My mom called me the other day on her way home from my Grandma’s house.
“Listen to this.” She said
She held the phone away from her ear and I could hear a guitar strumming. Then, I heard the voice of a little girl singing songs about Jesus.
It was me, when I was 6 years old.
My mom had found a box with all kinds of tapes of me and my sister singing. But really, just me, because anytime my sister would try to sing along, I’d sing louder, or tell her to stop because she didn’t know the words, or anything I had to say to make sure that I was the only one singing.
Because I? was A Ham.
I remember making those tapes at my Grandma’s house. I remember strumming my little heart out while singing as loud and as fast as I could--because singing fast was my way of proving how GREAT OF A SINGER I was. It was my way of blowing away whoever dared to sing along with me. I can remember doing that as it if had happened yesterday. I’d be strumming on the guitar singing a song about “God’s not dead, but he’s alive” and my sister (or cousin, or friend) would start singing along and I’d start strumming faster and they’d try to keep up and before you knew it, I sounded like a chimpmonk on speed all ‘NONONONONOGODSNOTDEADBUTHESALIVE.”
I am not quite sure why “fastest singer” = “greatest singer” in my mind, but it did. Or maybe it was just my way of letting people know that they couldn’t keep up with the greatness that was MY VOICE.
Believe it or not, I was full of confidence back then. I thought I had a beautiful voice and that there wasn’t anyone who sang as pretty as I did. I would spend hours singing and recording myself. Whenever someone would sing a solo at church, I would roll my eyes and think “I can’t believe they let you have the microphone.”
(That was when I was 6 years old.)
I’ll never forget the year that I tried out for the lead part in the church Christmas play. We had done the same play the year before and I got the lead part.
(The lead part was a star named Twinkle. And it was awesome because my costume was a HUGE star made out of cardboard and foil and I got to throw glitter in the air, people.)
I thought I had the part in the bag since I had already played it last year and because, you know, I was The Greatest Singer in the church. My mom wanted to be all bitchy and make me try out for the part to “be fair”. My best friend decided she wanted to be Twinkle too (Which, WHATEVER.) so her and I both tried out for it.
The panel of judges included my mom, sister Linda, Sister Sylvia, and some other Sisters in Christ who I can not remember. I was confident that I had the part, but I still sang my heart out just to seal the deal.
The entire car ride home, I kept asking my mom “So, did I get the part?” She kept saying “I can’t tell you yet.”
That didn’t stop me from asking her repeatedly.
“Did I get the part?”
“Joann didn’t get the part, right?
“I got the part, huh?”
“Mom, am I Twinkle?”
Finally, she gave in (or “snapped”. Whichever.) and said “No, you didn’t get the part. Jo got the part.”
Now, remember, Jo was my best friend. (yeah, my best friend who TRIED TO TAKE THE LEAD PART AWAY FROM ME.)
I fuh-reeked out.
“What? Jo got the part? HOW? WHY? I sing WAY better than her! And she can’t act! I was way better than her! WAH WAH WAH.”
This little tantrum went on for about an hour until my mom. Lost.Her.Shit.
She grabbed me by the arm and screamed. “JO DIDN’T GET THE PART. YOU GOT THE PART. I JUST WANTED TO SEE HOW YOU’D ACT AND YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU ACTED LIKE A JEALOUS LITTLE BRAT. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?”
Um. As ashamed as I am to admit to it, yes, yes I was happy. Happy for myself and not the least bit sad for my best friend because, seriously? Who did she think she was trying to STEP TO THIS?
Hearing those tapes of little, confident me singing my heart out brought a flood of emotions to the surface. I wanted to cry, but I try really hard not to cry in front of my mom.
“I can’t believe that I used to be so confident.” I said as we were now listening to the tapes together over the phone. “What happened to me, mom?”
She didn’t know what to say.
I know what happened.
A little girl can only take so many spankings, so many lectures about being obedient and submissive, so many sermons on how you’re going to go to hell if you do this or that or how that red dress makes you look like a whore and “ARE YOU WEARING A BELT? Because you’re only wearing a belt to show off your figure and make the boys look at you, TAKE IT OFF RIGHT NOW LITTLE GIRL” before she begins to feel ashamed of who she is and how she looks and begins to hide who she really is from the people around her.
I do believe that my parents were doing what they believed was best for me so I don’t bring it up to bad mouth them, or because I am angry with them. I bring it up because, well, that is my life story. I feel as though, without knowing it, or intending to do it, my parents broke me down.
The time that stands out in my mind is the night that I won a special award at my junior high musical performance. I had tried out for and made the advance chorus group. There were 10 of us in the group and we had worked many hours after school to put on a song and dance performance. The practices were long and sometimes VERY BORING and so, I would try to do funny things to keep everyone occupied.
I would do silly dances and tell stupid jokes and my teacher would always laugh along with all of the kids (Well, except for the one time I got mad at this one guy because he kept messing his part up and making us stay longer than we normally did and I started mimicking him “Durrrrr. I can’t sing the song because I keep forgetting the words and I lalala” I got BUSTED for that. But every other time, she laughed right along with everyone else.)
The performance went great and we got a standing ovation. We were all so proud because we had worked really hard to make sure it was perfect.
After we were done, my teacher stood up and started talking to the audience about our practices, telling them how hard we had worked and how proud she was of us for our dedication. She then announced that she had a special award that she wanted to give out. She said that there was one person who made things really fun when it got hard. She went on to tell a few stories about how “this person” was funny and silly and how happy she was to have this person made everyone laugh just when they felt like crying.
Then, she said “I’d like to give this “spirit” award to Y and thank her for making us all laugh.”
I was SO HAPPY. I can’t even express it.
That happiness only lasted a short while because as soon as I was reunited with my parents after the show, they started scolding me for goofing off. I don't think they were trying to be mean, but I had embarrassed them by getting an award for acting like a clown.
It was a pretty crushing blow. Instead of making my parents proud, I had humiliated them. And I was no longer happy about the award, because I had been made to feel as though I had done something wrong.
You see, how a child is raised shapes who they are and while I have been able to move past it all, deep down, those things formed me shaped and molded who I am.
And breaking free from that mold is hard.
Almost as hard as it was to admit that I once (scratch that, TWICE) played a character named Twinkle who wore a cardboard costume covered in tinfoil.
whoa... heavy stuff. But, for better or worse, who YOU are right now (mom, wife...friend) is because of how you were raised. And WE wouldn't want you any other way.