Little Dancer boy

You were born to a mother who kept a lot of secrets and to a father who was a failing stripper. You were born in Crawford Long Hospital to Dr. Crawford's wing personally since he favored your mother. You are half islander with one third native american roots within your blood line. On again, and off again, you were rejected by the man you tried to call your father whom your mother married. There I was, your uncle, who often was left with you and your sisters and cousins in my care. Why? Because your mother and aunt used to sneak off to go party in night clubs, strip clubs, and venues all while pretending to not be mothers.

You think your mother was a saint, and I'm here to tell you she never was. She used to emotionally abuse me on a constant basis. The physical abuse only came when I tried to stand up for myself, but of course you were too young to remember such details. That glorified childhood you remember oh so well came from your mother committing welfare fraud. Yes, that was her working as a hair stylist making almost $800 a week at O.V.'s hair salon while gladly accepting welfare, section 8 housing, food stamps, WIC, and any program she could put her hands on while "raising" you.

She was constantly moving from place to place, because of the drama she would always end up brewing wherever she went, but you never understood that portion. But let's get on with you shall we? Your father took the last bit of money that was hidden away for emergencies while your mother was pregnant with you and ran off to never be seen again. This was after a hefty two month relationship with your mother. He took off with over $5,000 your grandmother had hidden away for us while she was incarcerated and while your mother and the rest of us were about to be evicted in an apartment with no lights on.

Let's fast forward back to you, the actual you, little dancer boy. You used to try to emotionally cling to anyone close to you to always feel rejected. Your sisters would often bully you because you were sensitive. Of course they don't fully understand what you were going through, they had a father figure in each of their lives, and you my dear sir, did not. This was in a dark and dreary sense where we actually related. Both of us raised by damaged women. Both of us abandoned by our fathers. Both of us sensitive spirits in a world of ruthless people. I fully understand exactly the person you are.

You used to watch me dance, and got heavily inspired. You used to love and adore my video game Bust a Groove and played it until the disc scratched beyond repair. You would watch me draw pictures and would be obsessed with what I produced. You still have the sketch pad that I gave you despite you being angry with me. I know you have it, because you are a sentimental person. Because in that cold and bleak version of the world we both lived in, I gave you the one thing that made it worth it, hope. It tore your little heart to pieces when I left for the military. How could I leave this perfect world that we were in? Well little dancer boy, it wasn't perfect. You had your mother's favor, while I was the reminder of the woman that betrayed your mother when she needed her. Why would she let me stick around.

Oh yes, that part about us you never actually understood. Why did I never come around and why your mother and I truly never got along. Your mother hated that she was my guardian. Oh and she made it well known how much she hated me. I went out of my way to just "do what she wanted" and she was still a nightmare to live with. I was a burden to her in a world of burdens she never wanted to deal with. And why should she deal with me, I was supposed to be our mother's problem, not hers. But when your mother is incarcerated and the father cannot be located, well, there is not much choice in the matter.

Off I went to become the man I would become, and there you were in the lonely place again. You did horrible in school because teachers never made much effort to understand you and they had no reason to when your mother made no effort to communicate with them. Why? Because she did horrible in school as well. Your grandmother was angry when a teacher at your mother's school told her that she would end up a welfare mother because of how pampered your grandmother made your mother. Looks like that teacher was right. But let's get back to you, oh yes, out little dancer boy. So you would play video games and angrily bide your time with your family, until finally word came that I was heading home.

A smile came across your face because deep down inside, there was something you wanted to tell me but never actually could explain to me. You just knew you were close to me when you were younger and wanted that kinship back. Here I was, sleeping on your mother's couch and looking for a job. And you were happy and elated that I was there. But somehow I felt different to you. I was there, but I wasn't there. I somehow wasn't the same bright eyed teenager you had gotten to know. And then one day, I was just gone. You never understood why, you were just happy for the time we had and the video games I brought. Meanwhile, your mother threw me out of her little condo because I didn't want to go to her church. She did it real slick like too, calling your aunt to come pick me up and take me to Peachtree corners circle.

