“My mother had a lot of different men in and out. People would come live with us. We were always moving around. I counted the places we lived at one point, and it was over twenty-five. It was chaos, emotional chaos. The not knowing where you’re going to live, not knowing if you’re going to be able to eat. Not knowing clearly what the fuck is actually going on. I moved out and got my own apartment when I turned sixteen. Went to Job Corps, finished Job Corps. Got my GED. By the time I was seventeen I was living by myself, going to college, I had a job. I was meeting a lot of people I would otherwise have never met. I’m proud of myself. I’m living up to my own standard. I made it through all this bullshit. I had enough power to do it. I had enough talent to do it. I felt like a super independent woman. There’s a joy of doing things on your own: the freedom, the not having to answer to anyone. Nobody you have to call and say: ‘Hey, it’s me. This is where I’m going, this is what I’m doing, this is when I’m going to be home.’ There’s also a pain of doing it on your own—and it happens to be that exact same thing.”
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