Chapter Text
My life hasn't been peachy keen from the start. To be honest it never has been great. It was when I met Joanne my life got better. My name is Maureen Colette Johnson and this is my story.
It was late in the night. The day was April 8th, 1964. I started giving my mother trouble when I was on the way to the world. I came after 31 hours of labor and 1 hour of pushing According to my mother I came out as a star.
My parents never really had much but each other and me. I was born into poverty. My father is Jewish and my mother is Italian with some Jewish ancestry. They felt as if race was a social construct. My mother would say.
"White, Black, or Asian we all are the same inside."
I was three when I witnessed the unimaginable. My mother's sister committed suicide in our little shack. She slit her throat and bled out in front of me. She was supposed to be watching me. I remember what she said to me as I played with my ragged barbie.
"Auntie Em can't do this anymore. You're gonna watch Auntie go now. Say bye-bye."
I said bye with a smile. That smile faded once she took a piece of broken glass and slit her throat. I remember her laying there choking on her blood. Me being three years old I thought she needed a band-aid to feel all better. I went to the cabinet and got one and plastered it on the deep uneven slit. I pressed my little hands on the band-aid. I couldn't reach the sink to wash my hands so I just continued with Barbie.
I didn't know what happened was a big deal or even sad until my mother walked in and screamed. That's as far as I remember. But my mother cried for a week straight. She was distraught at the fact she killed herself in front of me. Causing me trauma.
I remember the first time I actually understood what financial situation we were in. I was 5 and we were kicked out of our shack, a literal shack. It was at that moment I decided I wanted to become a performer to provide for my family.
After we were kicked out we started living in my dad's friend's house that he owned. A week later my father lost his job driving trucks. That's when my life went shit.
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FEBRUARY 18th 1972
My little brother Maurice was just four months when my father came bursting into the house that we were staying. He slammed the door behind him. I was in my room and overheard my parents' conversation.
"Leah I don't know what we're going to do. We live paycheck to paycheck."
I poked my head out looking into the living room.
"Baby, listen we can push through."
"Well, the load just got heavier. I lost my job they were too many workers they had to fire some people."
My mother who was standing up sat down quickly and started to cry and kissing my baby brother.
"Oh. We're doomed."
My father just stood there with tears in his eyes. He held them in because he felt as if a man should never cry. He then just walked out.
Soon it was dinner time and dad wasn't home. My mother was worried sick.
"Come on Maureen finish your food. Would you like some more carrots?"
"No mama. That's daddy's favorite part. Let's save them for him."
Not long after I said that in walks my drunk father. My mother's mood instantly shifted. There isn't an exact word for it but she sure changed.
"I thought you stopped drinking." Said, my mother.
Her voice cracked. My father had drinking problems before. He promised my mother he would never drink again. My mother grabbed my baby brother and ordered me to get up. She walked into a room and grabbed an already packed bag. She was leaving my father. Or at least she was attempting to leave my father.
As soon as she grabbed the bag, he grabbed her wrist and with one hand twisted and broke her tiny wrist. My drunk disoriented father threw my mother around. The sounds of the punches and kicks were terrifying. But seeing it with my own eyes was ghastly. All I could do was jump on my father's back and hit him with my tiny hands. He throws me off of him. I hit the mirror with full force. The glass breaks and shatters. I felt this sharp intense pain in the back of my head. Everything went silent.
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The loudness of the ambulance sirens. The blood leaking down my neck. The shattered glass. The screams. If you asked me to explain it in one word. I would say hell. Complete absolute hell.