My Second Mother
My upbringing was in no way,shape,or form conventional. Born to white middle-class aprents who were forced to work in order to free themselves from debt, I was raised by a woman named Judith Mohammed until I reached the age of ten. My parents were still involved, still saw me on weekly occasions, but the woman who deserves most of the credit is Judith, who I call GiGi. GiGi is from Trinidad and Tobago and entered into a conservative white household. Although my father will never admit it, he owes his family’s success to GiGi. Without her there isn’t a family. I have her to thank as well, without her, and one other woman in my life, I would have likely adopted my father’s (what he calls a ”traditionally southern”) view of things. This is the woman who has been there to witness my first steps, my first words, and my first day of school. She is my mother and I love her. What does that make me?
