I grew up in the projects of Houston Texas.  The 5th Ward to be exact, home of The Ghetto Boys and George Foreman.  The nickname for this part of H-town is The Bloody 5th.  I remember as a young girl walking to school, I never felt threatened though.  Folks looked out for each other... we was more like a family community than anything. 

But the kids were ruthless... even in elementary school.  Now let me tell you, I could talk a lot of trash! And when I would get into it with another kid, as long as things were verbal, I was winning... but that was just lip-service.  The moment it was time for the first punch to be thrown, I'd take a dive.  I ain't even wait for the Black National Anthem to be sung... before the ring announcer named the fighters, before the referee told us to "go in our corners and come out swinging"-- I hit the deck. 

I thought I was one of the prettiest girls at Bruce Elementary school, and I wasn't gonna let none of them project bunnies permanently mess up my face.  So what if that left me looking like a yellow belly coward... I ain't have no scars and all my teeth were in tact.

At 7 years old, these girls were punching harder than Mike Tyson.  And the chicks were huge... one girl, Brenda Goosby was 6-feet tall in the third grade and wore a size 10-shoe... she shopped in the Mrs. section of JC Penny's.  With my below-average height and weight, she would have torn me to shreds.

But I had to fight somebody to get the monkey off my back... you just couldn't go through an entire school year without getting your scrap on... so I picked a fight with one of the weaker kids, assuming I could beat her up.  

So there was this cripple girl named Katherine Brown--we called her Cripple Katherine cause she only had one leg. Literally, she had a wooden leg in 3rd grade... and I figured I could take her. That was my only shot at winning a fight.  Hey man, I'm trying to keep the heat off me okay!

So I started my signature trash-talking... dogging out poor Cripple Katherine at lunch one day.  Calling her peg leg... weeble wobble but she don't fall down... all that kinda stuff.  She wasn't phased until I called her nappy headed.  Baby, she was steaming.  Told me she'd meet me under the flag-pole at 3:00 PM to teach me a lesson.

That's as good as I wanted... I'm thinking "This girl got one good leg, ain't no way I can get beat. I can take her!"

So I got out of class, picked up my little cousin Nikki who was in 1st grade and marched out to the flag pole talking plenty of mess. 

Cripple Katherine is there waiting on me, punching her fist into her hand. 

So, we square off... walk around in circles shoulder to shoulder until one of us decides to throw a blow... I hear Nikki yell out "Kick her in the good leg!" 

I thought "Yeah, that's a good idea, I'll kick her and she won't have a leg to stand on--literally."

So I pick up my foot to clip her and she pushes me, I lose my balance and fall to the ground.  Kathrine hobbles over and falls on top of me--and commences to beating the hell outta me.  She scratched my face all up, slapped me so hard, my glasses flew off, punched me in the face and busted my lip....

I literally blacked out, I don't know what happened after that.  Next thing I know, all the kids who were watching the fight are gone and just my cousin Nikki is standing over me looking down. 

In a coma-like daze, I see her foggy silhouette and ask "Did I win?"

She looked down at my blood beaten face and said "Yeah you won, now get up and help me find your front teeth."