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Program
Descriptions
Classic Program
Senior Focus
Crossing Borders
Volume 7, Number 2 - Spring 2009
Through
compelling written responses, women at Bo Robinson Education and
Treatment Center, a minimum-security correctional facility in Trenton,
discovered an inner light that kindled their journey “home”. The
following reflections are in response to short stories read during ten
People & Stories sessions funded by the National Endowment for the Arts.
Our group was fortunate to have Alvin Aubert, a guest author, share his
poetry and inspiration for writing. We also spent two sessions on
revision, particularly the use of figurative language and powerful
leads. This group was passionate about writing, about the possibility of
telling their stories and what it might mean for personal and communal
restoration.
Have you ever witnessed something you wish you had not or seen
something you wish you could have turned off?
Tiffany L.
There I stood in my Holly Hobbie pajamas at the top of the stairs,
peeking from behind my small hands, which were covering my fear-filled
eyes. The knots in my small stomach were increasing as I witnessed the
terror of two people who were trying to take the life out of each other.
Bam. Boom. I could hear the sound of the pregnant woman and the man’s
body pounding the stairs. Each of them, intertwined, tumbled down the
stairs. “I’ll teach you not to come home on time,” the woman screamed
with rage as she raised the hammer to his head. I quickly covered my
eyes again and the sound of the hammer against his skull quickly caused
the fear to manifest in my eyes as tears. My stomach was making waves
as if there was a terrible storm going on in the ocean. I stood frozen
in the moment, wondering about my unborn sister.
What advice were you given as a child growing up?
Nicole S. “Please wear a dress; it’s your first day of
school. Always make a good first impression. What do you mean you don’t
like your teacher? You better learn to like them. Your skirt is too
short, your pants are too tight, and don’t you care about what people
think of you? I don’t care what’s in fashion; you look like a damn fool
wearing that. You’re too skinny, baby, put on some weight. You’ve put on
some weight, baby, go on a diet. You need a haircut. Why would you dye
your hair that color? You’ve got too much make-up. Honey, you look
half-dead, put on some make-up. You deserve better than that,
sweetheart; don’t settle for less than you deserve. Always strive for
perfection. I raised you better than this.”
Do you think it’s possible to not be someone’s mother for a while?
Kelly B.
I believe when Myrna said, “I’m sorry. I just
can’t be your mother right now,” she meant that she loved him, but
doesn’t agree with his behavior. She has to put that distance between
them, so that the resentment won’t grow. She knows what he did was wrong
and perhaps, to me, there is no understanding for what he did. But he is
still her child and she’ll have to love him from afar.
Darlene M. Throughout the whole story, Myrna pleaded in a
way that Kenny should have known. She wanted him to be remorseful about
what he’d done to another human. Just the nature of the crime had her
thinking that he wasn’t remorseful. I think this scared her out of still
wanting to be his mother.
Nicole S.
A strong aroma of freshly cooked food lingering
in a crock pot filled the air. Everything had its own place, every nook
carefully organized and decorated just right to give it that “home”
feeling. Growing up, my mother held two full-time jobs, her regular 9-5
and her 24-hour cooking and cleaning and caring for my father and I. To
say I grew up in a traditional household would be an understatement. Mom
gave off the image of June Cleaver and my father—well, he was more like
that macho detective straight off NYPD Blue. They held firm onto their
roles. Dad was the man of the house, but mom was the glue that held it
together. And me, I was the one thing my mom couldn’t organize,
couldn’t find a place for, and surely couldn’t fix. From childhood, my
parents tried to fit me in their mold, which was something like fitting
a circle into a square. Now, later in my life, as a mother and as a
woman I have learned to appreciate my parents’ traditional life.
Although it is not the household that I yearn to raise my son in, I have
learned to intertwine their ways with my own.
Casssandra W.
Balthazar lied because he didn’t want to look like a fool in front of
his friends. Pepe “wins” because he manipulated Balthazar into making
him a birdcage. Then when his father refuses to let him have the cage,
Pepe faked like he was crying so that Balthazar would feel sorry for him
and give him the cage. I’m sad for Balthazar because he got played. Now
he’s out of the birdcage, broke, drunk and all alone in the streets.
This has happened to me on several occasions on the streets. I’ve tried
to buy my friends. Whenever I got broke they would leave me out in the
streets—broke and all alone.
Describe your mother’s presence.
Tiffany L.
My mother’s presence was cold and ambiguous to
me, sort of that of a cloudy winter day. I never knew what to expect of
her moods. If she was happy then it was a good day, however if it was
not a good day for her I felt the wrath of anything negative that may
have been felt throughout the course of her day. Often times I wish I
could have been a weather forecaster to forecast her day.
Nicole R.
I talked to my mom last night and she sounded like love to my ears. I
miss her; I want her near me. Since my dad died, I realize that I should
treat her better. I need her and I pray that she gets healed. I want to
show her that I can do right and that all is not lost. The sound of her
voice made tears come to my heart. I felt like a child reaching out to
be picked up.
Reflections After Reading Reveal
Sources of Light:
Inspired by Gish Jen’s “Chin”
Inspired by Jamaica Kincaid’s “Girl”
Inspired by Barbara Neely’s “Spilled Salt”
Inspired by Chinua Achebe’s, “Marriage is a Private Affair”
Inspired by Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s “Balthazar’s Marvelous Afternoon”
Inspired by Audre Lorde’s, “Zami: A New Spelling of my Name”