The autobiography ‘Leaving Breezy Street’ by Brenda Myers-Powell is both a terrible book and an educational book. I do not recommend it for those still suffering any kind of active PTSD currently, or those who are just beginning therapy because of trauma. However, it would be an instructive and validating book for those who are trying to escape prostitution and underworld companions. I also think therapists and friends of addicted loved ones might find the book enlightening, as well as the curious. She goes deep into the world of prostitution. Perhaps, gentle reader, you may find yourself motivated into doing volunteer work or getting a professional degree to help such people as Brenda was.
Myers-Powell explains in her autobiography, in brief but graphic vignettes, and factually, how through rape and constant molestation and physical abuse throughout her impoverished childhood, year by year, she became sexualized on several levels by age nine. Her relatives and peers were into sex and drinking and beatings, with fists and electrical cords, the same way people eat meals to satisfy hunger. She grew up as a Black child in a city, I believe Chicago, in a Black neighborhood. She skipped school a lot. She had two daughters by the time she was fifteen years old that she couldn’t take care of for most of their lives. As a result of becoming a prostitute, she also became an addict.
With the help of April Reynolds, she has put together her autobiography to educate and explain what happened to her as a child, and the choices she made as an adult. The book could be a difficult read for many readers, as Myers-Powell does not hold anything back. She writes, in simple terms and in cultural dialect (bitch this and bitch that, primarily - it is like the vocabulary of her oldest friends and family consist of 500 words or less, half of them derogatory curse words spoken in ‘affection’ - most of the time) of what happened to her, and the things she is responsible for. She includes her mental state of mind at the different ages things occurred. I think she was very undereducated and ignorant to put it mildly even as an adult! But she did go to school as an adult and got a nursing certificate. She was a good student. For awhile, she was a different kind of working girl, but she couldn’t stay away from those ghetto friends and lovers, and the drugs.
She tells of a childhood environment, Myers-Powell believes, was full of love as well as torture, rape and abuse. She enjoyed normal, if limited in quantity and quality, childhood pleasures. But she also committed a lot of juvenile and adult crimes. Everyone around her, children and adults, all committed crimes and many were convicted criminals. As an adult, she always chose a milieu of pimps, criminals, prostitutes, gangs and drug dealers - exactly as what people she knew as a child.
At times when a child, she left her grandmother’s house to live with other relatives who lived in neighborhoods that were better resourced and less violent than that of her main caretaker, her grandmother. However, I got the feeling Myers-Powell lived inside of an ignorant social vacuum with disinterested or unmotivated or pedophile adults surrounding her as a child. I think maybe she also chose to ignore better opportunities that did cross her path when a child or as an adult. But I also think she did not have what we have come to call social capital or any kind of educational background to grasp where a better choice could lead. In my opinion, she also had a huge craving for friends, lovers-and-criminal-protectors (very much the same thing) which superseded everything else, coloring every choice, including breaking out of the underclass and moving away from her protector-torturer-abuser ‘friends’. Just my opinion. She still loves her ne’er-do-well friends and family deeply and sincerely.
From her memoir, she seems to have resisted her abusers a lot - in her mind. But outside of her head? Not so much, in my opinion, unless bragging about how much torture, pain and self-abuse she could take without fear or breaking is about resisting. She actually was unable to change the trajectory of her life until a horrific encounter with a john at age thirty-nine - being dragged by a car which tore up her face - put an end to her career. After that she got, and wanted, help. This vignette is told early in the book - no spoilers.
Myers-Powell is a hero today. She is working hard to save others who have been sex-trafficked. She is an experienced public speaker. She has received many awards for her activism and her service. She is the cofounder and executive director of the Dreamcatcher Foundation since 1997 and has been on the board of many organizations involved with stopping sex trafficking.
In the present, she is apparently a hardcore Christian. She feels God made everything happen for a reason. She is very grateful to God, along with many other people who helped her get out of prostitution and addiction after she left the hospital.
While I completely believe her and trust her Truth, I wasn’t this kind of kid despite that I also had a home with some similarities to hers until I was old enough to escape my abusers at about age nine by becoming a loner and a reader. She did none - NONE - of the things I did. I lost myself in reading books. I hung out with my teachers at school and in the library, staying for the events for kids that were free. I stayed in school, doing my best to get A’s. I joined in on school opportunities, such as a book-reading contest, becoming a school-crossing guard, cleaning the blackboards and running errands for my teachers. I made friends with other elementary-school nerds and brains. We hung out at their safer homes and I never invited them into mine. When I got a used bike from one of them, we went biking, leaving my neighborhood for others with a lake, a zoo, a beach, tourist sites like the government locks to watch fish travel up a fish ladder. We went to the Seattle Center for kid shows. I went to museums and concerts, learned to drive, participated in sports, all sponsored by groups working with my mostly White, if working-class, schools.
