We’ve all been there. At the point where we’re fed up. When someone else is gaslighting you, trying to convince you that you should be grateful for a crappy situation that drains your soul. And we don’t say anything back, because we need that paycheck. The person bullying or intimidating us is well-connected, or has access to great opportunities that could help us down the road. Or this person holds some pretty devastating power or influence, and we can’t afford to be on their bad side.
At what point do we stand up, and declare, “Enough?”
Sometimes, never. We never feel empowered enough to leave relationships, a job, a friendship, our neighborhoods, or assert ourselves against a powerful influence or foe. No matter how right we may be, or how just our cause or complaints against them, the prospect of failure or being destroyed outweighs our suffering.
But there are those who plan and work behind the scenes to build up another source of power for ourselves. We build up another stream of income with a side hustle. Or we network to gather new connections, building different resources to come to our aid. We quietly nurture our real dreams and pour water on our seeds as we grow them. We find allies to join us, like minds, who relate to us and who remind us we’re not crazy.
If this has been you, or your journey, you are not alone. Even if you’ve screwed up royally and done some things you’re not proud of, or made mistakes that set you back (and Lord knows we all have), reclaim your power. Give yourself permission to grow, take responsibility and move on. But don’t keep punishing yourself or believing you’re unworthy.
We don’t have to live our whole lives cowering or cringing, or denying our true selves, or the talent and gifts we have inside us.
With that said, enjoy this excerpt from Hope Evolved.
Hope fed everyone half-truths, and a few lies – the police, her parents, the neighbors and church folk.
“Did you know those guys in that car?” No.
“How did you do all that?” A science project I had been working on to protect the community.
“Did you intend to shut off their car?” Yes, but I wasn’t sure it was going to work.
“Did you intend to stop the bullets?” Yes, but I wasn’t sure about that either.
“How did you make all that stuff fly around in the air?” Electricity was for the car. The stuff flying around was an accident; that part just happened.
“Were you expecting a driveby shooting to happen tonight?” No. I had my project set up outside to demonstrate it for the church.
What else was Hope supposed to say? That she had infiltrated the organization of one of the most notorious gangbangers in the state, was building him a weaponized car, had full access to his private text messages, emails, banking and private information as well as that of his associates, and she had illegally connected a machine to the train tracks to harvest electricity? No.
The next day was Sunday, and from her spot in her room being grounded, Hope overheard her parents’ conversations across the hall in their bedroom. Behind their closed door, between themselves, with her stepfathers’ relatives who called, and with their friends. No, you’re wrong. This is our child. She ain’ some kinda hero. I don’t care what everybody sayin’. It was a stupid thing to do and she lucky she wasn’t killed. Then, in another conversation, Hope heard, We’re not doin’ that, man. No! We gon’ figure this out like grown men. We ain’t punks. Ain’ no li’l kid gon’ be tellin’ us what to do.
Those phone conversations were the only indication of what was happening outside Hope’s room. Banned from her laptop, using the phone, watching television, and going out to the shed, she couldn’t talk to anybody except her grandmother. She especially could not talk to Mr. Lew. From her bedroom window on the side of the house, if she cranked her neck, she could see a tiny bit of the street, where news vans and camera crews hovered. Kids came from the neighborhood to shoot video of her house with their cell phones. How would her parents explain their wooden fence smashed to the ground? Hope’s mother still didn’t know that Bam ran over it because of Hope.
In fact, as far as Bam, Hope rested a little easier. Since there were so many spectators hovering, she wasn’t too worried about him doing a driveby, for now anyway.
“Bring me that box. Give me all that electrical mess you got,” Mama demanded. “And I mean all of it.” Hope handed Mama the super box that Mr. Lew had given her, and tapped in the code. As soon as it snapped open, her mother jerked the lid up and yanked out every little device Hope had hidden inside it. “Ain’ got no business playin’ around wit electricity anyway.”
While her mother worried about Hope becoming an “out of control” child, Hope worried about more important things. She desperately wanted to talk with Gracie and Eti, to know what Ryan had found out, to learn from Li’l Jay what Bam Bam’s camp would do next. She couldn’t stop fidgeting to focus on her algebra equations. After a long, empty morning of staring at homework and trying to entertain herself, she heard voices in the front of the house. Had Mama finally agreed to let in media crews? There was a knock at Hope’s door.
