One day I was feeling a bit overwhelmed at work and decided to take
a stroll through our downtown park, called Emancipation Garden. I
saw a man giving modelling lessons and given that I sewed all my
own clothing, my interest was immediately piqued. The gentleman,
Mr. Lee, was an older male with an American (or as we say stateside)
accent and when we started to speak about what he was doing, he
asked me if I wanted to model. Me? He wanted this shy, quiet chick to
model clothing in front of people? Uh, uh. But…somewhere deep inside I
really wanted to do it. Right there on the spot Mr. Lee took my hand
and began to walk me through the fundamentals of modeling. I
returned to the office feeling refreshed and excited about the
possibilities that lay ahead. I returned to Mr. Lee’s modeling school
and quickly learned the ropes. Thanks to my Uncle Sam’s assistance,
I had been able to purchase a little red Volkswagen Fox, which came
in handy with all the back and forth I had to do to manage my job,
my son, and my newfound modeling career. It felt like the stars were
lining up in my favor, or on a spiritual note, that God had finally
started to smile on me. But how could He, when I was steadily questioning
whether or not He was real y in my corner? Modeling allowed me to feel
beautiful and sexy – at least on the outside, and be accepted for the
garments I wore. If I could be appreciated for my outer beauty then no one
would discover the misery and pain that was eating away at me on the inside.
Right?
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Author: Yassin S. Hall | Co-Author: Loán C. Sewer
During this summer I met my first boyfriend Leroy. Believe it or
not, this was the first time in my life I had opened myself up enough
to another person to let them in; and it was the first time I allowed
myself to fall in love. It’s actually kind of funny how we met. I was at
a dance with my friend Simone and he dropped the corniest line on
me saying, “You look so sweet you look like syrup.” Well, the look I
gave him was anything but sweet or syrupy and it was followed by a
good old Caribbean suck teeth. I mean how lame is that? Come on, dude!
Simone and I just walked away laughing, while he kept referring to
me as “Syrup.” A few days later, she called me to say that the ‘syrup
dude’ showed up at her job looking for me. First of al , how the heck did
he know where she worked? Can you say stalker? But, in truth, that showed a
little creativity on his part, and he was kind of cute. Aww hell.. I actual y fel for
his goofy antics.
Around the same time, I was making plans to go to college. I knew
from day one that I was not going to be a statistical teenage mother; I
was going to college. Period. Once my mind was made up, Mama and
Uncle Sam pitched in to help me so I could start college in August of
1989. My uncle would help to support my studies and my
grandmother would keep my son until I got settled in at school. In
my heart I wanted to be a fashion designer. I had expressed this to
my uncle a couple years earlier, but he plainly told me he wasn’t
paying for me to go to college for that, and sent me to the library ( yes
people, this was LONG before Google) to look up good paying jobs. My
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research back then didn’t turn up any Virgin Islands-born fashion
designers, but I have since learned that there are a few out there.
Uncle Sam seems to have no recol ection of this chain of events, but we do get a
good laugh out of it now.
After relaying my findings, I told my uncle that I would attend
college to study business with a minor in travel and tourism.
Unbeknownst to him, I was still creating a vision in my mind that I
would be known for my designs and that my clothing would be
featured on the red carpet. As the time neared for me to leave for
school in Florida, it became incredibly difficult and heart-wrenching
to leave my nine-month old son behind. While in my head I knew
that this was a necessary move to create a better life for the two of
us, in my heart I was terrified. After al , I did not want him to feel
abandoned in any way, and trust me, children do know these things regardless of
their ages. The reality was that I needed more than a high school
diploma to fulfill my dreams and to be able to take care of both of us.
I said my goodbyes and promised him that I would come back to
visit on every break ( thankful y there are direct flights between Ft. Lauderdale
and St. Thomas that are just a couple of hours).
