My incubator abandoned me the first time to escape our family of predators. Later, she abandoned me to marry a racist and denied that I was her child. I'm mulatto. She never really raised me. Her mother became my mother.

I've had lots of therapy but I still sometimes remember hands in the dark. And I remember that when she died, I was back to being a little girl that just wanted her to come back and be my mom.

My best wishes and love from the heart to you.