So, the homegirl @str8nochaser had axed me a question, and I’ma write on it. (Go follow her, too.)
“your question: if you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?”
I have two reactions; one is knee-jerk and one is a bit more thoughtful.
Knee-jerk - I wouldn’t change a thing. I wouldn’t change a thing because I’m where I am in no small part due to their carefulness, their lessons, and what they impressed upon me. Hell, I’ve been in therapy, but not for my years with them; that was for post-college bumps in the Real World. And it’s hard to want to do things differently when friends of mine absolutely HATE their parents and had it a lot worse than I did.
After some thought, I could have done without the Southern Baptist indoctrination. I could have done with a bit more guidance on calling out bullshit - my mom still won’t, but will talk a lot of shit after the offender is long gone - and I could have done without the scare tactics they employed that made me afraid of sexual contact, lest I get some girl pregnant and “your life is over”.
My childhood was filed with travel, and emphasis on study. I was left alone to draw and create and be intellectually curious. I was surrounded by love, which steered me away from the gang culture that raged in my community, the Compton and Los Angeles of the 80s. I found home in the city and in the backwoods of Mississippi. I found my passions amidst reams and reams of copier paper and cheap markers, of Prodigy dial up and sneaking to record HBO Real Sex. And they helped that happen; not merely getting out of the way, but encouraging me to go learn things. They weren’t perfect, but they did the best they could, and that best was pretty good.