Washington, D.C. writer Mickey C. Fleming, a 33-year-old black gay man, was sitting in a friend's home one evening. Over a glass of Riunite wine, Fleming revealed his experiences as a foster care child. His friend, overwhelmed by what he had heard, suddenly exclaimed: "You have a great story to tell. You should write a book!" At first Fleming, lacking self-confidence, rebuffed the idea by saying: "I'm not a celebrity and I'm not good at that kind of thing." But after awhile he decided to take his friend's advice; he immediately began the arduous task of putting pen to paper. The result is his recently published autobiography, About Courage, a paperback original from the Los Angeles-based Holloway House. (It was one of five books nominated for a Lambda Literary Award in the Gay Men's Debut category.)
Fleming sees the book as his way of "exorcising personal demons." Those demons include sexual victimization by older boys at two foster care institutions and a deep-seated self-hatred stemming from a belief instilled in him by others that he was "a bad person, an evil person." Before writing the book, a friend told him that "it would be a good way to release all that anger and hostility. When I wrote the book I came to really see why I was angry and who I really am. In the process of writing," he continues, "I was able to get back at certain people." More importantly, Fleming says, "I wanted to educate people about what goes on in the child welfare system. Of course, I
didn't touch on half of the things that went on at Junior Village." (In 1973, a series of articles in the Washington Post brought about the closing of JV, writes Fleming, "because of an alleged history of abuse of the very children it was designed to help.")
Another goal of his is to reach out to those with a similar background of abuse. Among that group are gay youth; he hopes to inspire them "to believe in themselves."
Although he has been told that "a lot of changes have been made since I was a client of the system," some things remain the same. "I have talked to foster mothers, especially when I'm on a radio program. They call in with horror stories. A lot of it sounds very much the same as when I was there. One of the complaints is that the system doesn't put much money into taking care of the children. Another one is that often the children are taken out of one home and put into another many foster parents feel this is detrimental to the children's well-being. The children can't get fully grounded."
The one thing About Courage has done, other than dispel some of Mickey Fleming's anger, is to incite anger and stir up a little controversy. especially among family members who probably didn't like such revelations like the one about the time when two weeks after his so-called "illegitimate" birth in his grandfather's house in North Carolina, "Granddad removed the welcome mat" from under his daughter and her three children. "They are all upset because I'm telling the truth," declares Fleming, in a telephone interview. "But, of course, they want to live in a state of denial."
And some in the gay community are not happy either. "My story is not typical of most gay people. I came from an institutional background. As most people know, it is in such institutions as Junior Village where a lot of forced homosexual sex goes on. Someone else needs to write a book about homosexuality from just living a normal life, having a mother and a father. I can't write that kind of book; it wasn't my experience. I try to tell these people--'Don't get angry with me because I'm telling my story.' They say to me: 'People will read this book and think homosexuals are made that way.' I'm not even saying that's how I became a homosexual. All I'm saying is these are the things that happened to me. People who read the book carefully will see I had an attraction for men even before I was raped. I even enjoyed the fact that they were paying attention to me, hugging me and all that kind of stuff. When the penetration happened is when I didn't enjoy that."
Others, like Ma Banks, one of his former foster parents, "loved the book. She's been promoting it for me. She's got every person in her church to buy the book. She understands. She knows my story."
Meanwhile, Mickey Fleming is at work on his next book, a novel, that "will focus more on other characters that I didn't bring out too much in About Courage."
This article was originally published in Outlines (Chicago) in February 1990.
Showing posts with label Foster Care. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Foster Care. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Surviving The Trauma Of Foster Care
About Courage by Mickey C. Fleming (Holloway House, Paper)
In his autobiography, About Courage, Mickey C. Fleming, a black gay man from Washington, D.C., relates the story of the evening he sat in a friend's home and revealed, over a glass of Riunite wine, his childhood experiences while in foster care. His friend exclaimed: "You have a great story to tell. You should write a book!" Fleming, at first rebuffed the idea with the remark: "I'm not a celebrity."
It's true , 99 percent of the autobiographies and biographies published each year are by or about the famous. To be quite honest, if this book had not been sent to me for review, I probably would have given it scant, if any, attention. Not because it dealt with foster care--an important and timely subject--but because its author, an unknown, was dropped in our midst without any introduction. After all, it's asking a lot to expect people to plunk down $2.95, plus tax, to read the life story, or confessions, of someone you never heard of.
