Story of my Life - Home Alone

Dedication

 

The Baton of Ignance

I'm going to describe a racist stereotype. A black woman in a government clerk job, lazy and ignorant. Wielding her ignorance like a baton, flailing haphazardly at any intrusion of reason or logic.

I don't bring up this stereotype to mean all black women are lazy and ignorant. I'm talking to the behavior that is demonstrated by the stereotype... which shows up in people of all kinds... I'm using the example of the stereotype to discuss the... aw hell, it's easier just to pretend I'm being completely racist and accept that some people will interpret it that way, rather than try to explain why I'm not. That baton of ignorance is thick and hefty, packs a wallop and bats precision strikes out of the ballpark discussion.

She's lazy to think beyond what her job requires her to. The breadth of communication is short and she is quick to pass her judgment. Rather than interpret facts, she just looks at a checklist. She don't care, she don't want to know, she won't listen to what you have to say if it doesn't fall within a narrow range of rules. That's all she is willing to think about. So if you don't have form 10A filled out, she will send you right back to the end of the line every time.

That's the kind of eyes I feel like I'm getting looked at, why I feel fear of being misunderstood. That someone representative of rules or authority will see me, pass judgment, and use that authority to separate me from the life I know, strip me of my place of safety, and keep me from who and what I care about.

Chapter IVIXIVVLLCCIIXX1.2: Home Alone

 

When I was 7 years old, I moved to Brookline, MA from England. My family is just me and my parents. We did not know American laws or customs well, and we were poor compared to other families in our neighborhood. After school, I walked home and spent the afternoon in a third floor apartment alone.

Being alone did not frighten me. I enjoyed it. I was proud to take care of myself, that I didn't need a babysitter like my coddled classmates. But I soon discovered I could not tell anyone about my pride.

From another Chinese family, my parents heard an urban legend that Child Protection Services takes children away from parents who use spanking to discipline, calling it 'child abuse'. They also heard scare stories that leaving children home alone was considered child abuse, so we became cautious not to let anyone outside the family that I was home alone after school.

My parents came home at maybe five or six - occasionally later, if there was a lot of work that day. They would call to let me know if they would be late. I had to be cautious to know it was them calling before I picked up the phone, so as not to alert anyone who might call i was home alone (there was no one who would, but my parents were nervous so I was nervous).

One day after school, I brought a friend home and failed to keep secrecy. Going to a friend's house after school was one of the great joys of having friends. It meant you were well liked and your happiness was complete.

I was invited to my friend's house that afternoon, but when we got to his house, his babysitter said he had to go to somewhere. My parents didn't get off work this early in the afternoon to pick me up. Normally, I would play at a friend's house until my parents got home.

The babysitter offered to drop me off at my house. I protested that I would walk home, but the babysitter felt she was responsible for my safety and was afraid to let me leave on my own. So we went up to the apartment together, me, my friend, and her.

How could I have known my friend had somewhere else to be that afternoon? He didn't tell me. He forgot he had something else to do. I was a little annoyed that my friend was irresponsible and forgot, annoyed how little responsibility he had in general compared to me, and how his carelessness was putting me at great risk!

I let myself in with my house key and said, 'Thanks for the ride, bye', getting more and more nervous. The babysitter wouldn't have it. She asked to see if my Mom was home. I said 'No, but she'll be back be home very soon.'

It was probably around 4 pm and my Mom wouldn't be back until 5:30 at least, but I figured this babysitter would leave if I tell her everything was alright. Nope, she decided, 'Well, then we'll wait for her together.'

I was doomed. I don't know what I dreaded more, my parents coming home and finding out my failure to keep my secret, or the babysitter being an informant for Child Protective Services.

We didn't own any games in the house to play, so the babysitter hid an eraser in a shoe and told us to look for it. We laughed awkwardly and nervously, when we found the eraser. After 15 minutes, we ran out of anything to do.

The silence in the apartment swallowed every minute movement or unintentional shuffle we made. I sat on my cheap sofa, feeling each second scratch at my fingernail and each minute peel away a layer of skin.

The babysitter thought of a better idea. Do you remember your Mommy's telephone number at work? I had not mastered the art of lying, so I nodded yes. I was also afraid of her alerting the FBI if I didn't do what she asked, so I delicately dialed each digit on the phone. I felt like I was typing my death sentence.

My Mom picked up and I rushed-ly told her everything I could in Chinese about the situation before I handed the phone over to the babysitter, adding that it wasn't my idea to call you, I tried to make the babysitter go awaaaay...!

My Mom couldn't make it home in time. She told the babysitter, 'My husband will be home right away.' Dad was in the middle of an experiment at work, but he was not so cavalier about his duty. Besides, I think he had the car.

Half an hour later, Dad showed up, apologized profusely to the babysitter with smiles and nods, and said a few English words he was comfortable using. When the babysitter left, and along with her, the threat of hosts of uniformed Social Service agents I imagined, Dad dropped his smile and spoke to me. 

 

I could tell he was upset, but not at me, at the situation and at themselves really, I would realize later. 'Mom will be home, tell her you two can eat dinner, I'll be home late." Then he went back to work. That was all he said.

I was at a loss how to respond or what to feel, then I was alone in the apartment. I sat on that silent couch in sullen outrage, thinking what all of this meant?

What mistake did I make, how could I have known or changed things? I was so happy that I could go to a friend's house, but he betrayed me with his carelessness. I accepted that I couldn't invite friends over after school, but now with this unforeseen risk, was I not safe to even go to someone else's house either? Was I not even allowed to make friends at all?

I felt betrayed by my parents that they would let me stay home by myself, when people could threaten to take me away! I felt betrayed even more that my father was already home, yet he went back to work! I expected he would stay home so I wouldn't feel vulnerable after what had just happened, at least, but his work evidently was more important than me. I was left by myself.

After this incident, my parents saw the need to have someone look over me after school. They humbly begged the help of an elderly Chinese grandfather to look after me. The old man made me hold his hand while crossing the street, and told me not to walk to far ahead.

But I already knew the taste of freedom, independence, and pride in taking care of myself. I was used to walking the same route home, crossing the same streets, without endangering myself and now I was forced to do things his way, for his sake to quell his fears, which I had not! I hated it.

The old man's hands were always damp and he walked so slowly that I did not care for him to control me. I did every little detail in any way different than he asked, to exert my liberation from his clammy grasp. Needless to say, I was more than a handful for the old man, and he was relieved when his care over me ended!

 

Could be continued...