Chief Bailey. He wasn’t alone. Right behind him walked in a very pretty lady in a black police uniform, with her brown hair slicked back in a tight bun.
“Hello there, uh, Hope. So I see we meet again,” the Chief said staring at her with those black button eyes in his round, cherry-colored face. He looked at her in that uncomfortable way that made her squirm. “Uh, Detective Todd and I just have a few questions for ya. Alright?”
“Okay.”
“You told police last night that you used some electricity to shut off that car. Can we get a look at that equipment you had on, and check it out?” he asked.
Hope pulled out her gloves. But the night before, she had taken off her bodysuit before leaving the church, and slipped it to Mr. Lew.
“So this is all you used, huh?” Chief Bailey asked.
“Yes,” she lied.
“Nothin’ else?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
When Hope looked up, the round, crimson white man stared right at her, through her, like he knew she wasn’t telling the truth.
“I’m sure.”
“So you tellin’ me these two electric gloves here got enough electricity to shut down a whole car?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And to do all that stuff we saw on the videos? Including stopping bullets?”
“Why? You jealous?”
“Hope Dianna Casey, don’t make me come in there!” her mother yelled from her position hovering in the hallway, right near the door.
Hope knew any answer she gave would not help her. If she told him about the suit, he would take it. If she didn’t tell him about the suit, she’d be in a lot of trouble for lying.
Chief Bailey sighed, shifted his weight and put his hand on his hip. “Now Hope, you know it’s a crime to lie to a police officer, right? You could get in a lot of trouble for doing that.”
Hope watched a few particles escape from him. They were dark, steely gray and purplish, with jagged edges. This time, they did not float closer to her or enlarge, so she could not identify the images they held.
“Are you looking at me for a crime?” Hope stared back at him. “Because I guess if you’re going to talk to me some more, and you think I did something wrong, shouldn’t I have a lawyer or something?”
At this point, Detective Todd stepped forward and dropped down to a squat. “Hi there, Hope, I know this must all be real weird for ya. You were just steppin’ up, doin’ the right thing, and we sure are proud of ya for that. It’s rare we ever see a young lady like yourself who’s so bright. You got all kinds of news people outside waitin’ to talk to ya. You’re goin’ to be a little superstar. And we really, really could use your help. We’d really like you to help us understand what happened last night.”
“What I’d like to know is why you’re here questioning me instead of out there getting the bad guys. I’ve never shot anybody,” Hope noted.
Detective Todd’s lips formed a fake smile. “You’re absolutely right. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take these gloves with me and look at them.”
“No, I’m not comfortable with that,” Hope said.
“Ma’am, you can take them. It’s fine. She doesn’t need them,” Mama interjected, giving Hope a stern glare.
Hope cut her eyes away from Mama. “They don’t belong to her. She didn’t make them. I did. I’ve never used them to hurt anybody…”
Mama rushed past the officers into Hope’s room and grabbed Hope’s chin with her strong, lean fingers and pushed her face just two inches from Hope’s. Gripping Hope’s chin tight and shaking it violently, Mama yelled, “You are not grown! You don’t tell me or anybody else anything! You don’t speak to any grown person that way!”
From the bottom of Hope’s throat, hot tears rolled upward and pressed out of her eyes, sliding down her cheeks. “That man is not going to help me.” Hope turned from Mama again, and looked at the chief. “My things are not yours. My things are not my mother’s. If you take my inventions, I will find the best lawyer in the world to get them back,” Hope muttered through clenched teeth, even as her voice quaked and her heart pounded.
Mama let go of Hope’s chin, flinging it backward. “I’ll deal with you when our company leaves.”
Still, the Detective laid Hope’s gloves back in the box.
Chief Bailey spoke again. “Ya know what I’m curious about, Hope? I saw the video from that lunch fight the other day at school. And you know what I noticed? The way you made them tools and thangs fly around last night, is the same way I saw stuff flyin’ around you in the school video. Now you told Principal Kagan you weren’t wearin’ anything last time, and you’re telling me you weren’t wearin’ anything this time. But yet, this phenomenon only happens when you’re around. That leads me to believe you’re illegally makin’ weapons. For that, I can go to a judge and get a warrant to search your house. Now… I don’t wanna have to do that. But I can, whether you got a lawyer or not. So before I walk out that door, are you sure there’s nothin’ else you wanna tell me?”
“I really don’t see why you can’t just tell me ‘thank you’ for doing your job.”