The Forgiveness Project

Passage from "Hopeful Days" - Mama is so pleased about me clearing enrollment to become a five-year-old first grader. A few days ago, I overheard her say to Miss Latham—"Meka's elementary school, Union Academy, has two-levels for new students, high first and first grade. Based on my understanding," she continued, "Meka tests high enough academically to be in the regular first grade class with those six-year-old students."
In a few hours, I will officially begin my first day of school, making her proud! My ear-to-ear trademark smile shows off all my pearly whites! I'm quickly reciting my polite manners skills, which Mama says always start with turning on my listening ears … I feel so happy inside when Mama smiles back at me. My siblings and Mama are turning my heart into a warm, cheerful smiley face! The way everyone lets me be first in line for important things like washing my face, brushing my teeth, and getting breakfast makes me feel special. HOORAY!!! Everyone is exploding with excitement because I'm the first child among us to start school!
They added the final touches for my school debut: the outfit, lunch and school supplies made it a finished task. David and Mandy are scurrying around, making sure sharpened pencils, paper, and a composition tablet are in the designated book satchel. After breakfast, it was time to attentively sit on the floor in front of Mama's chair between her legs so she could comb-out and braid my hair. She parted it in three sections, then made one large braid in the top that hung down in my face below my eyebrows and one on each side, landing above each ear.
Now it was time to put on that brand new dark brown scoop front jumper and a white blouse with a puffy ruffle down the front covering the row of white buttons. A new pair of black and white saddle oxfords rounded out the school outfit. Mama did all the school shopping at a dime store called McClelland's. Now, we are ready to take on this new adventure as one big, happy family.
"Meka, iron this ribbon so you can wear a bow in your hair," Mama said as she laid a multi-colored striped wrinkled ribbon on the ironing board.
Moving the warm iron over the wrinkles made them disappear. But then the ribbon started getting wrinkly again. Now, I didn't know why it did that. It frightened me watching this happen. Mama looked over, checking the progress, and could see the ribbon reacting to the heat.
Mama yelled! "Stop ironing it!" She walked towards me and followed up with a pounding hand slap on the back of my head. Come on, what're you doing?”
"Can't you do anything right?" This is how I learned the beautifully colored hair ribbon was burning.
I started crying in response to the slap and yelling.
"Stop crying!" Mama hollered.
The pain from the slap on my head hurt. But it was dull compared to the hurt I felt in my heart every time Mama yelled at me for disappointing her.
Besides yelling and slapping our face, Mama also spanked us with switches or belts, like most parents in my neighborhood. Painful spankings with belts, switches or the back of your parent's hands were among the methods used for child-rearing in my household. But my greatest scars came from being yelled at by adults in charge of my wellbeing. Or when they used humiliating labels and would tell me to be quiet as I cried in response to the pain in my heart.
As time moved forward, whether I was seeking help with homework or asking to go outside to play, I learned that asking follow-up questions was a sure way to receive punishment from an adult care giver managing my life. Sometimes Mama's help with Math homework was confusing when she explained the steps for doing subtraction. What did "take away" mean, anyway? When we were looking at a set on numbers in columns, it didn't make sense to me at the time? Questions would raise her ire.