Journeying Inward
Wailuku, HI: I was two years old when we left. Too young to remember the clear water, ocean breezes, fruit trees and my White godmother, Michelle. Before I arrived earthside, my parents lived on the island of Maui for 13 years. It was my fathers’ favorite place to be. This was ‘home’ in a way that my roots will always be connected to that land, but not in a way that’s familiar. I wonder if I were to return to Maui, if my disdain for the island would dissipate. For some reason, hearing stories of how beautiful it was, the hobbies my parents used to partake in, having a godmother that I never got the chance to know, and the closeness I used to have with my father, stirred up a sense of jealousy within me. It was a past that I wasn’t a part of and didn’t recall. As beautiful as our surroundings were, I would soon learn the hell that a Black man from Memphis had caused before and after my arrival-- even in such “paradise”. This was the only time where I’d known true peace.
Memphis, TN: My time in Memphis is a part of my fondest memories. My neighborhood was full of grassy hills and the sidewalks I (frequently) traveled, either by foot, bike, roller skates, or my Barbie Jeep. They seemed boundless. I remember being a joyful and carefree child. Being empty pocketed every single day for the ice cream truck, I was too busy living in the moment. I had to run home to ask for a dollar, and make it back in time to decide between the Tweety Bird or the Strawberry Shortcake ice cream bar. When life was as simple as choosing between which sugary sweet would satisfy my sweet tooth. Or maybe it was choosing which snack to choose from the various people selling candy out of their homes. I will always remember my first ever best friend, Veronica, from Czechoslovakia who had blue eyes and blonde hair. She was ready to play as soon as I opened my eyes. I woke up each morning, went outside and didn’t come home until the street lights came on. The pavement of The Trails’ Apartments were the streets I’d known. The streets that are still home to me.
Looking back, I wonder if I, without mentally noting it, was trying to escape the rumbles of thunder that roared amongst the walls of my physical home. The ages between five to nine were my happiest years, but in hindsight, I can still feel the fear of booming voices, screaming, and weeping. Besides the mental break that came from playing outside, my older friends created a burned CD of all the songs the kids were listening to back in the 2000s. Hip-Hop, Rap and R&B would later become my saving grace. I had made a home out of being on those sidewalks. Earth was my mother, my foundation. I named my hundreds of baby dolls with natural names such as tree branch and river. I carried myself, with the help of my childhood friends and God (without fully understanding Him). I created the home I needed.
Oxon Hill, MD: I was nine years old when we left Memphis to come here with my older sister and her son, my nephew, who was also nine. We left my father behind and gained peace for about 7 months before he came to “fix” his family. I felt the same as I did in Memphis, playing with the kids outside of the apartment building all day. I loved being in school and even better, I was surrounded by melanin in Oxon Hill. My teacher, Ms. Silvels, was a beautiful Black woman who graciously bought me tickets to my first baseball game. It was in those moments that I was being poured into by someone outside of my household that made me feel like everything was okay; that there is always some assistance, a guide, even an angel,that appears when I need them the most. Besides the inner peace I gained in my father’s absence, I was also able to experience closeness with my extended family. I would daydream what it would be like to sit around the table and have dinner, to actually have relationships with my numerous aunties, uncles, and cousins. I was so happy to be in communion with them. To experience them for myself. Unfortunately, this was the last period of time that I’d build with them like this again. I was so close to having that familial experience that met my expectations that was shown through cartoons on PBS and various sitcoms, but it was short-lived.
Hotel Stays, VA: Kids have to make the most out of the foundation they’re given. Having to take the pieces of happiness they are offered and make it last(as long as they can). The days of staying at a hotel the summer before my 4th grade year was the loneliest period of my life. Looking back, it showed me how temporary things are. People don’t usually have these extended stays at hotels, so I couldn’t be distracted by playing outside with other kids everyday. There was, however, a young boy and his mother who stayed a few doors down, another angel, who helped me through my time of need. We played video games together and even went to see Spiderman 2 in a Georgetown D.C. theatre. We had only spent a few days together before he had to leave. My parents had some type of altercation and my mom left too. I had been disconnected from her for a little while, likely due to her going through the motions of leaving an abusive space and jumping right back into it. I no longer respected my father and my mother was gone. I felt extremely isolated. Taking matters into my own hands, I called her sister to ask where she was. She said she wasn’t around, to keep from my father finding out, but she was there. Thank God my mom called back and arrived back at the hotel. She always came to get me. Another realization: my home is where my mom is. From then on, we moved onto what would be the most trying times of my youth.
Alexandria, VA: Bitter adolescence. “My parents did just well enough so that I could grow up poor around White people” - Dave Chappelle. This sums up my 4th through 6th grade years perfectly. I noticed a difference between myself and my classmates. Their outfits never repeated. Mine did and then some. I had to finesse taking last season’s clothes into the new season. I constantly refreshed my wardrobe with what I had. When I first began the 4th grade, we still lived in the hotel and I was being called “hotel girl” by our real estate agents’ daughter. Well of course, right?