This was the start of a two-year journey that would be a game-
changer for my son and me, and I cried from lift off to landing, not
knowing what the future held for us. I settled into my new place and
threw myself into student mode. On the first day of class, I met a
young lady from the Bahamas who would become my roommate for
those two long years. Interestingly enough, she was majoring in
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Fashion Design! Go figure. Yes, I happened to conveniently pick a technical
col ege that offered majors in travel & tourism and fashion design. That was just
my determined mind at work. I taught her about business and she taught
me about fashion design. During my last semester, I went to the
school’s dean, showed him my good grades, and asked him if I he
would al ow me to take three design classes required to graduate with
an additional degree in fashion design. I was motivated by the desire
to provide my son with the best life possible so I shared with the
dean how I had consistently been on the Dean’s list, even after I
went back to St. Thomas to get my son so he could be with me. The
dean learned that other students in the dorms would help me by
babysitting between classes and he, too, was amazed by my
determination. He then agreed that if I took the classes at night he
would authorize the dual degree track for me, so that is exactly what I
did for the last six months of school, with my toddler in tow. By that
time, I had also taken on a position as manager of a retail store to
ensure that I could pay for my new classes, because my uncle’s words
were still ringing in my ears. Although I was super excited that I was
studying the fashion industry, I didn’t feel that I could be completely
honest with any of my relatives – especially Uncle Sam. I could not
muster the courage to possibly tel my family that I was going to have a career in
fashion despite their warnings. I decided to just send them a graduation
announcement and say, ‘By the way, I am graduating with a dual degree in
business and fashion design.’ Nonetheless, as if I didn’t have enough on
my plate, I decided to audition for an MTV fashion show at my
school. I made it through to the final rounds and was selected to
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participate, making this my first runway modeling gig in the United
States. It felt so good to be forming my own identity without
judgment because of my mother. I was beginning to relish my
independence, which became even more important once my first love
and I ended our relationship. The long distance had just become too much for
the both of us, but we have remained friends to this day. For the first time in a
very long time I felt normal; and it felt fantastic.
I graduated from college with my two degrees in hand and my little
son in the cheering section – I don’t think I invited anyone else to
attend my ceremony. I returned to St. Thomas and started working in
the local Chase Bank and it almost felt like I had never left.
Immediately I began to miss the anonymity that comes with living
away and I started to retreat inward again. To shake of the insecurity
and self-consciousness, I went back to modeling with Mr. Lee so that
it appeared from the outside that I was still confident. Even I knew that
I was fooling myself, but hey, you have to fake it ‘til you make it sometimes. No
sooner than I started all of this, my mother was strolling up and
down the Charlotte Amalie waterfront all day, and my workplace was
right in the middle of that stroll. Later that year, I met the man who
would become the father of my second son. This man was so smooth
and had apparently been checking me out from afar. One day I was
on the beach and my ex-boyfriend and I were having a brief
conversation. After I went about my business, this man walked right
up to him and asked him who I was. A few days later he even had his
best friend call me up to tell me how much he cared about me. Do
people still do that after age 14? I have to say he was rather persistent, which
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should have been a red flag for me to pay attention to his behavior, but you know
how it is when you are swept of your feet. Since I was pretty introverted
when off stage, I typically did not socialize with others, because I
suspected they were gossiping about me behind my back. I remember
thinking, “This fine man must be crazy to be talking to me, doesn’t he know I
have a mother who real y is crazy? . . and did he just sit down on the beach to
play with my son and me? I guess people would just have to talk.”
It would be close to a year before I let the new guy come close to my
heart strings, but that did not deter him. He continued to persist and
pursue me. I asked myself if I could honestly let another person in
and trust them with my love? In hindsight, I realize that all of the
abandonment issues and devastation surrounding my mother’s il ness were keeping
me from giving and receiving love. When I finally let my guard down, I gave
him 100 percent of me and loved him from his toe nails to his soul. I
just loved all of him. During this time, I switched jobs and
transitioned from banking to working in travel and tourism for a
company that advertised the port lectures on board the cruise ships. I
felt so at home that I began to come alive once again. My employers
were so cool. Though they were from the Virgin Islands, they rarely
got caught up in the local drama and they had no clue who my
mother was. Nada. They just knew that I was a good employee who
loved her job and them because I was good at masking my real
feelings about everything.
