Warning: this story is about child abuse
It was 1983 and I had just watched a bootleg VHS copy of Wild Style at my friend Chad's house. We were just getting into hip hop around that time. I was already familiar with break dancing, graffiti and hip hop music. I just didn't realize it was all connected until I saw the movie, which was mind blowing as a kid who was fascinated with the culture.
We had some fresh new fashion trends coming out from hip hop. One of the new trends I loved were those shiny nylon, zippers everywhere, badass breakdancing parachute pants. Loved the red, the grey, and sleek black ones but blue was the raddest color of them all.
My family was poor but I was desperate to get a pair. I hounded my mom non-stop for a year to get some. Finally, in the spring of the following year, I got a pair of blue ones that had a million zippers on it. These were K-Mart knock offs so the zippers had pseudo stitched pockets on them but you couldn't tell they were fake so I didn't care. I couldn't wait for the next day, I was gonna rock these parachute pants forever.
The next day came, I was up early and had breakfast before anyone else in the house. Put on my favorite t-shirt that was blue with neon yellow and neon orange boom boxes on it. It was the perfect shirt for the parachute pants. Only problem was I didn't have any sneakers. The only shoes I could wear were some lame ass penny loafers. I knew that I would be facing some extra shit from the kids for it but I didn't give a fuck. I had these rad ass parachute pants and I was going to rock them.
As soon as I walked into class, the kids tore me up. I was pretty goofy looking with the loafers on. One of the other kids who I talked to stood up and tried to get them to back off but they weren't having it. He slinked back into his chair and got lost in his comic, pretending it never happened. My only reprieve was when the teacher came in and told them to quiet down. Took a lot of shit from kids all day long, with lunch and recess being the most brutal until gym class but I didn't care because I felt awesome in my new pants.
Gym class came around. I forgot about how slick these loafers would on the floor of the gym. I debated about running barefoot this time but wasn't sure if the gym teacher would allow it so I stayed in the loafers. I got through the first relay without much issues. Shortly after the second relay started, the kid on the other relay side next to me kicked my foot out from behind me causing me to slide. I lost control and ended up sliding across the floor on my knees.
A few of the kids were having a good laugh as I was getting up, when I realized my knees were on fire. I looked down and saw my bare knees with burn marks from sliding. I had two big ass holes in my pants because the nylon melted while sliding on the waxed wood floor. I was devastated and very sad.
Class was almost over, so I went back to the locker rooms, grabbed my shit, and dipped out the back door. My half hour walk home turned into an hour. No one else would be home until 5 and I needed time to think about what to do, hoping some how that I don't get my ass beat from my father over this.
When I got home, I quickly changed. I decided to ball up my pants and throw them in the outside garbage under some trash. I opened up the trash lid to realize the trash man just came on Monday, the day before, so the can was empty. I had the genius idea to throw the pants in there and pull some weeds and yard debris to cover the pants up. My hopes were that no one would notice and I would never speak of those pants again.
My mother came home first. She walked in, called for me and set the pants on the table, asking about what happened. She told me she was throwing some trash away when she noticed the pants in the can. I told my mother that I tripped at school, that it was an accident. I thought that sounded better than me telling the truth because I knew she was going to tell my father and didn't want to get ridiculed about how it's my fault I get bullied. My mother always sold me out, knowing damn well what would happen when my father came home. I was hoping this time she'd take pity on me and leave this between us. I was wrong.
We were just sitting down at the table when my father came home from work. He was in an extra shitty mood, which was typical. My parents bantered back and forth about my dad's business and his bullshit, then it turned into an argument. My mother was notorious for diverting the abuse from her to me, it was an escape mechanism she dealt with from her own abusive father. She threw the pants on the table and told him "look at what your son did." Their argument instantly ended and I was now the target in my father's warpath.
The beatings would come and that excited my father. The first hit stung on my ass like something new. I had noticed that my father had folded the belt with the buckle out. The prong from the buckle had punctured my skin. I instantly felt a sharp pain and a trickle of blood going down my ass. The pointy part of the belt clasp impaled one of the sides of my butt. My father hit me a few more times, while my mother and brother fled the scene to their rooms crying because I had angered my father again. I had disrespected him by allowing the pants to get damaged when he spent his hard earned money on them.
I got about 6 or 7 licks that night. My ass was so raw, I didn't know what to do. No one would come to help me so I ran to my room and locked the door hoping the old man had had enough for the night and wouldn't break down the door for round two. My blue jeans were covered in blood, my ass hurt so bad I completely forgot about my knees. I changed clothes and put on about 5 pairs of underwear to catch the rest of the bleeding. Laid stomach down on my bed and cried until I fell asleep.
I awoke early the next day due to rolling over and feeling the pain. I stood in my room until I heard my father leave for work and sneaked off to school. When school started, I tried to sit down but I couldn't because it hurt too much. The teacher came in, informed me to sit down. I told her that I fell skateboarding and couldn't because I was in pain. She wasn't having it, so she sent me down to the principal office for discipline.
I tried explaining to the principal, who was a giant, ex-military mean ass motherfucker, that I had hurt myself skateboarding and couldn't sit down without it bothering me. I tried explaining to him that I could stand up, promising him I would be no problem in class. He wasn't having it and didn't believe me. He informed me that the students at his school will respect the rules and sit in their chairs when they are told to do so. So the 7 foot tall principal took out his wood paddle board with holes in it. He hit me twice, then stopped when he noticed I was bleeding. I never cried that hard in my entire life, the pain was so intense.
After he put the paddle away, he told his secretary to call my mother. Instead of apologizing, he suspended me for three days so I could heal and learn some respect. My mother picked me up and took me home. Neither one of my parents have said anything about the incident ever again.
"My Father's Belt" is my new art series where I will be exploring mental health, bullying, abuse, and depression. I've been working on this series for quite some time now, I'm currently finishing up the first few pieces. The series will be erratic with no cohesion, with the art being created on a variety of mediums in various sizes.
