I moved to Brooklyn Heights when I was 17. I was enrolled for the summer introduction course for the New York Conservatory for the Dramatic Arts until I started classes in the fall. This was the plan since I was ten years old. Showing up, suitcase in hand and a dream in my heart. The… Continue reading Anomaly
Growing up I always saw myself as a mother. Motherhood I felt, was an inevitable obligation and was just something that happened. At one point in my teen years I distinctly remember wanting at least 8 children. That number drastically dropped as years went on. I'm really good with small children. I started babysitting at… Continue reading Mother, May I?
"Today was a sad day. Even worse, it was an unexpectedly sad day. Sometimes I know it's going to be a sad day and I can at least try to prepare myself. Funerals on Tuesdays, the day after Christmas, and June 10 are all sad days. Today though, without warning, I realized my childhood was… Continue reading 2014
I have been called a variety of names in my life. My birth certificate says my name is Chanelle Davis. That's not my name. That name wasn't even chosen for me. When I was seven I learned to write out Chanelle in cursive. I loved it. I would start with the curve of the capital… Continue reading Identity
I was a very emotional kid. I was a people pleaser. I think this stemmed from being adopted - I think most adopted kids struggle with feeling unwanted - even the very fortunate ones like me who were adopted and chosen by amazing families. I worried about people liking me and would take it very… Continue reading The Art of Not Giving A F***k.
I moved out when I was 17. I was 21 when I moved back home with my parents. It lasted a crazy four months. I moved back because of a traumatic experience and my mental health was in serious need for restoration. In that time my mother made sure that I was healing and not… Continue reading “Adult”ISH
The color of my skin never before occurred to me until I wanted to be the pink Power Ranger at recess and was told I had to be the yellow ranger because the pink ranger was white. This confused me because although my ethnicity has always been somewhat ambiguous , I did not have the… Continue reading Discolored Recollections