And you grew and grew, always feeling different. You never truly fit in with anyone in your family. You were growing up a gay son in a hopelessly religious household that never fully embraced that part of you. Don't know you yet? Please don't make me laugh. I know full well who and what you are to the very core. I know that was you, being a pampered and disobedient child while your mother continued to make bad decisions. I'll agree, she did a horrible job of raising you. But how could she raise a gay man? How could she understand that you were a young empath that could feel other's emotions and never understood why.

You grew up feeling abandoned, despite refusing to take responsibility. And along came this thing called Facebook. You connected with me again since you haven't seen me since my 30th birthday. You loved Bust a Groove so much, you practiced all of the dance moves. That was the world to you, dancing. It gives you a sense of peace that you could never get elsewhere. It liberated your soul to feel so balanced and in harmony with something higher than yourself. We would have frequent chats about a lot of things. Your coming out story, (which was very late since I knew about you since your birth), was very touching. But let's be honest here, you were afraid that you wouldn't get support. And I am glad that you were proven wrong.

I was the voice of consciousness in your life. From then to even now. Always telling you what is best for your growth and your progress. And then your sex, drugs, and rock and roll phase started. You got involved with a lot of the wrong type of people influencing your life. You went on an out of town spree with a boyfriend that wasn't your boyfriend. You were on the phone with me, as he was cheating on you while tears fell on your cheek. I have always been there, "little dancer boy", and I always will be. The real reason you are angry with me right now, is because you expect me to stop the world for you.

You expect people to make exceptions for you in every case. You want the whole world and you can work hard for it, but you expect far too much from people and at the most inopportune times. You lied to me that day you visited me in 2013. You wondered why I was so well put together during your mother's funeral. You and your grandmother stood there wondering the whole time I was just a jolly little camper even after hearing about my own sister's murder. Well, you see a part of me was saddened that she was murdered. But another part of me finally felt free from her. Free from the very person that abused me, used me, and made me feel worthless for so many years of my life. The very person who was a brilliant liar finally laid in a jar completely burned. Yes, that was a mean thing to say, but it was actually very true.

Her spirit came to visit me two times, and I never told you about it. The first time was for of course, a selfish request to help the police identify and arrest her killer. When she realized that I would do nothing, she couldn't even be angry with me. She went on to get help from your sisters, from your aunt, from your grandmother, but of course, they don't get a full grasp on what we actually are. Yes, that family secret you've been on the verge of wanting to know, but never asked the right person? I know all about it. The second time your mother's spirit visited me was her last. She came to me to apologize about everything. Why? Because God himself let her know in that time of "afterlife" that I was the one that was wronged the most by her, not you. She came, her pride was stripped, and she finally after so long, apologized after so much pain, for so long, and then she left.

I know about you, I've known completely about you to the core. You are angry at me, because I've "never helped you financially". I mean why would I when almost every time, you've lied to me. Your own family members warned me to never give you money. Every. Last. One. Your aunt gave me a horrifying two hour conversation about you and what you have chosen to become. Living with her for free, and talking bad about her living conditions on the phone with your "friends". Oh those same "friends" that abandoned you when you needed a place to stay? You lied to me about needing that rent money. Yes, I had $400 in my pocket that night you came to see me. Hell, I could have even paid your entire rent off, had you not lied to me. I would have done it too had everyone else not warned me not to.

Despite your bad decisions, you clearly only think about yourself. But why would you think about other people? According to you, we're never "there". Despite the fact that we help you everytime and get absolutely nothing in return everytime. Yes, I am your family, yes I am your uncle, and NEVER have you given me any reverence. Why would I help you, when you are strung out on molly and bad decisions? You are angry because I wouldn't give you a dollar when you were calling me at 11:29 at night? Oh, that wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that I just finished working a 12 hour shift on my feet all day and was covered in sweat? But of course, you don't care about that, you only think about yourself.

Despite even this, I already know your future. You do become successful, but it takes a very huge heart ache for you to finally "get it". The best man in your entire life is going to come into your life, and you are going to treat him life utter trash. He will attempt to heal that blackened heart of yours and will fail. And then he will leave you. And it is there, within all of those tears and cursing, you'll finally "get it". You'll see what a little monster you've been. Drink some grow the fuck up and finally be the owner of that dance studio you have always wanted. You will make headlines and you will meet great people, and it will mean nothing to you.

Because despite everything you go through, you will always be that little dancer boy.


Q