Art4TheHomeless
Age. 25
Gender. Female Ethnicity. caucasion sorta
Location Atlanta, GA School.
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Welcome to Art4TheHomeless! This is a blog created by Johnna Crider, an artist who has been homeleess as a child, and wants to use her art to make a difference. You can find out more about Johnna, her accomplishments, her art, and her clientele here: Johnna's Bio
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| Saturday. 7.7.07 8:39 pm Among the things I did today--the luckiest day of the century some people say because of 7/7/07--was take a train ride on the MARTA North Springs train. After we left the Lindbergh station, we were out of the tunnel and the mountains rose. And I remembered my longing to come home to Georgia, to find my family, my father, to finally be accepted by them as one of them. I forgot the bayou sunsets, jambalaya, jamborees and festivals of Mardi Gras that I was raised around. I remembered the mountains and the land called to my soul. I knew that I was where I belonged--in North Georgia; as far north as the MARTA system will take you.
My mother was born and raised in Gordon County, and my father in Cobb County. I was born in Cartersville, GA--Bartow County but I know nothing about them. Nothing about the family that I want to be a part of except this one fact--they want nothing to do with me and denied that they knew of me. My mother's cousins and other relatives except for one all denied they knew of my existance. My 3rd cousin Haley told me in so many words to never call her back on our second phone call. And my father says that I am not his daughter.
Our family abandoned us and a part of me hates them, especialy my father and his family who pretty much gave me the cold shoulder since he never mentioned my mother or me to them. They were more polite toward me than my own cousin but the hostility and coldness was there in their voice. I was not wanted. My birth was a mistake to them.
Because of that, I was homeless as a child, and a survivor of Hurricane Rita, and classified as a Katrina victim by the Job Corps system since my landlord kicked me out to benefit from Kevin Costner's movie The Guardian, which bought out two floors of his building. I was not the only one booted, I later heard. If it wasn't for those hurricanes, I would probably have kept my apartment since I paid my rent on time all the time.
I stayed with my best friend from high school for a month and then moved to Atlanta, where my mother already moved to before the hurricanes. And I remember coming into the mountains by bus and having this feeling of rightness; that I was where I belonged. I experienced that again today. This land calls to my soul, my blood, in a way no other place ever could. I may look Creole--hair and light skin color--may have a slight north Louisiana accent that is slowly fading into a north Georgia accent.
I want to do something. I want to prove to my family and my father that I am someone valuable, someone worthy of their love and acceptance, no matter who's child I am or the circumstance of my birth. I want my family to want me. I want my father to apologize for his cruelty in abandoning me. I want to be loved by them and I know that will never happen unless I come into money or fame and then their love will be false. Nothing can buy true love and acceptance. Nothing. I will never have the love of a father or a cousin or an aunt. I will never be comfortable in my own skin if I were to go and visit my family. I would never be welcomed with open arms as the long lost relative. I am Johnna Crider, bastard child of Johnnie Crider and that meant that I was supposed to have been aborted in my family's eyes.
So being in this land that spoke to my soul and made my blood run hot and my heart race with a mixture of hope, longing, and anticipation, was just a fresh reminder that I will never belong in the place I was born so what makes me hope and think that I will ever belong anywhere or be loved for who I really am?
The only thing that helps ease the pain is art. I pour my sadness, bitterness, hurt, pain, and anger into my writing and painting. But it only relieves it temporarily.
I am grateful to my mother who is the only family member I know that loves me--a love that cost her the love of her family and the love of her life--my dad.
I currently stay on Job Corps dorm and have completed the program and attend the advanced training. If it weren't for Job Corps, I would probably be on the streets.Categories: home [t], homesickness [t], rejection [t], family [t], abandonment. Louisiana [t], Georgia [t], North Georgia [t], woods [t], train [t], pain [t], hurt [t], love [t], father [t], mother [t] So you live with your friend now? » Dilated on 2007-07-07 09:35:26 That's got to be the worst feeling in the world, not being accepted by your own family.
I've never been to Georgia, but I love Louisiana. I haven't been back since Katrina. I had my heart set on attending Tulane in Fall '06, but I was getting too much pressure from my family to stay here in the West. » Someones_Muse on 2007-07-07 10:56:48 If you are a member, try logging in again or accessing this page here. |
