Sociology Autobiography

The first thing I remember is my mother. She was sitting on the floor painting cartoon animals on the wall. She was pregnant. She had a cigarette in her mouth, in a way I now recognize as the exact same way her mother held a cigarette in her mouth. She had a paintbrush in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other, and she was laughing. I don't know what she was laughing about, I just remember feeling warm, and safe, and loved.

My mother grew up in what sociologists call absolute poverty. She knew dirt floors, homemade clothes, and work - hard work. She was one of six children. Her father was blinded in a coal mine accident and her mother was responsible for supporting their family. This is important because her experiences shaped how she raised me. My mother taught herself how to read when she was teaching me. My mother insisted I attend college. My mother made sure I could also clean house, raise babies, and live frugally. I learned some of her lessons better than others.

My parents were from the part of Appalachia where the only occupations available to them were farming, the coal mines, or joining the military. My dad joined the military. He volunteered to serve in the Vietnam war. He eventually made a career out of the military, and to a little kid - all this means is that daddy isn't home - a lot. My dad celebrated my birthday with me twice. Once was during a move across country. They forgot to get me a birthday present, so they stopped at a Kmart and bought me a blue school satchel with silver clasps and some pencils. As a grown up, I understand the craziness that happens with a move from Virginia to California with a limited budget and four kids in tow. As a little kid - I felt forgotten. This is important because I often felt forgotten or not wanted.

When I was little, my older cousins molested me. I remember them saying what they were doing was OK, "because this is what grownups do when they love each other." I believed them. I believed that I had to do what they wanted, if I wanted them to love me. This is important because it shaped all my relationships with men. I would often put up with abuse or neglect or shame, because I was scared of not being loved if I objected. I was scared of being abandoned if I said, "No. Stop. What you are doing is not OK."

About a year after the molestations started, they stopped. I had learned to stuff my feelings down with food. I had started getting fat. My cousins didn't want sex with fat girls, so they left me alone. Unfortunately, I had already learned that fat girls are invisible in our society. No one sees them, and no one notices them, and they are generally left alone - except for the bouts of teasing. For me, the bouts of teasing, and the crushing loneliness were better than being noticed by men. I had learned to hide in my burqa of fat. This is important because my self-compassion was crushed, and I thought I deserved to be treated with abuse. This impacted my health care decisions, my mate selections, and even how I parented my child.

My son is the most important thing to ever happen in my life. He lifted the veil on my burqa. My son was born to a 14-year old girl addicted to street drugs. I was told he would never walk or talk, and that I should put him in an institution - that he was only going to cause me pain. I remember coming home from the doctor's office and really REALLY wishing I had told the patronizing asshole of a doctor to fuck off. I have spent the time since then proving the fucker wrong. This is important because for the first time in my life, I had someone other than myself to fight for. I learned compassion and empathy, because my son needed it more than other kids. I learned that rocking the social boat was necessary, because my son needed unconventional