Chapter One

When I was 8 years old, my family moved to Colorado, a place where our neighbors were predominantly white. My parents didn't introduce me to anyone who looked like me, and the few encounters I had with black individuals through church didn't reflect the societal differences I'd later come to understand. As a young boy, I didn't fully grasp the complexities of race and identity. I lived in a world where everyone around me was different from what I saw in the mirror.

One significant distinction in my life was the religious background I was raised in. My family followed the Church of Christ, a faith community known for its acapella worship and conservative doctrine. But on that particular Sunday morning, my parents decided to take me to my grandfather's Baptist church. Baptists were different in so many ways – their lively hymns, fervent sermons, and a freedom in worship that I had never witnessed in my own church. It was the first glimpse into a world that contrasted sharply with my upbringing, and little did I know, it would lead to an eye-opening experience that would shape my understanding of identity and culture.

One Sunday morning, after several visits to my grandfather's Baptist church, I realized that I was different from the other kids in the congregation. They had a lively spirit, and I couldn't help but be drawn into their animated praise and worship. But when I tried to join in, I felt like an outsider. My reserved Church of Christ upbringing clashed with the exuberance of the Baptist community.

As I attempted to participate, my actions, the way I spoke, and even my mannerisms didn't align with what was considered "normal" in that Baptist congregation. It became apparent that my behavior marked me as an outsider. In a moment that would stay with me for years, the entire church seemed to dismiss me, as if I was an oddity not to be taken seriously. It was my first experience of being labeled a "coon" by those who didn't understand the nuances of my upbringing.

This eye-opening experience shook me to my core, making me acutely aware of how whiteness was reflected not just in the faces around me but also in the way people expected me to act. It was a defining moment in my journey toward understanding my identity and the challenges that lay ahead.

Desperate to fit in, I adopted a new persona. I dressed exclusively in baby blue, earning the nickname "Playboy" within the black community. Initially, I didn't view it as a negative term; in my mind, it symbolized being well-groomed and fashionable. However, within their community, "pretty boy" had a different connotation - it meant I was perceived as soft. As I transitioned into my teenage years, I tried my best to embrace this persona, hoping it would help me gain acceptance.

Gradually, it worked. I was slowly becoming a part of the black community, forging bonds and friendships that brought me a sense of belonging. But there was a significant divide in my life. While I was gaining acceptance in one world, I was inadvertently distancing myself from my white friends who couldn't relate to my evolving identity.

The most challenging part of this transformation was the reaction from my family. They couldn't understand why I was changing, why I was trying so hard to fit into a mold that they didn't recognize. It became a source of tension within my household, as I grappled with the contrasting expectations of my family and my newfound community.

As I continued to explore my identity and seek acceptance within the black community, I found myself in a battle on multiple fronts. My parents viewed my transformation as a direct attack against their conservative Christian morals. The clash between their beliefs and my evolving identity led to harsh confrontations, both mentally and physically. I became the target of their frustration and disappointment, a painful experience that I carried with me.

Even more disheartening was the fact that my parents enlisted my siblings in their disapproval, turning my own family against me. I became an outcast in my own home, isolated and struggling to find a sense of belonging anywhere. The wounds from the mental and physical abuse inflicted by my parents were not just physical; they ran deep, leaving scars on my psyche.

Despite the turmoil at home, my determination to explore my identity and find acceptance in the black community only grew stronger. It was a tumultuous time in my life, one marked by both inner strength and deep pain, as I navigated the complex terrain of self-discovery amidst the adversity of my family's disapproval.

The tension and conflict within my family eventually reached a boiling point, leading to a moment I knew I had to escape. I made the painful decision to run away from home, seeking refuge with my best friend, Stuart.

Stuart was a Native American, adopted by an old single white guy. What I experienced during those two weeks living with them would change my entire perspective on acceptance and love. In Stuart's home, I found a warmth and openness that contrasted sharply with the environment I had left behind. His adopted father, despite being from a different background, welcomed me with open arms. I felt like a part of their family, cherished for who I was, without judgment or expectation. It was a stark contrast to the conflicts and rejection I had faced in my own home.

During that time, I not only learned about the Native American culture but also discovered the power of acceptance and unconditional love. It was a turning point in my life, one that would continue to shape my journey of self-discovery and understanding of the world around me.

The short-lived sanctuary I had found with Stuart and his adopted father was shattered when my parents, with the help of their conservative Christian cop friend, located me at my job. At the age of 14, I had lied on my hen house job application, desperate to make money and assert my independence. The police showed up at my workplace, informed my employer of my true age, and I was summarily fired.

They didn't stop there. They forcibly returned me to my family home, where I endured a severe beating as punishment for my rebellion. The physical and emotional scars from that experience ran deep, a constant reminder of the struggle I faced in trying to reconcile my evolving identity with the expectations and beliefs of my family.

Despite the setbacks and pain, I couldn't ignore the fire that had been ignited within me during my time with Stuart and his family. It was a fire that burned with the desire for acceptance, understanding, and a place where I could be true to myself. This painful chapter in my life only fueled my determination to continue on my path of self-discovery, even in the face of adversity.

Fueled by a burning desire for independence and acceptance, I made the decision to run away once more. This time, I was determined to keep my safe haven a secret from my parents. I found a new job at Popeyes chicken, embracing the opportunity to earn a living and assert my autonomy.

But life has a way of repeating itself, and a few months later, my world came crashing down again. As an abused 15-year-old kid, caught in the crossroads of self-discovery and a search for my roots, I had already endured a lifetime of pain and uncertainty. The challenges I faced at home, the physical and emotional abuse inflicted upon me, were scars etched into my young soul. Yet, despite the turmoil, I couldn't suppress the fire within me, the burning desire to explore my identity and find a place where I truly belonged.

The turning point in my tumultuous journey came when my sister, whether out of concern or misunderstanding, discovered my whereabouts. Her revelation set in motion a chain of events that would forever alter my life. She alerted the police, and in the dead of night, they arrived at Stuart's house, where I had found a brief respite from the turmoil of my past. Handcuffed and bewildered, I was forcibly dragged out of bed, a scared and confused teenager with no understanding of what lay ahead.

They didn't explain their actions or offer reassurance. They didn't tell me where I was going or why. I was handcuffed and left in the dark, both figuratively and literally, about my future. The journey to an uncertain destination had begun, and as a 15-year-old kid, I couldn't have felt more vulnerable. This was a pivotal moment in my quest for self-discovery, where I had to muster every ounce of resilience to face the unknown path that lay ahead.