Intro & Chapter 1:The Beginning

For it was written for colored girls,

But what about us colored boys?

Is ours not worth telling,        

Let alone just as compelling?

Who is there to lend a hand,

Or speak up and take a stand?

For the abuse,

The misuse,

Of our bodies, minds and souls,

Sexed, vexed, and perplexed,

Our heart has taken the arrow.

Enuf of the rainbow.

Its time for us to confide.

Our story we must not hide.

We too have considered suicide.

INTRO:

Over the years I have learned that confidence is not something you are born with, it is an attribute that is developed over time. I hope that one day I will have the confidence to tackle my fears head on and follow my dreams. Living in a self-designed shell only limits one’s abilities to conquer the world and reach for the stars. It is like a debilitating disease that slowly eats away at the flesh inside and out until you are finally lifeless. It is something that can truly kill. So, I have decided that a step toward tackling my fears is to use the experiences that have left me with wounds and document them on paper. Maybe, there is someone out there who can relate to the sometimes inhumane and traumatic lessons that have been imposed on me. Maybe, I could help the ones closest to me better understand me, and maybe I could finally better understand myself. I might even learn to love myself.

While lying in a hospital bed, my dad encouraged me to record my personal thoughts in the form of a book. I had know clue how I would do it or when I would gather the energy to formulate my thoughts in an organized cohesive story. By then, I knew I had a story to tell and that someone out there could relate to what I had been through. Finally, I felt compelled to do something to share my lessons with others.

I have many heroes, one of them being Pam Grier.

“I see it all in the form of seasons: A season to plant and a season to grow, a season for personal preparation and a season to reap the benefits of life and give back to others. Whichever season I’m in, however, I look to my heroes to inspire me.” –Pam Grier.

I’ve always loved women and looked up to them for guidance and inspiration. I love the story of women. The confidence, perseverance, and strength they exude after going through life’s tumultuous ride. I’ve read many biographies through my own journey, many of them stories of women who have defied the odds placed against them. I only hope my life story will be as intriguing and defying as the heroes I look up to. Life hasn’t always been a walk in the park, but I have been blessed in many ways. However, it is the bumps and bruises that have made me stronger. I wouldn’t change a detail to the life God has given me. Well…maybe there are a few things I would change. Nevertheless, the trials and tribulations would remain the same. Once my mother told me that if life were perfect it would be boring. There are many times I would have willing accepted perfection, but perfection doesn’t make a good story. This is my story, a story of love and hate, joy and pain, failure and triumph. This is my life…

CHAPTER 1: NEW BEGINNING

The first semester of junior year ended on a sour note. I had been feeling down consistently during the latter months. My grades had been getting progressively worse, especially in Chemistry and Spanish. I found myself barely passing by the end of the semester, and was hoping that this semester would bring better luck. I could only hope that I learned from my mistakes this semester and did better academically then the previous. For me, grades were held to a high standard. Making great marks was expected of me in school and I placed high value on self-achievement. In fact, academic performance was the measure of my self-worth. With my grades suffering, my self-esteem seemed to grow worse. I was less motivated to do things that I normally enjoyed and loved. My confidence not only was suffering in academics, but in my social life. Maybe, this semester I would have the chance to start over, showing a different side of me that I usually kept locked away and hidden in a box. A much-needed change was well over due.  It was a new day, a new semester, and a new beginning. Vandon Bernard Smith was going to create the success he was born to do.

Jesus Christian School did not always exemplify the attributes that the name portrayed. I had been there for years, yet I felt like the school as a whole contradicted itself in many ways. I felt like certain students were treated better than others. Whether it was socioeconomics, gender, or race, I couldn’t quite tell. It seemed like all of those things played a huge part in who was going to be Queen or King at the Homecoming Game, student of the Month at the end of the academic term, or any other event that gave high recognition. I for sure wasn’t planning on being anything of school importance. Other than student of the month, which I was never awarded, there wasn’t much to look forward to in this category. However, it became adamant that I complied with school rules so that I could be on the “No Detention Honor Roll” for the sixth semester in a row. For me that was a huge achievement, being that administrators and teachers gave out detentions like they had to meet a quota at the end of the day. Also, because I hadn’t been on academic honor roll for quite sometime, this gave me a boost of encouragement. However, in other areas I just fell in the middle. I was basically the average student. I didn’t cut up in class, so teachers didn’t dread me and I wasn’t the stellar student that received all the praise and special recognition. I was just quiet old do as you’re told Vandon. For the longest time, it didn’t seem like a bad thing. I had few friends, but at least I had friends. Some of them could even be considered real friends. Of course, we didn’t see each other after school or anything, but we had great conversation. And it was a mutual consensus, that since we weren’t “popular” we were “losers”. Like in most schools, there were social groups and the popularity of those social groups were magnified by the sports you played. At Jesus, basketball and Football were the highest regarded sports. Of course, basketball was its specialty since the school held state championships in men’s basketball for ten straight seasons. Not only was it one of the schools to look out for among schools in the city of Houston, but in the whole state. It was obvious that the head of the school took this feat as an accomplishment. There was not only recognition, but also huge amounts of money in endorsements and donations.

Like clock work, the sun crept through the shades of my blinds with the aroma of bacon and coffee. As if it had been drilled in my brain over and over, I started the first day of the semester with the hope of success. A breakfast prepared by daddy and a much more relaxed drive to school would surely ease my tensions. Driving was another obstacle that did nothing to thrill the need for self-sufficiency. It had been a suggestion that was ultimately forced to make life easier and more efficient for working parents.

“This is the last time I’m driving you this morning. You have a car and you will be taking your brother to school each morning,” said Daddy.

