Garcelle Beauvais - Love Me as I Am

I Am Mixed

I Am Living in 2 Homes

I Am Awesome

LOVE ME AS I AM. Copyright 2022 by Garcelle Beauvais. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

FIRST EDITION

Cover design: Stephen Brayda

Cover lettering: Alicia Tatone

Cover photographs: Kwaku Alston for foureleven agency

Art by Suns07butterfly/Shutterstock, Inc.,

Niki Paronak/Shutterstock, Inc., Le Panda/Shutterstock, Inc., and Anastasia Lembrrik/Shutterstock, Inc

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

Digital Edition APRIL 2022 ISBN: 978-0-06-309960-9

Version 03022022

Print ISBN: 978-0-06-309958-6

This book is dedicated to my mother, Marie Claire Beauvais; KeKe. You gave me the wings to fly and the freedom to be unconventionally fearless in my journey. You will always be the beautiful butterfly on my shoulder.

I also dedicate this book to my three boys, Oliver, Jax, and Jaid. You have taught me how to love, forgive, and keep pushing past my pain. You gave me purpose and balance. Thank you for sharing your mommy with the world.

There is only one way to avoid criticism:

do nothing, say nothing, and be nothing.

Aristotle

T his book is about my journey to finding Garcelle... finding my G-spot. Initially, many of you might think that this will be just a salacious collection of sexually charged kiss-and-tell stories from my life. Not my intention, but I hope you wont be disappointed. Wink. Wink. To me, the tongue-in-cheek phrase G-spot means my core. Translated, it means digging deep and dealing head on with principles I still struggle to wrap my mind around. It means finding contentment and peace even in my weakest, darkest, and most lonely moments. When therere no lights, camera, and even when Im getting no action. Yes, thats the real G-spot for me. The understanding and acceptance of the many bits and parts that make up my truths.

Keeping it real is at the center of my truth. Keeping it real with myself, my colleagues, my family, and my friends. Its not in my nature to fake it. The truth is always written all over my face and flowing from my soul. Some can handle it and others cant. I cant change other people; I can only make sure that I stay faithfully committed to showing up authentically. So that I show up like the best version of Garcelle.

Getting to the core of my best self and shining light, this is where I continue to find my greatest satisfaction and release. By getting up every morning; giving life everything Ive got, so I can try to perfect me and share the best version of myself with my kids, family, and friends.

* * *

Childhood is the most beautiful of all lifes lessons.

Rachel Carson

W ith a unique name such as Garcelle, you would have to expect that my life would be colorful and unconventional. How a little Black girl, with an absentee father, from a small island in the Caribbean had the audacity to dream of being an international model, actress, author, producer, and reinventor of herself I will never begin to know. God is great!

Marie Claire Beauvais brought me into the world on a Monday morning under a full moon on November 28, 1966. To let you in on a little secret, I actually celebrate two birthdays. Even though I was born on the twenty-eighth, when they were doing my immigration paperwork at the airport when immigrating to the United States, the twenty-sixth was mistakenly recorded... fun fact!

My fathers name was Axel Jean-Pierre. Rumor has it, he left to get milk or ice cream when I was three or four years old. I didnt see him again until I was fourteen. And Ive never looked at the ice cream man the same way ever again. Poof! Just like that he vanished into thin air. I guess he either never found the ice cream, or just forgot our address. I was way too young to remember the exact details of the day it happened, but definitely not too nosey to snoop around and eavesdrop on the adult whispering about it. I was also very aware and had a front row seat to see the tears of sadness that welled up in my moms eyes for years after he left. I believe he was the love of her lifeI think I overheard that tooand his betrayal left a huge gash on her heart and mine too.

Either way, I dont remember much of anything about him during my early years. I dont have memories of us snuggling or me sitting on his lap and being held. I dont have a distinctive smell of cologne or tender moment to associate with him. I have no fond stories of warm tender hugs or soothing bedtime stories before I drifted off to sleep. No words of wisdom or fatherly advice on boys and men to lament on. There was no paternal bond or air of familiarity and affection with this person who I was told was my dad. The word dad for me at a young age held no meaning or customary feelings of safety, protection, or love to associate with it. He simply didnt exist, and my world consisted of just me, my mom, my sisters, brothers, and some extended family.

I was the youngest of seven children. Three older siblingsMaurice, Yves-Rose, and Caroleall had the same father. Then came my sisters Gladys, Chantal, and my brother Elie, who had another father. They happened to grow up in Montreal, Canada, with their father. Then there was me, whom my mother had with my father, Axel Jean-Pierre. I never took his last name and I ended up with my mothers maiden name instead.

I was a Peenie Greet, or skinny twig, as my brother Maurice referred to me. I was painfully skinny, a little on the taller side, and lacking the hint of curves that many young Haitian women inherit from their mothers and grandmothers. We Haitians l-o-v-e our nicknames! I was so skinny that my older sister Carole, who loved sewing and making dresses, would call on me when she needed a ruler. She would tell me to lie down and then use my legs like a big stencil to trace out fabric lengths. Desperate to gain some weight, I would eat and immediately lay down, hoping that the food would settle and miraculously stick to my bones, creating extra curves. I hated my protruding wings on my back, as I called them. I agonized that I looked like I was going to fly away in the wind because my shoulder blades stuck out so much. Oh, and because they made me feel self-conscious, I hated wearing halter tops. What I wouldnt do to go back and tell that little girl that those lovely bones and never-ending twig-like legs would be her blessings instead of her curses in life.

I was never given a middle name. Instead, I embraced my nickname, not the Peenie Greet one, but the name Gachou. I wholeheartedly loved this pet name, but Im not totally convinced it even had a real meaning or an official way to spell it. I think it represents a mashup of my name somewhere in there with a little extra umph and love. Looking back now I think I loved the name Gachou because it made me feel loved and instantly defined me culturally. It still does. If you didnt have a nickname you simply werent Haitian, so I wear it proudly. Until this day Gachou is who I am to my family, and even to my close friends.