In fact, while reading About Courage, I kept wishing that Fleming, who spent virtually all of his childhood in foster care, had introduced himself in the pages of a magazine, say Essence magazine's annual men's issue, rather than in a 224-page book. Despite all of the ups and downs in his 33 years, there still isn't enough compelling material here to warrant a lengthy retelling. A 2,000-word magazine piece would have been more fitting. His life as an absurd, self-hating, confused, and rebellious gay adolescent isn't really all that remarkable. Aside from giving current foster kids the feeling that they too can rise above their situation as well as providing them with a resilient role model (he goes on to college, later landing a job as an electrical draftsman), About Courage otherwise doesn't offer any profound insights into the foster care system or the foster child. As a reader, it stirred no outrage in me. In fact, it would have been better if he had written about the Washington, D.C.-based orphanage, Junior Village, where he had spent some time as a child. (It was closed in 1973, after 26 years in existence, writes Fleming, "because of an alleged history of abuse of the very children it was designed to help.") All we're offered really is a succession of horror stories: his sexual victimization by the older boys at the orphanage, the on-the-job harassment of him by male co-workers because of his sexuality, his reunion with his mentally ill mother (strangely this episode is twice recounted--in Chapters 1 and 17, in almost identical words), his eviction from an apartment he shared with a resentful, irresponsible heterosexual couple who misuse the rent money he's given them.
Despite a few flaws in the book, it is clear that Mickey Fleming has writing talent. It will be interesting to see what his next book, if there is to be one, will be about. I hope it won't be a sequel. I also hope he'll use his own photo for the dust jacket and not a model's. If, in the words of one of the characters in the book, he and pop singer Prince "could pass for brothers," why the subterfuge?
This article was originally published in the Chicago-based gay and lesbian publication, Outlines (February 1990).
In his autobiography, About Courage, Mickey C. Fleming, a black gay man from Washington, D.C., relates the story of the evening he sat in a friend's home and revealed, over a glass of Riunite wine, his childhood experiences while in foster care. His friend exclaimed: "You have a great story to tell. You should write a book!" Fleming, at first rebuffed the idea with the remark: "I'm not a celebrity."
It's true , 99 percent of the autobiographies and biographies published each year are by or about the famous. To be quite honest, if this book had not been sent to me for review, I probably would have given it scant, if any, attention. Not because it dealt with foster care--an important and timely subject--but because its author, an unknown, was dropped in our midst without any introduction. After all, it's asking a lot to expect people to plunk down $2.95, plus tax, to read the life story, or confessions, of someone you never heard of.
In fact, while reading About Courage, I kept wishing that Fleming, who spent virtually all of his childhood in foster care, had introduced himself in the pages of a magazine, say Essence magazine's annual men's issue, rather than in a 224-page book. Despite all of the ups and downs in his 33 years, there still isn't enough compelling material here to warrant a lengthy retelling. A 2,000-word magazine piece would have been more fitting. His life as an absurd, self-hating, confused, and rebellious gay adolescent isn't really all that remarkable. Aside from giving current foster kids the feeling that they too can rise above their situation as well as providing them with a resilient role model (he goes on to college, later landing a job as an electrical draftsman), About Courage otherwise doesn't offer any profound insights into the foster care system or the foster child. As a reader, it stirred no outrage in me. In fact, it would have been better if he had written about the Washington, D.C.-based orphanage, Junior Village, where he had spent some time as a child. (It was closed in 1973, after 26 years in existence, writes Fleming, "because of an alleged history of abuse of the very children it was designed to help.") All we're offered really is a succession of horror stories: his sexual victimization by the older boys at the orphanage, the on-the-job harassment of him by male co-workers because of his sexuality, his reunion with his mentally ill mother (strangely this episode is twice recounted--in Chapters 1 and 17, in almost identical words), his eviction from an apartment he shared with a resentful, irresponsible heterosexual couple who misuse the rent money he's given them.