Terrified to say the least. How was I going to drive on those dangerous, but familiar streets that I had seen time and time again. Surely, the way was engraved in my head. Street names and landmarks could be recited and drawn to make a picture. However, fear still hung over like a dark cloud threatening to rain on my morning parade. My brother, Xander, of course was no help in my experiences.

“Why don’t you turn the radio up? Stop breaking so hard. You’re weird. All my friends can’t wait to drive.”

He had become a nuisance from the passenger seat. Like driving Miss Daisy, I had become his chauffeur. Pestered and harassed, there was always a reminder about my strange tendencies. To Xander, if you didn’t like to drive him everywhere while listening to his favorite radio station, than you must be inadequate. How dare he? I had put up with enough of his pretentious bullying, and it was time to take matters into my own hands. Of course, it was me who was the captain of this ship, or rather, vehicle.

You see, Xander was about 2 years younger than me. However, since he was much taller, six-foot-one, having had two growth spurts to my one within the last six months, people always thought that he was the oldest. He was also very handsome with fine features and an athletic build to match. Golden-brown skin with a set of straight pearly whites always got him compliments from many of his female admirers. And believe me, he had many. Within the last year or so, he had acquired the skills of a Casanova. He had girls wrapped around his finger. They loved to run their fingers through his soft curly-black hair” while fantasizing of a future eternal bliss. Of course, all of their kids would have his “hypnotizing” hazel green eyes and “good hair.” However, in reality, all these air-headed girls did was stroke his already enormous ego just to have the chance to be in his presence. Some would even have his lunch from the cafeteria already ready for him. No long lines for him. While I had to wait 15 minutes just to even get a slice of cold pizza during “Thursday Pizza Day”, he had finished two of his fresh hot pizzas and one of any young lady’s who had their minds locked on getting his attention. Mr. Casanova’s abilities to run at lightning speed and dribble a ball did nothing to lower his ego. As a freshman, he had already been selected to the varsity basketball team after just finishing a successful season of football. He seemed to be my dad’s pride and joy. On the other hand, I was dark-skinned with gigantic eyes, huge-lips, and bulky braces. To top it off, I had a super skinny lanky body and pimples the size of planets. Of course, those adolescent bumps left huge blemishes that did nothing for my appearance. No one would be raking their fingers through these nappy locks let alone raking it with a fine toothcomb, so I always made sure my hair was cut very short. You can say that picture day did not produce anything that I wanted to hang on the wall. All of my pictures from seventh grade up were usually hidden in a drawer. Extra-terrestrial is what I looked like. Although I was in the Mighty Marching Band playing the flute, track was the only thing that the guys gave me clout for. The flute was for “fruits”, but if you could run that made you a man. In fact, anything sport related made you a man. And Xander, was great at pretty much every sport you could name. Either this was some sick kind of joke or I had pissed God off really bad in my past life. Nevertheless, Xander was not going to sour the beginning of my day with his belittling comments. “You need to go faster. Turn up the radio, I want to listen to music,” shouted Xander. “ Xander shut-up. I’m not going to take any of your crap,” snapped I. Of course, this quarrel was one of many that had gone on in the mornings since November of last year. My dad happened to leave a bunch of pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters in his center console after he relinquished the unappreciated 1997 Tahoe. These had become great weapons targeted toward the rear passenger seat. The more screams of ouch the more encouraged I became to finally put an end to that cackling mouth. That would teach him, at least for a little while. Of course, you could count on numerous more arguments and fights in the car between us.

However, today was a new day. Dreams of success were on the horizon and soon would be at arms reach. Entering the school, things seemed back to normal. I took a deep breath and exhaled. Classes would be the same as last semester, so there was no need to fret about a new teacher’s system. Walking through the hallways, there were the same old faces. Nothing new and out of the ordinary seemed to grab my attention. Now, one thing that was great about Jesus Christian was the diversity in the student body. You could count on seeing a plethora of students from many origins, backgrounds, and races. There were Asians, Blacks, Whites, Arabs, and Latinos. We were all one big gumbo of cultural diversity. This was great because we all brought different aspects to education. Students had a chance to share their experiences with each other. I even learned to speak a few words of Chinese and Spanish just from talking with students. Learning from different cultures would serve me well in my future endeavors. This was an attribute of the school that was greatly appreciated. If only the school faculty could be more diverse. Most of the administrators and teachers were white. I would estimate about 90%. It was rare to see a Black or Hispanic teacher within the faculty body. The school was also highly conservative, which was fine until it intruded upon other’s cultures. Sometimes a teacher’s conservative mind was just another form of a closed-mind in regards to religion and politics. I personally feel that current political opinions should be left outside of a school environment. It creates tension based on policies that many of us didn’t understand and only understood a little from outside discussions. Sometimes racial tensions would be created based on a discussion a teacher or administrator initiated. I, however, hated confrontation and tended to stay out of heated classroom or lunchroom debates. Even if it were a student attack, I would try to dissolve the situation. It made me feel jittery and nervous. As school was heading towards lunch, I was looking forward to the period right before called study hall. This is where I could relax and do some homework right before I got to finally meet up with my friends Tony, Laila, Chris, and Jermaine. I was looking forward to hearing about their Christmas break. I couldn’t wait to talk about celebrity news, school gossip, and fashion for 30 minutes. It was one of the few times we had to talk before school let out. By then, I was tired and had to get ready for either band or track practice. As I entered the library for study hall, I would see a few people that would do nothing for my self-esteem. They had been terrors to others who fell prey to their ridicule and jokes, and I for sure did not want to be placed in that position. I knew from the moment that I stepped in the room that things would not be good. The most vicious one had just given me a smile. Damien was going to have fun with me, and this was just the beginning.


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