Autobiography

I have always been underneath things and in between them. I was born cesarean because the doctor had to pull me out from under my mother's ribs (where I believe my twin sister kicked me to in order to make more room for herself in the womb those last few months). Arriving twenty minutes after my sister's natural birth made me the middle child. Since riding in a car one summer in Decatur, Georgia with the sunset turning orange-purple-pink I have always loved being under the sky, searching for a spot to stand where I think I can cup it in my hands if I want to. I cannot let my memories rest below the surface of the present so when we left my father in Georgia to move to Silver Spring, Maryland, I would remind my mother of the Christmas Tree falling and the car ride at night in the white Pinto, and other moments she wanted me to leave in Georgia, underneath the present, so the past would eventually settle down so far below us we would forget we were walking on top of it.

Being underneath and in between has given me nooks and underbellies as spaces to find my voice within. These spaces have been what I use to name myself. I have gone through several names, each representing a stage I have entered and left, each name an in between and an underneath I have gone through or I am still finding my way beyond. I was once a Reverend of paradoxes because I loved to marry them, a Disciple converting people into the Christian faith, a Mystic leading myself to a spiritual height beyond religion, a Common Ground for balancing these extremes. The latest name is my superhero one, Metaphor. With it I can create lifeboats, airlifts, and runways for people to use to elevate themselves at the therapeutic center where I conduct writing sessions. All these names are ones I have chosen at some point to identify with. They are what I have discovered when finding myself in between or underneath an understanding of how to express myself, how to live. There are names that run through me that I have not chosen, but that I will always find streaming inside of me in some way.

Deborah Gardner and Tamara Jackson are my womb women. Deborah is my mother and Tamara is my twin sister. Both are dense with pain and brilliance. It is what makes them impenetrable. I like to find the nooks and underbellies, but these women do not seek out these places. They are able to see and understand who they are and how to live their lives without ever changing their names or seeking hideaways to see the world through.

My mother worked nights as a press operator for 20 years. Though she is a woman who loves the light of day she slept through it for two decades. Once she changed careers and began a 9 to 5 schedule she learned that she could relate to both the night and the day, and how to effectively use the set of hours each sun and moon gives. From her, I carry with me endurance and how to be a gladiator of hope when it comes to pulling yourself out of where you know you are not meant to be.

My twin is already a mother and a wife. She became these roles in a matter of one year. To see her mothering a child has been the most literal manifestation of a metaphor I have ever witnessed. Before becoming a mother my sister mothered herself and taught me how to do the same. Growing up she was a reminder of our father because she resembled almost every feature of his face. My mother felt the marriage to my father she had intended to flee once leaving Georgia every time she looked into my sister's eyes. This treatment, along with being cared for at night by others' while our mother was resting for work made my sister grow into adulthood with a tendency to want to feel nested. She taught herself how to split herself and become Tami the mother caring for Tami the child in need. This I learned how to use to cradle myself when leaving home for school and moving alone to New York. This task of mothering self has been signature to my life as I've grappled with a clear path to take after graduating, with maintaining idealism and dreams in the face of a dogmatic 'real world', and with defining my own reality.

My womb women names and the ones I have listed before them can illustrate many parts of me, but I know I am dominated in my identity by the title writer. In the last couple of years, I have grown more and more unapologetic and committed to creating my life and value out of this identity.