A Quote by Michael Franti
I was adopted when I was a baby. My mother carried me for nine months and she held me for one hour, and didn't see me again.
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It moves one's heart to think: Nine months before I was born there was a woman who loved me deeply. She did not know what I was going to be like, but she loved me because she carried me in her womb.
My mother carried me for 10 months. I asked her 'Mother, you had an extra month, why you didn't make me a beautiful face?' and mother told me, 'My son, I was busy making your beautiful hands and heart.'
Don't be hard on yourself! You just had a baby. It took nine months to get there, and I believe it takes nine months to get back. For me, I really watched what I ate and exercised as much as I could with three kids.
I never asked my mother where babies came from but I remember clearly the day she volunteered the information....my mother called me to set the table for dinner. She sat me down in the kitchen, and under the classic caveat of 'loving each other very, very much,' explained that when a man and a woman hug tightly, the man plants a seed in the woman. The seed grows into a baby. Then she sent me to the pantry to get placemats. As a direct result of this conversation, I wouldn't hug my father for two months.
I was raised by my great-great aunt. I was adopted within our family. My mother had me when she was, I think, 15, 16. They tried to get her to have an abortion and she refused. So, my 'mama' adopted me, which was really her great aunt, which was really my great-great aunt, who was named Viola Dickerson. I was told that my mother was my sister.
When people see me on TV, they become very happy because they don't have to interact with me. When they start interacting with me, they ask me questions like I'm a baby or treat me like I'm a baby and hold me like I'm a baby, and that's what they do wrong, really.
When my father died, I was nine or 10, and my mother was like a dad and a mom to me. She raised me and supported me when I came to the U.S.
My mother tried to kill me when I was a baby. She denied it. She said she thought the plastic bag would keep me fresh.
Sam dropped me off. When she was too far away to see me, I started to cry again. Because she was my friend again. And that was enough for me.
When I was a child and I was upset about something, my mother was not capable of containing that emotion, of letting me be upset but reassuring me, of just being with me in a calming way. She always got in a flap, so I not only had my own baby panics, fears and terrors to deal with, but I had to cope with hers, too. Eventually I taught myself to remain calm when I was panicked, in order not to upset her. In a way, she had managed to put me in charge of her. At 18 months old, I was doing the parenting.
Thank you Mama for the nine months you carried me through/…No one knows the pressure you bear a just only you.
Becoming a mother really put me in touch with not just my mortality but also my baby's mortality. You spent nine months working on this thing, and it's finally there, and the first thing you think about is, 'I don't want my child to die.'
My mother passed away when I was 19. She always made me feel confident, and I've carried that feeling with me my entire life. It's helped me in this industry, where people are sizing up your looks.
When I knew I couldn't suffer another moment of pain, and tears fell on my bloody bindings, my mother spoke softly into my ear, encouraging me to go one more hour, one more day, one more week, reminding me of the rewards I would have if I carried on a little longer. In this way, she taught me how to endure — not just the physical trials of footbinding and childbearing but the more torturous pain of the heart, mind, and soul.
When her hands reached out and poured the tea, it was as if she also poured something into me while I sat there sweating in my cab. It was like she held a string and pulled on it just slightly to open me up. She got in, put a piece of herself inside me, and left again.
I lost my first fight at the Boys Club at 11 years old and quit the team. My mother told me I had to go back because she didn't raise no quitter. I lost a second fight and quit again and still my mother wouldn't let me. She made me go back and try again.
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