As my relationship progressed, I pushed aside my hesitations and
decided to go full force with my heart leading the way. Our
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relationship was still new but we decided to move in together and
start our life. Within a few months of living together I found out that
I was pregnant and needless to say it came as quite a surprise. It
wasn’t that long ago that my doctor had told me that there was a very
high probability that I would not ever have children again because of
a blockage in my fallopian tubes. I would subsequently undergo a
series of surgeries to increase my chances of conception but for it to
happen so quickly? I did not see that coming. Besides, Mama had already
warned me that she wasn’t taking in another child to raise. What was I going to
do? In the fifth year of our relationship, my boyfriend started to show
a completely different side of himself. I went from being his
girlfriend to his possession. After going through a lifetime of feeling
like my mother’s possession, I certainly was NOT willing to become
another person’s object. I began to speak up for myself, which led to
verbal, and later, physical abuse. The last straw came when he put a
knife to my throat. By then, I was completely stripped of my self-
esteem and had lost all interest in sewing; and that’s saying a lot. Like
most victims of abuse, I was too embarrassed to tell my family or
seek help. I mean, how could I tell them that I had screwed up yet again by
choosing a less than favorable partner? I just knew in my spirit that I had to
get out of the situation on my own, so I packed up my things and left
St. Thomas for good. I have since only returned to visit, and do so
frequently, but I just could not take being stained yet again with the
stigma of one more bad thing in my life. I had just had enough!
My departure would turn out to be a blessing in disguise as this was
1994 and one of the most ferocious hurricanes the islands would ever
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Author: Yassin S. Hall | Co-Author: Loán C. Sewer
see would hit the island one year later. With my hasty departure, I
pretty much hit the reset button on life and seemingly dropped off
the face of the earth. I even lost contact with my childhood friends
Simone and Janis. If it wasn’t family, I real y wasn’t trying to make contact. It
was just something that I needed to do to make it through that leg of my journey.
When I left St. Thomas, I realized that I couldn’t manage with my
oldest son and an infant, so I made the ridiculously painful decision
to leave my eldest with my grandmother for a little while. There are
no words to describe what it felt like to have to make that choice. I
felt like I had a hole in my soul, and more than anything I didn’t want
him to feel abandoned yet again, especially now that his was older
and a little more aware. As parents we often make decisions in the
moment that are the best we can do at that time – and this thought
has given me a little more insight into why my mother may have
initially made arrangements for my godparents to raise me when I
was born.
As I relocated to Florida with my little one, I replayed the past year in
my mind and had to ask myself what it was about me that there was
so much dysfunction in my life. Keep in mind, I was only in my mid-
twenties but so much had happened that I felt as though I had lived a
thousand lifetimes already. I made a vow to God that I was never
going to love again because in MY world, love equaled pain. I know
this may sound rather cynical, but let’s face it, my track record in matters of the
heart was not looking so great – my mother and father seemed to want nothing to
do with me, my first child was conceived in an unloving way, and the second man I
gave my heart to used his love to beat my spirit out of me. I was surely batting a
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big, fat zero. With just $2000 to my name, and no source of
employment, I made up my mind to rely on myself. I developed a
special friendship with a young lady who gave us shelter during my
transition because she respected and admired my drive to make
things right for myself. It turns out that I knew her then-boyfriend,
now husband, but she and I had never met her until now. Her
generosity paved the way for us to become very good friends but
even with al she had done to help me I was guarded. During that
time, my Uncle Sam also saw the positive changes in me since I left
the island and offered to assist me in purchasing my first home.
Final y, a sense of normalcy and stability. Perhaps now I could have a life with a
little less drama. Lord, who was I kidding?
