by Zhanubia Divine
Wareham, Massachusetts, USA
I grew up moving around constantly with my mother. We stayed in recovery programs for women and their children, various apartments, and at one point a hotel. I got placed in foster care for about a year, and one of my guardians ended up being a very abusive uncle. During those few months, a black boy got transferred to my predominantly white school, and we grew a bond. After a very intense incident with my uncle, I came into school and he was the only one who seemed to understand. He always seemed troubled and got kicked out of class often. None of the teachers tried to figure out why he was so angry, just treated him like a delinquent. But with me, he was always softer, and we seemed to understand each other to an extent. For years, I wondered how he was and hope he didn’t go the route everyone expected. Here is something I wrote about him at around 13 or 14.