Category: Being African American

Dear Ex Foster Mom and teacher,

From day one, I was your black child. An accolade for you to add to your resume. I told you on day one, “I am broken and did not deserve a family.” Yet, you took me in. In that, I say thank you. You helped me get a passport and travel overseas. You bought me food, but that was at the hands of the state welfare system. You and your wonderful family reminded me of where
I stood.

My story didn’t matter. You saw yourself above the abuse of my biological family. However, in the worst of times, the Dickeys never kicked me out and left me for dead. The Dickeys fight and argue and have been strange; however, blood is thicker than water when the fight happens.

I was never your child. I was money for you to pay Debbie as a house cleaner. You should limit me to my allowance of $120 a month while you pay your better children’s credit cards, college tuition, and even graduate school.

When I was able to get a license, you said no because I couldn’t afford insurance, but that was never the problem for your birthed ones. I was asked to walk the dog when I said “no.” Asked “why.” I replied, “I didn’t ask for a dog”, and was told, “I didn’t ask for a foster sibling”

The day you told me, “I was tired.” I should have known you were fickle. Your love fades. My former foster father lost his job or quit, and I was earning a little income from Starbucks. You wanted me to pay rent when your perfect children lived free.

I had a 5k refund, and you told me to rent a room. You got rid of me at age 19 when I had to remind your perfect children of my history. My history’s truth was too much for you.

When you told the hospital that I could not come back, I was deemed homeless. You told me to get a sleeping bag and sleep in the green, and I did. I was almost raped, pulled needles out of druggies arms, and saw the worst of life. I went hungry and developed hypoglycemia. I only had one meal daily in the restaurant I worked in. I slept on my youth pastor’s couch crying every night, thinking I was the evil one and confirming my belief that I break families and am the problem.

In reality, I was a poor black child brought into a white middle-class family of Yale, Smith, and Bank Street family. I didn’t fit in. Not only by the color of my skin.

My life changed when I was welcomed into my Continuum of Care family. You were happy because I was no longer your burden, and you could continue to live your rich white life.

Out of sympathy and maybe guilt, you bought me groceries and took me to dinner. I still knew you were fickle. In Nov 2014, I was approved for Social Security, and you were my payee. Instead of giving me my money, you told me to eat at a shelter when I finally had an increase. I removed you as my payee, and I gained an increase. When I worked for Perfect Care and I had to pay rent and bills, money was thin, you would send me $100 on Venmo. First, you would put a heart emoji and the name “Bank.” When I got a 6k refund check, you reminded me of all the transactions you had given me and made me repay you $600. I knew you were fickle.

I apologize and apologized. I hadn’t been hospitalized in 6 years and wasn’t invited for Christmas, Thanksgiving, or anything. Nothing would let me see the only one who loved me, the closest person I had to a dad; I knew I would never see him again.

I lived in a hell hole where there were mice, rats, drugs, guns, and sex in the elevators, and I didn’t have a bed. I asked you to buy me a sleeping bag and help me with my bunny. And you did. But while you slept in a bed, and your family was comforted, I slept with mice and rats bitting at my feet. For two years, I slept in a computer chair.

When God decided to bless me with an amazing apartment in a safe Wooster Square middle-class community, you became spiteful and angry. As if my blackness was only meant for the slums.

As Joesph said in the bible in Genesis 20:20, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about” that I would save lives, feed the hungry, find a truly loving church home where I received love and acceptance. Save my birth mom during Covid-19. What you meant to destroy me spitefully and vindictively, God used to grow me.

I forgive you. I will always love you. However, the greatest moment of my life was when I said goodbye. We have not spoken in about two years, and God has given me an Aunt Sue, my angel, I have good aunts and uncles, a new father and mother figure, and I am loved. You know, love is based on money and gifts. I know love from God on high. I didn’t need a community to think I was good, upright, and holy. You have a white savior God complex, but when the funds ended, your love ended. It was never really there.

I wish you the best. I wish you success and happiness. I want you to live an old age and see your grandchildren graduate from high school, and I want you to age with grace and have abundant money, love, and happiness.

I truly let you go. After this post, you are just a wound, a scare, and a testimony of how strong my Yahweh is and the better angel within me. I cannot change the past; I accept it as my story.

From Glory to Glory! From Faith to Faith.

Good-bye,

Xih-Zephyrine Ziggy Zih (your ex-black foster child)