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like, “No, she’s crazy.” I didn’t know to call it mental illness. I just said, “She’s crazy.” And other people would confirm it to me, thinking it was funny. And there was nothing funny about it. There’s nothing funny about mental illness.

When you were a child, did you feel, like, rejected by her?

Yes, absolutely, from day one.

From the day you could remember her?

From the day I could remember her, I felt rejected by her. From her leaving me in the home. From her treating me differently from my other siblings. For her not taking me back. People would always ask me, “Why would you want to go back?”

That’s the crazy dynamics that exist with the abuser and the person being abused — especially a child and their parent. You want your parent to love you. You want your parent to want you. Then after a while, after they beat you down so much, you want them even more. That’s very, very difficult for people to understand. But it is what it is. And it was very true for me.

After you leave the convent, you go to a group home, and you’re actually excited about that. You write about how you sort of got this moral code from that. Was there a silver lining to being in the system, as you describe it in the book?

Yes. You know, when you talk about the issues of child abuse, and the foster care system, and being a ward of the state, policy means everything.

What do you mean?

Policy means everything. There were policy changes that the nuns couldn’t hit us anymore. There were policy changes that allowed us to get a job, because upstate there was so much prejudice. If I went to go get a job, the only job that I could get was, “Well, you could rake leaves in front [of] my lawn.” The [Comprehensive Employment and Training Act] Program with President [Jimmy] Carter allowed me to have a real job, and get a real paycheck, at the age of 12, 13, 14. That’s fantastic.

When we were going to the group home, they told us, “All of these things are going to be available to you.” I was beyond excited. I was the most excited that there wasn’t going to be a damn nun around. I was, “Yay! God bless America,” three times, you know? And, you know, that was subsidized by the state of New York.

And it worked for you?

And it worked. It gave me a fighting chance. Yes, I was a child of poverty. I was a child of the system. When I went to go live back with my family in Brooklyn, I was a child of welfare. I was a child, you know, of this or that. And certain policies allowed me to better myself, because I wanted better, and I knew I was better. It’s not like we’re like, “Oh, poor pity me. Can I have a handout?” It’s like, “No, can you just help me a little bit? And I will do the hard work.”

Right.

That’s what I mean about policy is fantastic.

Do you think that there are enough social safety nets today, and those same things for children that might be in similar situations? Or do you think that’s somewhat being disassembled?

It has somewhat been disassembled. I mean, here we are in a group home, upstate New York, right next to the IBM Country Club Estates. Not too shabby, you know? I am privy to the middle- to upper-middle-class lifestyle.

Is that here today? No. There’s so many cutbacks. What child today can go get a job that’s subsidized by the government — and they can have a paycheck and learn how to have their own bank account, and so on? It’s not there.

What has gotten better is child protection laws. That has gotten better. What hasn’t gotten better is certain rights of the child. For instance, I see so many children because of bad relationships, because of hurt feelings, and scorned lovers being ripped away from their parents, or one parent, you know, becoming vindictive towards the other, and the child is in the middle. Then they get thrown in the system, and then they’re lost. That kind of thing has not gotten better. I think it actually has gotten a little bit worse.

What shows do you like?

Actually, I watch a lot of boxing. It’s a metaphor for life. Boxing, the sweet science, is to hit and not get hit. I was doing that from day one.

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Sometimes you would physically fight back?

Yes. Well, I had to physically fight back or else, you know, my ass was going to get kicked. And it did, a lot. And I got tired of it, so I learned how to box. I learned how to fight.

You became a choreographer. You started by choreographing Bobby Brown, which is huge.

It’s huge. I was so excited. I knew it was going to be big.

How did that even happen? Did you have formal dance training? Or was it just all those nights that you described clubbing with your cousins?

It’s the nuns.

The nuns?

The nuns.

The nuns helped you with your choreography?

I have to give them credit because they put me in tap. They told me I had talent. I was the lead bunny in the Easter parade.

You proceeded to work with every major name in hip-hop at that time. Were you easily accepted into that world? Or was it intimidating?

No. It wasn’t intimidating to me, it was very frustrating. The misogyny was disgusting. The way they perceived women, treated women was appalling, and probably is still appalling. But I refused to be denied. I was like, “Excuse me, those are your issues. You got to get over it, because I want to get paid, and I want to do this dance number. And I want to work with this person, so I’m going to go for it.”

What’s interesting, I didn’t know until I read your book, is that acting and choreographing sort of came by accident. You were in college, you were a biochemistry major. Do you ever look back and think you chose the wrong route? Or is this where you’re supposed to be?

This is where I am supposed to be. This was supposed to happen. And yet I still have fantasies of finishing my degree. I’m still a nerd.

At the end of your memoir, it becomes really clear that another thing you want is to sort of set the record straight. This is your story.

Yes.

What else do you want this book to accomplish?

I want it to say many things. I think, first and foremost, to say that there’s a certain group of people here in the United States that are thought [of] as less than, just because they were born into poverty. And it’s not right, and it’s not fair, and it’s not true. I want those people to understand that they need to push through all of that, push through all their fears, and all their doubts, and step into their greatness and claim it. Because in this country, you have that right.

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Source: america.aljazeera.com