FINDING MY RELATIVES

I'm 18. Right now I live in a group home with my twin, Aquellah. Both of my parents are part Cherokee and part African-American. I want to go to Florida and visit my dad's side of the family. I've never met them. I'm short, and they're tall. I heard they look more Indian. I'm in-between. I think of courage and bravery when I think of Indians, like they are not afraid of anything, not afraid to hang with other people. I saw this movie once and the Indians were open and comfortable being together. Less alienated. Maybe that side of me is coming out more now. I'm more free to be myself, having courage and bravery.

THE FIRE

I was maybe 8 when there was a fire in our apartment. I have two younger brothers, my twin sister, and two other sisters, and we lost nearly everything. We had to go to a shelter. My dad was working in a hospital as a security guard. My mom was working, but she got depressed. My mom had been depressed before. Dad said he was going to leave her, and she tried to kill herself. Dad left. He was away two years. Mom was fine while he was away, but when he came back, they started using drugs together. She stopped being a mother. Before that she was the best mom.

Taheerah on a rock by the Hudson River in New York City. “There’s a park I go to,” explains Taheerah. “Nobody can find me. I sit and it’s so beautiful.”

FINDING OUT

I was 10. At first I didn't know my parents were using drugs. They would want us out of the room. I saw them snorting cocaine a couple of times. I asked my older sister —she's 23 now — if they were doing drugs, and she said, “Yeah, they are." It didn't take long for us all know when they'd do drugs together. My dad would go outside and buy cocaine. My mom would wait upstairs. It was mostly at night and evenings, maybe two or three times a week. I thought they were crazy. It made me feel like I couldn't rely on them. They used coke like an anti-stress pill. It's crazy that it would take a drug for them to be calm. Sometimes, like if I had a bad report card, a bad grade, I could put it in front of them and they would sign it -- they'd be happy and relaxed. Other times when we did normal kid things -- clothes on floor, food left out of the refrigerator, dishes not washed -- they got really angry. My mom would hit us. My dad would yell at us,

The view of the New Jersey skyline from New York City. “Therapy helped me deal with losing my parents, and for a while I took an anti-depressant. Now I write poems and draw. I go to sleep and wake up in the middle of the night with something on my mind, and I write it down.”

and leave. I felt bad, but I didn't mind her hitting me. It was better than her using drugs.

MAKING THINGS LAST

They used the rent money, the electric money, every type of money. We were so far behind on bills and rent. The second week into the month we ran out of money and just did without. Everything was stretched. My mom had to ask for money. It was embarrassing. People who used to know her before no longer spoke to her. At school I tried to act like I had money, and clothes, but I'd be wearing the same thing over and over. My brothers weren't washed; their hygiene was bad. Once, my oldest sister confronted my parents. We all were there. Dad said for us to mind our own business. My mom said she wasn't going to stop using. She left the room. I hated them. I hated the drugs. I thought, what's so good about drugs that you would choose them over us?

MY WORST MOMENT

My dad starting sexually abusing my sister and me. We were 10 years old.

Sky and clouds (photo taken by Taheerah)

My mom was high in the living room. I'd act like I wasn't there. I separated myself from my body and sent myself to another place, like in school, at my friend's house, or with my mom. In my mind, I was telling her, but in reality she wouldn't do anything. I felt so invisible, like a plain glass window.

MY TURNING POINT

I got tired of it. Every day I came back, my mom was high, my dad was high. Like they were robots. I refused to grow up and end up like them and have my kids go through the same thing. I thought, if I can change my life, I'll do it now, not later.

SPEAKING UP

I was 14 years old. I remember it was snowing outside. I was sitting in one of my classrooms. I was really scared. I decided to tell a teacher that I trusted. “My mom and dad are on drugs," I said, almost like it was a joke. Then I started crying. “I'm tired of it. Tired of trying to do things." I told her, I had to clean the apartment, and it was never tidy

“I wish that I could have sat down with my parents and said, “This is how I feel….” If you can’t talk to your family, find the next best thing.  Tell someone else, an authority figure, and take it from there. I’m so glad I told.”

enough for my mother's liking. I couldn't deal with another day living like that. My teacher was shocked and wanted to tell the school counselor, who was also my godmother. My godmother was angry and upset (not with me). She wanted to do so much. We started talking. A social worker came to our house. My siblings and I were removed a couple of days later. My mother said nothing. My father had gone downstairs. He stood there outside as we were being taken away. We acted like we didn't know him.

SPLITTING UP

The six of us stayed with our aunt. That lasted two or three months. Then we got moved to foster homes. I was with my twin, and my other sister was placed with my brothers. My older sister was of age. We didn't want to split up, but we had to. My mom stayed in the house. She had to join a substance abuse program but it didn't work for her. She started using again. Later she told me, “I found out it was you who told." She said she was ashamed that we were her daughters. I haven't seen her since turning 16. She showed up unexpectedly. She still held a grudge, and she was upset. I told her I wanted to stay at the group house. I don't visit my parents today. They're probably still using.

WHAT HELPED ME GET THROUGH IT

My godmother sticking up for me. If I needed someone to talk to, my godmother was there. She believed us. She helped me get into a good high school, and I'm getting a good education. I don't know where I'd be without her.

ONE ACTION THAT WORKED FOR ME

I was scared of facing reality. I made pretend everything wasn't really happening. I was afraid, and I was starting to back myself into a corner. But I realized it. It really helped me to speak about it, to write about it. To let it be known, and not keep it inside. I started writing last summer. It was me and five other kids -- we got selected to write for a magazine published by Youth Communication. I saw an advertisement on the back of a magazine and called. I had to write two essays. One was on overcoming fears. An editor called and told me she liked what I wrote. When I write, it feels like I can let everything out on paper. I don't have to feel bad. When I finish, I feel like I've accomplished something.

ON BEING MYSELF

Now I'm just simply Taheerah. Before I was one more innocent person with problems. I'm helping others by trying to release my problems. Some people are ashamed to be in a group home. As I become more outgoing, my friends don't see me as part of a group, more like an individual. Now I tell them, “I'm in a group home. I'm the same as you guys. I am human." My friends stand by me.

DEALING WITH IT

Therapy helped me deal with losing my parents, and for a while I took an anti-depressant. Now I write poems and draw. I go to sleep and wake up in the middle of the night with something on my mind, and I write it down. Then I look at it in the morning and I like it. I show my friends and they ask, “When did you do that?" And I say, “At two o'clock in the morning!" There's a park I go to. Nobody can find me. I sit and it's so beautiful. You can look down on the rocks and water and see New Jersey. Nobody knows you. I think about lots of things. I can have conversations in my head with people like my grandmother, and feel emotions. I can cry there. I like it over there. I'll stay there for a couple of hours. When it's time for me to leave, I leave all my problems there.

MOVING FORWARD

I want to write a book. When I started to write, I realized it. I've been writing constantly. But I also want to be a veterinarian.

TO EVERYONE READING THIS

If you are using drugs, it's not good. You're hurting somebody who means so much to you. You have to try to find somebody that you know to help get better. If you're a parent using, think, how will my kids see me when I get older? If you're a child using, think about your parents, what they're going though, the suffering. I wish that I could have sat down with my parents and said, “This is how I feel…." If you can't talk to your family, find the next best thing. Tell someone else, an authority figure, and take it from there. I'm so glad I told.