Beach, California. During the next few years, I honed the skills that I had been taught early on and still wanted to be a prostitute when I grew up. I knew from a young age that I wanted to be a prostitute when I grew up, and no one can tell me differently.