My Childhood Stories

Said I'd tell my own childhood story today, the memories that most clearly mark dysfunction, the things that would have made a mighty difference in my life.

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When I look back at my own past, asking about how my life might have been different, there are crucial events I've spoken of: the time I foiled bullies by stepping into traffic and daring them to come after me is one. That taught me that if you are willing to accept death, there is a power that shatters those who function from ego. That moment led me to a lifetime of martial training. What might I have been, had I not invested those thousands of hours to deal with fear? I could have put that energy into writing, or dance, or yoga. But I HAD to deal with that fear, or I would never, ever be able to "be respected by the men I respected, and desired by the women I desired."

What would have made the difference? Having my father in the home, I think. Someone I could speak to about fear, and gain wisdom about the truth: everyone feels fear. The ONLY difference is what they do with it, and what lies they tell themselves and others about it.

So I have to go deeper, earlier, into that wound. But doing that brings me to a real crossroads: the nexus of race and gender.

I've put countless thousands of hours into thinking about them, and again, I know myself well enough to know I'd have still investigated these things, and probably gone further than I have…because in some very real senses I was running a race with a refrigerator strapped to my back. People who think "well, your struggles made you stronger" don't seem the sort of people who express sympathy when struggles break people down. It is NOT that "what does not kill me makes me stronger." It is "that which doesn't kill me, that also doesn't exceed my body-mind's capacity to adjust and make a positive adaptation…makes me stronger."

So I can think of two primary memories that come back to me most often. One to do with race, the other with gender.

The first was race. First grade. The (white) teacher at Alta Loma elementary school divided the class into reading groups. I remember my white and Asian friends being sorted into one group, and I was sorted into the other, with the black kids (there may well have been a black GIRL in the other group). I laughed at them. Hah hah! I was in the smart group, neener neener neener.

Then…they had us read aloud. I was reading at a Jr. High school level, I’m sure. And they hustled me into the other group, with the whites and Asians. One of my white friends got shifted from that group back to the other. And…I got it. I understood. They had ASSUMED he was smarter, because of his skin. They had ASSUMED I was less intelligent, because of my skin.

And I realized right at that moment that all my life, I would have to work harder just to break even. When people to this day ask whether Affirmative Action doesn't diminish my accomplishment (not that I've ever benefitted from Affirmative Action to my knowledge) I can laugh in their face: they have no idea how much THEY have benefitted from it their whole lives, and to a degree I assume that if there are two people, one black and one white of similar accomplishment, I assume the black person is about 20% stronger and smarter, because of those headwinds.

That really knocked me back, and I doubt I've ever fully recovered. But then, there is no "Recovery" unless the problem ends, no healing until the knife is withdrawn from your flesh. I've worked around that all my life. It makes a difference.

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And again, had my father been in the home, and healthy and loving, he could have explained the world to me, and by his righteous example shown me how to navigate these waters. But we can step out of the racial aspect and just look at human maturation. I believe we are a combination of male and female energies, and without healthy examples of both, can either slide into the toxic or the inept and insufficient. Raised by my mother and sister, they loved me but could NOT model masculine energy for me, and I felt it right down to my toes, in the ways boys and girls treated me. I was a four-eyed, pot bellied little nerd, and they never let me forget it.

But the greatest memory I have, the most definitive one, might be after my parents divorced. I don't know how old I was. Maybe seven? And he hadn't been around a lot before then. I don't have memory of ever playing ball with him, or him helping me learn anything in school, or life. Mom never remarried, barely dated. But I do remember being about maybe eight, and a male guest was in the house. They were sitting on the couch, talking.

There was a love seat behind the couch, and I remember curling up on it like a little kitten. How old was I? I don't know, but too old for THAT, I can tell you. And I was hurting so badly. I wanted to be cute and helpless and adorable enough that he would reach back and stroke my hair and tell me he would be my Daddy. I remember that ache: didn't anyone want to be my daddy? Was I such a hideous, twisted thing that no one saw me, wanted to protect and nurture me..?

It was pitiable.

I'm not a natural warrior personality. I am a griot, and a healer and peacemaker. That's who I am. But those things are coming from the more Feminine space, as can be expected. In a natural, healthy tribe, I'd have been protected and honored. But I had no tribe, and was mocked and excluded by both the women I wished to spark with, and the men who would be my protectors, the warriors of my tribe who knew they could come to me for healing after the battle, or for songs and stories to contextualize reality and give meaning to their sacrifice.

So…martial arts. Over half a century of them, to create my own warrior tribe, INTERNALLY, that could protect my heart. All I wanted was to be loving and giving and a cheerful poet and storyteller…and the message I got was that the world would devalue me, destroy me (my mother once told me: "Steve, if you let white people know how smart you are…they will KILL you." If you want a simple and terrible explanation for my struggle with formal education, try that one).

I had no father, so I had to become my own father with no real idea how to do it. I "sacrificed my melanin on the altar of my testosterone" by reading every book about Conan, or Tarzan, or The Saint, or James Bond I could find. And ALL of them contained great insult on racial levels. I had to swallow that poison to get the vitamins I needed, even if the images were unrealistic at least they were SOMETHING to model and push against.

I know that the discussions I have with Jason are the conversations my father had with HIS father…but that he never had with me. The link was broken.

So…I look at the vast amount of energy I put into dealing with and understanding fear, finding my place in the world, having to reject the direct and unspoken perspectives of society about both race and gender, and find my own way. I turned over every flat rock I could find to see if there was any knowledge, were any experts, who could help me, and most doors were closed.

But I never stopped, because I was too frightened that if I couldn't find a way through the maze, the world would utterly crush me.

So…yes, I'm happy with the person I am. But I could have gotten to that place a lot faster. I didn’t' need all the pain and constant sense of threat and exclusion. I dealt with it, but would NEVER want my child to go through it. It was the path life gave me, and I've walked it. And now for the last maybe ten years I've been at the level I could have started at, and its made a massive difference. I am so grateful for the countless teachers who shared with me, and am committed to making the most of my life, and sharing what I've discovered so that others can heal more rapidly than I did.

The "Ancient Child" exercise arose from this work. Life is, in a real sense, simply traveling between the dreams and hopes of childhood and the wisdom of old age, one day at a time.

The most blessed of us simply travel that path: chop wood, carry water. I had to strip away everything I was taught, braid a new path from a dozen different disciplines, and then field-test it. And then….after all of that started working, and working well, be accused of having been privileged, or used as a weapon by racists to "prove" that "see, things aren't that bad. You made it, Steve."

I won't be used, I won't be intimidated, and I can't be threatened in any way most people understand. This is my life. I wish the barriers had been lower, but I got over them anyway.

The forces of hate and oppression, the people who mock the Three Gates or the notion of balance, those who wanted to sort me and mine into the "slow" group made a terrible mistake.

They didn’t destroy me. And now I see the game with frightening clarity.

And I'm coming for them.

Namaste

Steve