The more we settled into White spaces, the more my father would remind me that I’m not fully Black. He loves to say he’s from the Black Foot tribe of the Natives. Who knows really. I have no way of knowing whether my great great parents were full or half Native American. He had such resentment towards his upbringing that it could’ve been delusion. I suffered the consequences of his resentment that caused BET to end up on parental control. I had my CD player taken, my radio taken, and most of the music channels were added to the block list. Would it be understandable if he was taking into account the adult images/language I would hear/see? Maybe. But this was about erasing a part of my identity. Thankfully, my only rebellion was sneaking my CD player into my room at night. This was yet another form of a home I had to create.
I couldn’t express myself in the way that I wanted. I was a lot thinner back then and the kids sure had a way of letting me know that from 7am-2pm. Who I was as a human being was reduced to my weight. The bullying would carry onto 7th grade. By then, I had become pretty timid. Scared to speak up. My identity, as I was becoming older, became more important to me, but I was surrounded by kids who didn’t see me for anything other than my stature and off-brand apparel. Maybe I saw myself that way too-- reflection or influence? Each year I would find another part of my body to be obsessed with, whether that was my weight, my hairiness, or my acne prone skin. I focused on improving parts of my body that would allow me to feel more confident, but what I really hoped for was that it would make my peers more comfortable. This time period was where I needed Hip Hop, Rap, and R&B the most. Music is what got me through. In 10th grade, I stood up to my father in the midst of his verbal abuse towards my mom. I realized the ways in which I was outgrowing certain friendships and letting go of expectations of others, lessons I learned in my Junior & Senior years of high school. I would continue to uncover more layers of myself and find my unique voice in the next few years.
Finding True Home: Starting my undergrad program at Trinity Washington in D.C. was a breath of fresh air. At this point, my mom and I had been husband and father free for two years and I decided to live on campus for the first semester. I was able to build a new foundation for myself, a life with an empowered sense of self, one with possibilities. Leaving Trinity and attending Marymount University posed different challenges. I decided not to live on campus due to the expense and close proximity to the campus. As a Fashion Merchandising major, I experienced imposter syndrome being around fashionistas who (I assumed) had more than I had, thus, were able to express themselves more fully. The campus was very diverse, which was nice, but I still felt like I had to keep up. This was also a time of back to back news of police brutality. Travyon Martin’s death in 2012 was the start of my awareness of what it means to be Black in America. The deaths of Alton Sterling on June 5th, 2016 and Philando Castille the very next day shook me to my core. After arriving at a more diverse, but still predominantly White institution, I was still coming to know that others saw Black people as...others. I started to really see color, I had to. By that time, I was 20 years old and just settling into yet another new beginning while my relationship to relating with others in a way that brought about compassionate understanding was starting to change.
In May of 2017 I did the big chop. My Instagram caption was, “Cut my hair yesterday and bought myself flowers as a ‘thank you for finally liberating yourself’ gift.” That was a turning point in my life. I was living life more authentically and took more risks. It was empowering, however, I didn’t show my cut for a few days. I was anxious about the reaction from future employers after college. Was my hair too “nappy”? “Did I look too “Black”? Although these thoughts came up, this was the first step back to myself. I was becoming the woman I was meant to become.
True Home: Graduating college in 2018, left me on a winding path of trying out different jobs and finding my purpose. This transition stage was major. I wasn’t financially ready to move to LA to follow my fashion dreams, so I ended up going from an education contract job, back to retail, to food service, and then back to school for IT. With each heartbreak, disappointment, and career change, I was removing layers of who I thought I was and who I thought I should be, and came home to myself. Life is a ride. One thing that makes the difference is the people you have to ride with you. Your friends, often a reflection of you, are guideposts; they’re here to help you remember.
When I was younger, I used to pray to God that my family would get back together and that we would be close. I wanted the white picket fence, to sit at a dinner table, take family vacations, and visit both sides of the family on holidays-- a “traditional” family. Eventually, I stopped praying when I realized that’s just not the family I was born into. Here’s the thing, your blood family isn’t always your soul family and I’ve found that with the women I’ve come to know. I’ve never known a family like this. I’ve never known sisterhood like this. THIS family sits in sister circles, our dinner table is usually at Busboys & Poets, our white picket fence is the peace and understanding we give, the vacation is whenever we’re near each other, and the visits from my friends’ babies are brighter than any holiday. What a blessing to have found my tribe.
I’ve found home by journeying inward. I’ve ended up in many places physically, but the spiritual awareness, the inner awakening, was the real journey. Taking a trip deeper into myself caused me to ask myself where my center is. I know parts of my identity, I am a Black woman; Music helps to set me free; Physically, my home will always be where my mother is; and my loved ones are reminders of what love is-- they reflect my power when I feel powerless, they reflect limitless possibilities, they reflect compassion, kindness, and unconditional love. All in all, at my core, I am a being with a purpose. I am here to show up how the divine wants me to show up in this lifetime. I am the center of my universe and home is where I Am.
Kaya Hampton
I am a Transformation Coach, Breathwork Facilitator, and Writer with a B.A. in Fashion Merchandising from Alexandria, VA.