Brenda Myers-Powell - Leaving Breezy Street

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Id like to dedicate this book to every young girl and boy out there who is sexually abused and trafficked who couldnt find their voice: I believe youand I believe IN you.

I also dedicate this to my frontline Family that supported me through my Journey,

Edwina Gateley my mentor/mother,

and my best friend, Stephanie Daniels-Wilson, who convinced me I had a book.

Respect. Thats how I lived my life: needing respect, demanding respect. And actually thats how I got into a lot of trouble I found myself in. In the hood, it was all about the wordswe used words that played the dozens, we used words that lifted us. Lately, Ive been reading the words Ive written in this book. Are they going to lift you? Are they going to cut you down? I hope they do both. I know nowadays we are more careful with our words. We respect words to convey respect. But back then we didnt. We let it fly. So you should know, Im not trying to tell you a story about my past using the careful words of right now. I call myself a prostitute and a ho in this book because those words are my truth. If you want to really know my story and how it went down, you should know what I was hearing and what I was telling myself. Because its the truth. It may turn your stomach or make you mad, but that might be a good thing. Look around, we need a little truth-telling. God help; God bless and good reading.

I woke up to a beautiful day. I was in Gary, Indiana, staying with my brother Todd. A few weeks back, he had saved me from myself and California. I left my family twelve years before as a drop-dead beauty and came back a messed-up crackhead. But they still loved me; I was still their sister. Todd was always trying to rescue and help me. He had just bought me a new outfit. Really nice jeans with the zipper that circled my hips and a white fitted top. White gym shoes. He got my hair done. My brother wanted me to look good; he didnt want my daughter Prune seeing me look any kind of way. I hadnt seen her yet, but I knew she was twenty-something years old, accomplished, and somebody I wanted to look up to. My brother had told me I could sleep as long as I wanted; I could stay with him as long as I needed. I took him up on it. The crack cocaine had me worn out. For a couple of weeks, all I was good for was sleeping and eating a little bit. But that day, April Fools Day, was the first time I woke up and wanted to stay woke. I wanted to wake up and appreciate my brothers basement.

When my brother bought the house, it was a mess. He had moved away from Chicago when he had been robbed. They had carjacked him. So he decided to move to Gary. He found a one-story house and worked all day and at night and on the weekends until he had his house just the way he wanted. Hed made a laundry room and a very nice bathroom; in the basement, hed made two rooms. Green leather sofa, big-screen TV in one, and in the other, a pullout couch, but a really nice one. Wood paneling all around. Big rug. I was sleeping on the nice pullout couch. My brother Todd was so good to me. Gave me the whole basement. Get your thoughts together, he told me. You really looking wretched, girl.

When I woke up that morning, I noticed the spring weather right outside. Sunshine coming in through the basement windows. I could smell the brand-new leaves growing on the bushes in my brothers backyard. And I was hungry.

I went upstairs to the kitchen. Todd had made me breakfast. A bowl of grits and eggs were set on the table. So was a nice pile of money. I stole glances at the cash and scooped the warm buttered grits into my mouth. I dug in.

Brenda! my brother called out from the other room.

Yeah?

Dont take all my money, now!

I yelled back, Im not! But I took a little. Not enough to hurt him, you know. I counted it. Four hundred dollars. I peeled off a hundred and twenty and stuck it in my titty. That was just enough to do what I needed to do. See, with all that sleep and good food in me, I could finally hear it: the crack cocaine calling. I finished up breakfast and took off toward Broadway. I cant remember if I told my brother I would be back.

I knew I couldnt get drugs from the crack dealers down the block. I didnt want them telling my brother, Your sister was out here buying crack cocaine from us. Plus, he had already asked them very nicely to move their business down the street. He was trying to have a nice house. Todd ran his mechanic shop out of his garage, and he had a lot of women and older guys as his clients. Folks wouldnt come out to him if they had to push through dealers and crackheads just to get their brakes fixed.

I had a plan, though. I was gone go to Chicago, get my high on, and then come back like I aint done a thing. That was the plan. As soon as I made it to Madison Street, I didnt care how amazing the day was. I just wanted to get high. It was a shame how I spent that day hustling to try to get high. A day that was so beautiful. The flowers were smelling good. I was looking good. Todd was taking care of me. I had on new clothes and my hair was done, but I couldnt wait to get back to that greasy, nasty-ass city and get high. I think about it now, I think that day was supposed to happen cause I needed to get to the end of that life. It was a hell of a day. I hopped on the South Shore Line train and headed to Chicago.

When I got to the city, I found out there was a drought. Wasnt no drugs on the street. It happens every now and then. Sometimes drug dealers get a big shipment, and the police snatch it up. There wasnt nothing nowhere. I promise you. I hooked up with my homeboy Petey. He was one of those dudes who wore work clothes even when he wasnt working. Work boots, jumpsuit. The whole thing. He worked in construction, doing a little work in the neighborhood for ten dollars. Together, we searched everywhere. People who did have some drugs was holding on to it or selling it for outrageous prices. Folks were getting pissed off. It was a whole bunch of mess.

Me and Petey stopped on Pulaski Street. That was the spot where I used to go to get high, but they didnt have anything. We walked to a couple more spots on the West Side, but didnt nobody have nothing. And I was ready to shake loose from Petey. The more we looked for drugs together, the more complicated it got. Petey started having ideas about my money. He started pulling at me, saying, Lets go get something to drink.

Nah, man.

Lets go spend some of this money.

No way, I told him. He was trying to block my action. Plus, every time I turn my head, here go Petey rubbing on my ass. So I separated. I didnt give away my honeypot. I been a ho too long for that kind of nonsense.

I went up on Madison to the ho stroll, near Kilbourn, because I knew you can always get drugs up there. JRs Hotelit was a two-hour hotel that the girls could use with no questions askedwas nearby. See, even if you couldnt find it no place else, you could bet your damn dollar they was gone have crack up there. And I wanted my fix right now. I could feel it in my stomach. I went up to Madison, and I went to this furniture store that this old guy owned. Back when I used to roam K-Town, he used to let me come in there and use the bathroom, you know, do my thing. And he had this young girl he was keeping. She was a friend of mine, Diane. Young girl, seventeen years old. Chocolate and pretty all over. And he must have been sixty-eight, sixty-nine years old. Old, bald-head church guy with this young girl. He controlled her terribly. He could control her because she had a habit. I went and asked her if she knew where to go and get some, and she did. Diane asked if she could go in half with me, so she went in to him to get some money, and I could hear them going back and forth, I dont want you doing that stuff. Wait till later. But I guess he had some weak ways, too, because he gave her money and she went out and got some.