Despite a few flaws in the book, it is clear that Mickey Fleming has writing talent. It will be interesting to see what his next book, if there is to be one, will be about. I hope it won't be a sequel. I also hope he'll use his own photo for the dust jacket and not a model's. If, in the words of one of the characters in the book, he and pop singer Prince "could pass for brothers," why the subterfuge?
This article was originally published in the Chicago-based gay and lesbian publication, Outlines (February 1990).
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
"The Block," A Play About Inner City Family Life
The Block, written by Earl A. Johnson and directed by Hamid Fardjad, ran for a month [October 28-November 20, 1983] at the Actor's Outlet Theatre on West 28th Street [in Manhattan]. It concerned itself with the problems faced by inner city black teenagers from the perspective of three families: a single, alcoholic mother on welfare who wants her daughter to quit high school and find a job; a stable but overly protective and inquisitive single mother who wants to meet her daughter's "little male friends," and a two-parent home where there are four teenagers present. Three of the four kids are problems. One daughter is pregnant, one son is involved in drug-dealing, and another son is consistently absent from school in order to pursue a boxing career.
Although many of the cast members were in group foster care, The Block did not specifically deal with foster care, only the problems that could cause a child to be placed by the authorities in an environment outside of the family unit. The play made the point that these problems can and do take place in any type of family setting. (It should also be pointed out that a child can be placed in foster care for reasons other than parental neglect and/or child abuse.)
The issues raised by the play were ones many adolescents would readily identify with: the lack of parent-child communication, teenage pregnancy, juvenile delinquency, the monetary lure of drug peddling, the struggle to prepare oneself for the adult world, racism, et cetera.
The Block, based on the experiences and thoughts of its 12 non-professional teenage actors, did not try to arrive at any simplistic solutions. Its goal was to present, in dramatic form, the reality of the streets and of home life for many kids in urban neighborhoods and to give us food for thought and discussion.
"Some grownups can learn something from it [the play], too," said 19-year-old Margaret M., a cast member who was working as a nurse's aide, "because there's some parents who act like [the parents in the play] toward their teenagers and there are some teenagers who don't listen to what their parents say. It is not only for the teenagers to learn something from the play, it's also good for some of the grownups to understand their kids better."
One interesting aspect of the play was the pairing of professional actors with non pros. Although it was easy to tell who was a pro and who was not by the quality of the acting, that in no way took anything away from the impact of the scenes or their message.
All that the participants asked the audience to do was come to the theatre with open minds and to check their negative thoughts about inner city life at the door.
The Block was conceived through improvisation, and was sponsored by the New York City Human Resources Administration's Office of Direct Child Care Services.
This article was originally published in the Harlem Weekly newspaper in 1983.
Although many of the cast members were in group foster care, The Block did not specifically deal with foster care, only the problems that could cause a child to be placed by the authorities in an environment outside of the family unit. The play made the point that these problems can and do take place in any type of family setting. (It should also be pointed out that a child can be placed in foster care for reasons other than parental neglect and/or child abuse.)
The issues raised by the play were ones many adolescents would readily identify with: the lack of parent-child communication, teenage pregnancy, juvenile delinquency, the monetary lure of drug peddling, the struggle to prepare oneself for the adult world, racism, et cetera.
The Block, based on the experiences and thoughts of its 12 non-professional teenage actors, did not try to arrive at any simplistic solutions. Its goal was to present, in dramatic form, the reality of the streets and of home life for many kids in urban neighborhoods and to give us food for thought and discussion.
"Some grownups can learn something from it [the play], too," said 19-year-old Margaret M., a cast member who was working as a nurse's aide, "because there's some parents who act like [the parents in the play] toward their teenagers and there are some teenagers who don't listen to what their parents say. It is not only for the teenagers to learn something from the play, it's also good for some of the grownups to understand their kids better."
One interesting aspect of the play was the pairing of professional actors with non pros. Although it was easy to tell who was a pro and who was not by the quality of the acting, that in no way took anything away from the impact of the scenes or their message.
All that the participants asked the audience to do was come to the theatre with open minds and to check their negative thoughts about inner city life at the door.
The Block was conceived through improvisation, and was sponsored by the New York City Human Resources Administration's Office of Direct Child Care Services.
This article was originally published in the Harlem Weekly newspaper in 1983.
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