a brief memoir about indestructible forces

Kindra M. Austin

We were poor people. My mother didn’t work, as she was busy raising me (and my sister once she was born in 1983). My dad has never not worked, that is to say I don’t know if he has ever been an unemployment benefit recipient. I only know my dad has always gone some place to earn money, whether he had to hit the pavement, or a hitch a ride. I lacked an awareness of social/economical class, I think mainly because my parents didn’t complain in front of me about scant money; plus, I had really awesome toys, and my clothes were always clean (washed in Tide, for fuck’s sake).

Our family of four moved from Huggins Road in Flint, to Davison Road in Lapeer during the summer of 1984. I began kindergarten at Elba elementary that September at the late age of six. Had I been born on…

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