Fareeda C. Mabry was a little girl born at Temple University Hospital to Jeanetta and Matthew Mabry, June 25th, 1978 at 5:30pm. Yet my recollection of becoming Fareeda Mabry the woman begins at age 7.When I look at my parents I see how opposites attract. My mother comes from a family rooted in entrepreneurship, she a student, later a Nursing Assistant and my father from the rougher side of the tracks…Richard Allen Projects, nicknamed “Brain”, because he was so intellectual, street wise and school wise,who later became a Chef.
Prior to my brother Matthew Mabry Jr and I being born and into the early 80’s my father became abusive mentally, spiritually and physically towards my mother. My mom left with no other choice, saving her soul and saving her children. I remember her dressing and grooming us extra special when we went to court with my father. It was a MAJOR offense to her to accuse her of not taking care of us.
Needless to say, the court granted my mother custody and we moved on and up like the Jeffersons. As a child, I never knew what asserting yourself meant, empowerment, struggle, women’s rights or poverty was until later on in life. Buying her a new home, and never looking back, only to watch her back from my fathers violent behaviors.
Although I have heard of him being physically abusive, I do not remember my father being directly physically towards my mother, I do remember him harassing her with the court system, over custody. I felt in my life, it was never about my brother and I, it was about control for him and he never really wanted custody of us.
As I matured, I never really got a chance to know my father completely. Yet, I know my father loves me. I never knew him as a man. That distance and disconnect is what hurt his character in my eyes. I see him as most men, challenged by emotions and struggling with his brokenness, selfishness, and control issues. My mother wanted only the best for us. Always has and always will. What mother doesn’t?
We were the first black people on the block. My mother got the best paints, fixings and trimmings on the house. It was her own...home. For myself, I made many friends at Olney Elementary which many I still remember and am still friends with today. Others I have sadly seen perish by the code of the streets, and there are others who I have seen their struggles, maturities, growth, learning lessons and life change for better or worse.
When we moved there, Olney as a neighborhood was predominately white. I spent almost 20 years in Olney, watching its transitions and demographic shifts. From a middle class Caucasian neighborhood to one mixed with Hispanics, Asians and African Americans. We became the target of racism many times; however we never let that deter us from living there. It adds to the layers of hurt and anger, yet never a deterrent. The very first time of being called a "nigger" as a child, you may not know what it is, yet you know its a hurtful word. There was a time when there was black paint thrown on the front of the house and my mother and I cleaned it off in the early morning. What was such an innocent place to live through the eyes of a child, became a harsh reality. As a child, its amazing when you find out, people really do not like certain people for the color of your skin. Everything in life is not "peaches and cream"...
I clearly remember my moms struggles as a single young African American mother of two. She has experienced abused, has fears of failing, yet still determined to survive for the sake of her children. As a kid you think all moms are like yours. I never saw any woman as dedicated to the well being of her children. So when people say you only get one mom, its true...appreciate her.
She taught us most importantly, how to survive in a cold world. It didn’t make a difference if my father was there; my mom became the Alpha and Omega, the mother and the father. She struggled and made sacrifices to make sure we had even when she didn't have. My mother is the backbone, always worrying over us. Her children were her life. She made sure my brother and I went to school, had food, clean clothes and basic utilities to survive. It wasn’t easy.
Times we went without heat, food or basic essentials. I’ve seen my mother cook a full meal consisting of meat, vegetables and a starch…Yet she would only eat the vegetables and starch and save the full course meal for my brother and me. I remember my mother boiling water for us to wash because our hot water tank had been busted and she could not afford a new one. Yet she made sure she always respected herself, we went to school, fed and clean. As a woman today, I can remember as a child seeing the pain in her eyes, yet her love for and from her children is what kept her going.
My father, he would relentlessly try to locate my mother although she never wanted to be located. He threatened her life, and vowed to kill her. Putting on a different face for us, so we as his children could not see the monster within. Children are very perceptive. And I know at that age, I couldn’t imagine for any woman…Running from and hating someone you once were madly in love with and to top it off, have children by. In my mother’s eyes, my father turned into a different individual. I always wonder if my relationship or lack thereof with my father has an effect on my relationships today with men.
I do not doubt his love. What I saw in my father was a conflicted, bitter, and controlling man. His anger stemmed from his loss of control. He did not realize that has been the best situation for us. I to this day know many of the issues of my father stemmed from lack of control of his own emotions, immaturity, fear of loss and insecurity. In order to remove the hurt, I had to look at my father as a man and not as my father to better know him as an individual and as a human being.
Although I love my father dearly, I had to understand him as a man, I believe was and still is broken emotionally and spiritually. My mom, taught me to be independent, industrial, determined, feminine, bossy, feisty, loving, caring, compassionate, sexy, motherly, and domesticated. I remember going to buy my first bra, and me talking to her about having sex or not. I must say, the safest place after school, was next to mom on the couch after homework, watching television waiting for dinner.
I’m blessed to have never been in foster care or in the system; my mother took care of us to the best of her ability. She thought of herself as weak at times, and despite the pain from life’s disappointments…she is the strongest woman I know.Always she was hard on us about homework and education. Her saying, “Education is the best to make you a success”…she never lied, the only knowledge that can hurt you, is the knowledge you do not have.
I want to thank my mother for her sacrifices, and her struggles. I am proud of her for taking her life in her own hands. I thank God that he allowed me to meet and know her while spending some of my most precious memories, experiences, and life lessons with her. I am proud to have her as an extention of me. My hurts, pains, loves and my life…I wouldn’t change for anything in the world. Because It made me "the Maverick" I am today. Im not afraid of hard work.
Please stay tuned as we move into the next chapter of my life. I am proud to be a boot strap kind of person...I know what hard work is. I like for people to relate to me as a human being and not some novelty. I never grew up rich or with some designer labeled last name.
I am Fareeda Mabry, from the people and for the people. I am writing this because I want people to know where I am coming from in order to understand where I am going.
Stay Tuned: Exposure: Memoirs of a Maverick Part II
Adolescent: " What seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise" O. Wilde
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