I was a tomboy as a kid. I liked to ride bicycles and jump in the water. There were ten of us, three girls and seven boys. One of the boys dies of pneumonia when he was ten months old. I’ve been raped by my own brother when I was 13. I’ll be 54 in December, and it still bothers me. I was ashamed at first, I’m not ashamed no more. He calls me, but I don’t want to hear his voice. I told him I’d never forget. I told him ‘I’m your baby sister, you’re supposed to be my king.’

I was doing really well in my twenties, until I started doing drugs. I was working, doing childcare, helping disabled people, cooking. Then I got into crack through a friend. In the beginning, druggies mean no harm, but you get to the point where you don’t care. It’s been over thirty years now. I was getting too old, I had to stop. The stuff I did, it was so nasty. It was not even dope no more. You waste your money and you ain’t getting nothing.