I hated my dad. Full stop. My mother, who I pined for frequently, benignly ignored us except when she was drunk. They were married and stayed together, which was amazing, frankly. Neither was home much. Dad was working all of the time, thankfully, and my mom preferred to stay away getting drunk as much as she could get away with leaving me and my brother on my own. We were latch-key kids, taking care of ourselves at the age of five (my brother) and seven (me, in charge), except occasionally we went to a neighborhood lady’s home who babysat for a few hours, until we were eleven or so. We lived in the same house, never moved, for my entire childhood. I moved out when I was eighteen. I did not have any relatives near. No adults in the near neighborhood bothered with us.
Frankly, I only trusted myself anyway. I wanted to be safe more than I wanted friends or adults around me. I only reached out to others I felt safe with, the nerds and brains who were socially awkward or also more into studying and books than close friendships as I was. Or who were so self-involved, they never inquired or were curious about me and my home or my parents. Yes, I had a lot of friends like the latter! I also did not allow anyone to ever touch me, fearing abuse more than I wanted affection or love. I never reached out except to teachers. I never asked for the phone numbers of others, although they asked for mine. I guess I kept people away a few steps, not wanting intimacy. I was very curious about them, though. I was socialized through watching other people and TV and books.
In comparing Myers-Powell’s life with mine, there are crystal-clear differences. I was not Black. I had a White father and a Native-American mother, so I looked unidentifiably and vaguely ethnic. Both of my parents stayed together and lived in one house for forty years.
I went to an average neighborhood school with resources, and it wasn’t downtown but in the middle of a residential area. Parts of the area was middle-class, parts of it were lower-class and underclass, mixed together. School was my safe place and sanctuary. Teachers gave me the impression they cared about me to a degree. I loved school, but especially I loved learning, studying, reading.
People fascinated and amazed me, but I did not love people. Myers-Powell seems to me desperate for people, and for love, even if in all the wrong places and in all of the wrong ways. I know I never thought I could trust people further than I could throw them, so I tried to be social only as much as I needed to be, and snuck off when I could, hopefully without anyone noticing.
Kids noticed I got A’s, so that was a natural barrier between me and many of them. I did not miss being with them, I never wanted to be part of a gang or a club, I wasn’t a joiner, I hated beer (the number one alcoholic drink of choice), drugs made me violently ill and I also had convulsions sometimes (later I found out I had an erratic brain wave - mild epilepsy). I was lousy at sports and activities (later I found out I have joint hypermobility - EDS). Of course, I had to have glasses in the third grade. So. A lot of barriers in attracting the attention of ne’er-do-well kids, friendly and otherwise. I never had kids. It turns out my uterus was messed up from bad stuff that happened.
Being suspicious of all adults kept me out of their hands. I didn’t talk back, but I ran off instead of waiting obediently for an adult command to “come here”, or “I’m talking to you!” “I want to show you something”. I was afraid to run only from my dad.
As an adult, I always looked for exits no matter who I was with or where I was. I kept money in my shoe to get a taxi always, no matter who I was with or where. I was one of those people who seem to always keep their coat on, and their purse strapped across their body, even when friends made fun of me or demanded I make myself comfortable. I “just said no” - the only time I ever was on the same page with President Reagan’s administration.
I do not believe in a God who causes or allows (an understanding that depends on the religion) some children to become prostitutes for decades. I don’t believe in a God who permits little kids, from prepuberty into adulthood, to live in an ignorant unschooled underclass violent life where death could happen anytime. Apparently God permits this until He has decided to ‘rescue’ His Chosen Ones in one of the ways He mysteriously does. For example, by destroying their face by being dragged on pavement by a sadistic man - who punched her repeatedly before she jumped out of the moving car before dragging her.
I have heard such awful things happen because God is teaching a lesson to a parent or other adult or to you about personal responsibility or He wants to humiliate you into recognizing you are scum. Or He is teaching, apparently, through victimizing a child and giving it agony, hoping the adult will see the errors of their ways and come to Jesus, all forgiven, even if they have damaged a child beyond all repair or hope of life. Sort of a biblical Job moment, where God destroys all of Job’s wives, children and relatives to show the Devil Job will always love God no matter what tortures God does or how many innocent children, who will never live to grow up because their entire purpose was in being a tool to teach an adult. Or God is standing about, waiting, for one to ask him for help, which He is willing to provide, invisibly for sure, maybe, or not, depending on His mood. Myers-Powell and I certainly understand cause-and-effect entirely different. But getting religion is part of how she made the decision to get out of the underworld. I have NO idea of how that works since the logic or philosophy of believing is insane to me. So.
This book is a valuable resource for sociological study in any case, but I fear some people will not see it is the culture of generational poverty and abuse, ignorance and addictions which is the Evil. You know, those people who are conservatives and Republicans - at least those who can read.