SAVING “THE KID”: ODE TO THE ELDEST DAUGHTER, MIDDLE CHILD, & FIRST-GEN BLUES

***“THE KID/POUPE”*** |
November 2023

my family used to call me “poupe” (meaning doll in haitian creole) growing up. “the kid” was cute and that gathered attention from a lot of bullies, unfortunately. everywhere “the kid” went, she was incessantly bullied and targeted. it didn’t help she had a birthmark under her eye and was super hyperactive. it was even harder in her haitian-catholic community. she just couldn’t understand why. it was difficult for her as she fought for her innocence & developing sense of self.

even at the face of all this pain, “the kid” had a funny sense of humor! she’d still tickle her enemies, and that is a testament to “the kid’s” inner glory.
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“Don't fear the light
That dwells deep within
You are powerful
Beyond what you imagine
Just let your light glow”

This is for “the kid” inside.

Once upon a time, I was a black child. A black child filled with hopes, dreams, sunshine, rainbows, and an overwhelming sense of love for my being. I loved to play, dance, and laugh. I didn’t know where it all came from but everyday I would smile in-front of the bathroom mirror until my cheeks hurt. Mom would sometimes check in on me and smile at my own joy for existing. I loved being in my little human body and looked forward to growing into a full adult like my mommy & daddy. They were so cool to me. Every day after school, I would tell them about my day at school and what I had learned.

Oh, how blissful the beginning years of my youth were in Bridgeport, Connecticut.

When my younger sister was born when I was 6, my world began to shift. I watched as the attention I received began to dwindle as it shifted towards my younger sister. Gradually, I watched my parents set their loving gaze onto my sister and I began to feel left. I witnessed them gradually pull back their energy to fit the growing needs of my younger sister. My fits of jealousy & envy would come out as I watched my parents create a safe space for her development — an even safer space for her than they did for me. Those fits of rage would result in brutal discipline for not setting an example for my younger sibling. Mix that all in with the constant dumping of my parents’ upbringing in rural Haiti and their pervasive Catholic dogma; a diabolical recipe for shame. This placed a huge burden of responsibility of being the eldest daughter & middle child of emotionally dysregulated immigrant parents. The ‘rose-tinted’ glasses were ripped off my face before I even had a chance to surrender my blissful nature and accept my burden(s). All of a sudden, responsibility was banging at my internal walls from all angles, accompanied by fight-or-flight survival and emotional discipline.

I became a target for comparison, scapegoating, and negligence, emotionally & physically — my needs didn’t feel important to my family’s cyclical dysfunction. If it didn’t serve my parents on their quest to further coddle my older brother or lack of discipline for my younger sister, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to be believed and my presence was ignored. The little cuts and bruises piled up like tally marks as I continued to grow into my mind, body, and spirit.

The same energy I felt from my immediate family was the same energy I felt from peers at school & in community. Having a birthmark under my eye & a hyperactive nature didn’t make things better for “the kid” either — enduring relational bullying & reactive abuse made me want to tap out. There was no space for “the kid” to just…exist.

Something always had to be “nitpicked.”

Something always had to be “compared.”

Something always had to be "criticized.”

Something always had to be “sacrificed.”

Something always had to be “tamed” when it came to “the kid.”

There was this overwhelming sense of fear projected onto “the kid” that could not be explained. And when “the kid” dared to ask why she was being treated differently by her peers, family, and community members, she was always met with “You always doing too much,” as if that was a justifiable reason for treating “the kid” like she didn’t belong.

Too much.

There I was, a black child in this American system built to systemically break my tiny human body in any way shape or form, doing too much. Lord have mercy, this black child just has an unexplainable sense of passion the World mistakes for weakness.

Eventually, “the kid” was so bruised up that she had to be tucked away. She felt if she didn’t sacrifice her sense of Self, the World would never quit breaking her Spirit. It was within her burden where she felt she had to sacrifice “the kid” inside in order for her essence to be saved. She needed to be strong & resilient for the Darkness of this Earthly realm. She knew just being “soft” & “nice” would get her nowhere. The burning passion for life had to be fiercely protected for the ancestors who came before her. They didn’t fight for their independence for their own descendants to be ashamed of themselves. My quest for Liberation became my life’s passion & mission. I no longer had a desire to be like everyone else. I needed to find out why I had been unnecessarily dealt these cards in “life.” Me and God were internally scraping and my developing ego had to figure out the mystery of my existence. I wasn’t going to let my adolescence be stolen from me and I damn sure wasn’t interested in becoming jaded in my Darkness either. This life is too precious to allow the Darkness to silence me.

And so, at the ripe age of 12, “the kid” decided to dedicate her life to following her heart, surrendering the innocence of her youth for the dream of “becoming herself.”

Following the decision to seek & surrender to Spirit, every encounter with a person or an experience was an opportunity for me to explore parts of myself and breakthrough the comfort of “arrested development.” If I was going to fire plough in the Dark, the least I could do was do it on my terms.

Now that I am Raph Draws, the beginning periods of my life are starting to make sense and I am beginning to feel a healthy pride for not giving up on this journey “home.” The World will make you feel like you don’t belong, but your existence is merely a testament to how miraculous this life truly is. It’s up to you to seek out that truth, however way it aligns with you.

Until next time,

~R