Hey Homegirl. Lashell Rivers
“Aww, girl, how should I know?” So I began to lean on Kelly, just in an undercover type of way, like visiting dad without a training bra on because I was growing out of them and Mom was neglecting me.
She started focusing more on money because that asshole would spend his whole paycheck on freebase. And once again, Mom threatened the man to get his shit together, and he went clean again.
It was by this time that Bill had got locked up and Viv was pregnant. She needed somewhere to stay while waiting on him to get out, so Mom was about to give her Olivia’s room. I’ll be damned if Olivia didn’t come to Mom, crying about moving to Virginia because she and the girls were being put out and she was pregnant too. Shit!
Mom said, “I’ll think about it,” hurting her feelings. But what the fuck do you expect? That’s three grown women and her man. Let’s not forget about me, not to mention Liv’s pregnant nature could be hell, and it was.
Yeah, Mom came to me first, for it was a few months prior to all that that I ran away from home. Because of that crackhead dick that she chose over me. I did not want him there, and with him talking shit about my father when Mom wasn’t around to my face, I had enough; I packed up and rolled out. We had pay phones back then, and Dad wouldn’t come get me after begging him to. I told him what that man was saying about him and how he was treating me. But he didn’t care, and I wasn’t worth it. I just didn’t really fit into his new family. The police were out looking for me, and I came home to him, convincing her that I ran away over a boy and not him. “I believe you. I hear you.” I witnessed her saying to him with a nod while walking through the door. And I could say nothing but “I’m back” while going to my room to cry. Dad did call her that night. And she knew how my sister bullied me to a certain point, but not everything. I had no problem with Viv, who had already started moving in, but I knew Liv was coming too.
Junior High
I stayed out of the house more to avoid conflict and women, and I sought male attention elsewhere, particularly a white boy in seventh grade. All I can remember is doing stupid things for his attention, like blowing up rubbers and placing them in his locker. See, I was developing funny, wearing a D bra already, but my mother had me in a C cup. She was really bugging out over her husband and faith in God. She was hunting for him in the city when he didn’t come home for days, and with a gun mind you. I begged her to buy me some underwear that fit, and in the store, she was acting crazy, just all over the place. I had noticed a lot, for she had to deal with bills, Liv, Viv, me, and him altogether and couldn’t handle it I guess. Actually, I pulled out measuring tape at the store to figure out my panty size…wtf? She bought me size 18 underwear that piled up right under my breast, which were beginning to sag because of the wrong bra size. One day while playing with the girls in the neighborhood, there was a basketball by the court and I called myself doing a jump shot and paid no mind to the underwear. My shirt raised up to show all. Everyone saw my drapes and fell to the ground laughing. I honestly couldn’t figure out why they were on the ground until my mom pulled up for me to get in the car, then it hit me. Shame.
I was in a size 10 woman’s shoe, which wasn’t available in nice shoe wear for women, not in Payless anyway (shrug). My feet were still growing, and in a broke neighborhood, I was looking the part. The only time I didn’t look the part was when Kelly would take me shopping for school and help with outfits or when Tyrone would use me to get back in the house with Nike pump shoes and clothes. I got those shoes quite a few times actually. I could never ask my father for anything, for he would always say, “That’s what I pay child support for,” which was nothing but $92.00 a month that I never saw, for it went toward bills. My shoes cost more than that support money, especially when wearing men’s tennis shoes, and I already mentioned how my breast began to sag. I gave up hope on having nice ones. I was too young to have a job still, which would be the only way to get what I needed as a thirteen-year-old.
I was allowed to catch the metro train alone now, and I would go see cousin Tiff. That was a forty-five-minute ride from what is to this day Dunn Loring Metro Station, SE, Washington, DC, Anacostia Station. And Aunt Monique would come get me with her brother, or I’d catch the bus. All that to get away from home and try to look decent. She would do my hair now, and for free, as she was taking cosmetology classes in high school. I’d be her hair dummy. But after that, I’d go months without a perm and had a unibrow while feeling like shit. I was either the girl with big boobs, big feet, or the unibrow. Soon I became that black girl who liked the white boy, for there was the one I chased during the year but didn’t get to him until that summer. I walked quite a distance to his place during summer break, and I felt the sweaty pussy I had from the walk. I was surprised by the size of his dick, while feeling fear and embarrassment. This would be my first time, yet I always talked shit as though it wasn’t. I wasn’t sure how it was supposed to feel or if being with a white boy was even right. But it didn’t last long, and I made sure to use a condom. HIV was scary, and I spotted blood when he was done with me. He knew he popped my cherry. Then I left as though it was nothing; however, word got out during break. So when eighth grade began I would hear this one boy yelling “Hoe” over and over again from the school bus as I walked to the building. Hearing that while walking with other people but trying to ignore it really hurt. Having sex over summer break for the first time made me a hoe for two straight weeks.
Some memories we keep buried away, but the thoughts never leave. I did speak to that boy in the hall eventually, for he was both embarrassing and mentally hurting the hell out of me. “So having sex one time makes me a hoe!”
“No, Shell, you’re not a hoe. Everyone keeps talking about it though,” and with that look, holding tears back, I simply walked away. The group of girls I would walk to school with at first separated from the aka “hoe,” and I began to walk alone. After my approach, he stopped, but I felt it was a bit too late. I did have sex with my first once more, and that time, you could call me a hoe because we went to the top of a hotel with a couple of our friends just hanging; and we fucked right there in the stairway with both watching. They were crying and laughing. Thank God there were no cell phones yet. Oh well, hey.
There was this new girl in our school that a lot of girls were hating. Boys were so into her. Hell, I was into her. Cleo had a white mother and black father and was so beautiful with, of course, good hair. I was nervous at first. Seeing her so happy and receiving a lot of attention, other girls saw her as a threat. I was never one of those. My insecurities were for all to see.
Bill was out long enough to see his child born while on the run from the police. He had $72,000 hidden under our stairs, and no one knew. And things became hot, with some running their mouths, so the dudes he robbed with were transferring the money. The cash was en route to another spot. All I know is that there was a van being chased on route 66. It ran off the road and flipped on the side with money flying in the air and all on the highway. They were caught, though one ran across the highway like fuck it. They were taken in. This is the Commonwealth of Virginia, and they care more about money than your life.
They ended up moving to a townhome, and my sister joined them while still pregnant. She still showed me hatred, and I believe she took some of her pain out toward me. She found out that her child was going to have a father in jail for 20 years. I guess he hustled. I’m not sure, but I remember her tears on his sentencing day. She was being consoled by a neighborhood girlfriend. So raising that girl on her own was soon to come. “Fuck you, Shell.” I felt she had her own problems, and I refrained from leaning on her. With them finally leaving, I felt some freedom, along with mom taking a break from Ty. I later came to find out that he was in a program for his habit. My brother was so much fun, but he turned himself in with no one going to court and watching him get sentenced. That’s when I was twelve, and he’d been given 44 years. As I was coming in from school and being told that, my mind fell, thinking, Who will love me now?
I focused so hard on my artwork, for who could I talk to? A couple kids from the neighborhood said they were sorry about my bro, for he stayed with us before the townhouse. And Cleo began to speak to me, for she had family members in jail as well. We connected.
There was a time when I was little and still in DC that I’d run the playground, slapping girls on the butt. I saw it a lot, nor did I have