Am I a punk now?

The evolution of an inner city kid.

Photo by Justin Yeung on Unsplash

When my father was in the hospital, I arrived one morning, and they had moved him to a new room. I was visibly frustrated when I arrived at my dad's room. The nurse was there, and I must’ve commented on the situation. My dad quickly told the nurse, “just do what she says so she doesn’t flip this place upside down.” Of course, he didn’t mean physically but then again, maybe (LOL). He knew I loved him, and if I needed to flip that hospital upside down to ensure he was okay, it was getting flipped. My dad was my best friend, biggest supporter, and most significant ally. He was quick to reward and equally quick to correct. 

I grew up in inner-city Boston, Massachusetts. Dorchester, Field’s Corner, specifically, was my neighborhood. My dad taught me to defend myself. I was not to allow anyone to disrespect my person, verbally or physically. I had older siblings that had laid down that law in the neighborhood, and as the youngest, I reaped the benefits. 

We don't know: some little black boy or girl growing up in the inner city might grow up and cure cancer for all of us - if we let them do it.

Alex Haley