As part of my fresh start, I went back to school to become certified
in computer science I had an interest in computers and it was a field
in which I could grow. I had a new life and a new career, helping
others learn how to navigate this new computer era. Around 1997,
things were looking up and I climbed the ladder rapidly in my
company, and then later at another firm. It was during this move that
I met my now ex-husband. What caught my attention with him was
how differently he treated me. He had a huge heart and took care of
everything for me, including helping me in my career, but most
importantly he treasured me. He was everything that everyone else
who claimed to love me was not. Unfortunately, this is what attracted
me to him, so I loved him for all the wrong reasons. Looking back
now, I know that I was wrong to let him think the feelings were
mutual. Believe me, it wasn’t that I didn’t care for him; I did. I just
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didn’t know how to love someone without it causing me tremendous pain. After
everything I’d been through up to that point in my life I had created
an emotional bubble around myself to avoid feeling anything and
everything. I had even convinced myself that I was this brand new
person; that I had reinvented myself. I threw myself into my
modeling career and bought into my own hype that I was as happy as
I looked in the photographs. I essentially created a whole new
scenario without sharing any major details about my past trauma or
my dysfunctional upbringing with the new man in my life.
I was setting the stage for failure and didn’t even see it coming, but as
they say, what’s done in the dark must come to light; and it did. I had
been in Florida about three or four years before meeting my ex-
husband and as things progressed, I became pregnant with my third
child, my son Riki, who was born autistic. It was a very difficult
pregnancy and delivery, so much so that I was told that trying to give
birth another time could cost me my life! This was like a death
sentence to me because I so desperately wanted to try for a little girl.
It was almost like an obsession for me, to the point where if I went
into a store and passed the girls’ clothing, I would have a major
meltdown. I loved my children, my boys, but all I wanted was the
chance to become the mother that mine could not be, and try to
build upon her legacy by raising a little girl into a strong, dynamic
woman. Looking back now, I was still doing so with my sons, but at
the time it just didn’t feel like enough.
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One day, I was in a store, and was so overcome by emotion that I
literally fell out on the floor crying hysterically because I felt robbed
of the gift of having a girl child. So maybe I was losing it just a tad. What
in the world was I being so melodramatic about when God had blessed me with
my beautiful boys? After talking with my husband about my desires, we
made the decision to adopt our daughter. We initially tried to do so in
the U.S., but there were so many rules and restrictions, particularly if
you wanted to adopt a child from another racial background. After
months of research, we settled on Cambodia, a country where they
were happy for couples to adopt their orphaned children, so we
worked with an agent who helped to make our dream a reality.
On March 19, 2001, we began our quest with the adoption process to
bring our daughter home, and on May 19, 2001, we received our
referral photo of her from the agent. It was then we learned that she
had been born on the day we began the adoption. I think this was
God’s way of tel ing us she was the daughter he created just for us. Her birth
name was Rath Chouck Chan. Rath means orphan in Cambodian, but
my husband and I decided to blend our family names to give her the
name Yamisha. On August 17, 2001, my husband and I boarded a
plane for Cambodia to meet Yamisha for the first time. It was a
rather long plane ride to the other side of the world, and we arrived
two days later on August 19, 2001, five months after our little girl had
been born.
Despite this happy occasion, the core of my marriage had been
shaken several months before when I first took my husband to St.
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Thomas to meet my family and to inform them about our decision to
adopt. During the course of the visit, after five years of secrecy and
half-truths, I decided to disclose the truth about my past and my
family history. Let’s just say that he was not happy, and I can’t say that I
blamed him. He was shocked and more than a little bit upset, and told
me that I had built a life for us that was based on a complete lie.
Once again, I had allowed my mother’s madness to have control over
the choices I made. In hindsight, I was wrong to have done that to
him, and I now realize that you have to own up to everything you are
in order to love and accept the reflection in the mirror. It became
evident that my true reason for not being able to love him fully was
because I didn’t love myself, but after disclosing my truth, it opened
the door for me to begin my journey to healing myself.
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Author: Yassin S. Hall | Co-Author: Loán C. Sewer