Childhood
Bladders Cannot Be Trusted
It’s not uncommon for kids to have accidents. Especially when you’re very little and have impossibly tricky over-all fastens, as I learned in kindergarten. I was never a bedwetter, but more than one occasion sleeping in my grandparent’s bed — waterbed — resulted in a rude awakening.
By Rii Pierce5 years ago in Confessions
The Un-Slippery Slope
Okay, before I tell this story you have to promise two things; 1. DON'T JUDGE ME! and 2. You won't hold me responsible if you pee your pants from laughing hysterically in disbelief. We good? Alright, cool beans. Just so we're clear, I regret NOTHING about this day. It was a learning experience and it made for a tear jerking, hysterical story to retell in my adult life.
By Tink5 years ago in Confessions
Between a Rock and a Hard Place, Indeed
Although I currently call the province of Alberta my home, I'm a Newfoundlander, born and bred - and I'll be one 'til I die. Growing up in the '90s, I was the living embodiment of a free-range child. I was adventurous, chaotic. Choosing to cannonball rather than dip my toes in to test the water. My friends and I would leave our respective homes in the morning, ready to seize the day. Our parents rarely saw us until the streetlights lit the night sky like beacons; barring the occasional bathroom breaks and scavenging for food like the feral house goblins we were. My hometown has always been a wonderful, quiet little place, where our neighbors knew everyone's business, and always kept a watchful eye. These types of small towns instill a certain level of trust. If our parents only knew half of what we were up to! We were resilient children, and were confident that nothing bad would ever happen to us - until it did.
By Megan Oliver5 years ago in Confessions
Attention Shoppers
Yea. Yea. Yea. I know, I was old enough to know better, but the fear I had for my step mother paralyzed my vocal cords. Ok so let's take it back to August 1998, I was 8 years old. The day started off as a regular day of errands and shopping but quickly shaped into a Saturday morning that I would never forget and a secret that I vowed to keep.
By Monique Peck5 years ago in Confessions
My Untold Truth
It was Maya Angelou who said, "there is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you." Sometimes your best story is the one you chose to keep hidden under the covers of life. My most embarrassing moments in life came with me learning something from the experience that would help me down the road. So maybe what I share will do the same for someone who reads it. This challenge for me will be like no other as I come into a place of liberation that I didn't know I was still attainable by sharing my truth! Let's get started!
By Aundrya Richardson5 years ago in Confessions
Welcome to the Sixth Grade
This story will seem embellished. I assure you it is true and my cheeks still turn red hot every time I retell it. It was a hot summer day in the year 2002. I was a bright eyed sixth grader that wanted so desperately to fit in. It was probably my fourth week into my middle school career and this place was so vastly different than my elementary school. Not only was the school different; so were my friends! It was like they grew up five years over the summer.
By Sabrina Wiles5 years ago in Confessions
From Skin to Skin
What do you say to yourself being raised in white America as a fourteen-year-old black boy? What do you tell yourself when the media depicts white as beautiful and shows little to no concern for anyone else? What does that do to a child psychologically? It makes them feel like they were birthed in the wrong bodysuit, gazing into the mirror, seeing their melanin as the culprit, like there was a pigmentation mistake in the baby-making department, and they got swapped out for another. That is how I felt at the time. It got to a depressing point where I scoured the web, soul-searching YouTube videos of how to change skin colors and appear more white. The video response was a black man applying an excessive amount of baby powder on his face as a parody. Now, even though the video came off as satire, at the time, I was unnerved because clearly, I was facing psychological issues that took root in my childhood. From wanting my name changed to wishing to be somebody else entirely seemed very off-putting, especially as an eight or nine-year-old. I would not know how to respond if my child asked, "Why am I made like this?" and, "Why am I so ugly," especially if you heard the word beautiful and immediately associated it with your white counterparts.
By Masibat Zadah5 years ago in Confessions
Youngest Doll
I grew up with four siblings, two boys, and two girls, me being the youngest. Believe me, when I say, I had a lot of experience with them since at the age of 7 (that's the only age I started to remember everything), whether it be happy times or the unforgettable pranks that will always be brought up in family gatherings despite 28 years had passed and it's humiliating me.
By PILI5 years ago in Confessions
Regretful Notewriters Anonymous
Overeager Notetaker I sat in 3rd period, waiting for my best friend Natalie to get in her seat so I could give her the hilarious and over the top note I’d written in History. I tended to be considered more reserved with my humor, but with the topic in class being on the boring side, I found myself drifting off to a silly world where my usually contained emotions were put on display for my best friend. I remember looking back at the words and chuckling as everyone coursed through the room loudly as they got to their seats.
By Mycheille Norvell5 years ago in Confessions
