Mothers-Sisters/Daughters-Friends

Fannie & Lillian A Different Life The year was 1971. My name is Lillian, and I am Fannie's oldest daughter. My mother is thirteen years older than me, and I had a blast growing up with Fannie. She insisted that we call her Fannie because she thought she wasn't old enough to be anyone's mother. Our life wasn't always ideal, but once Fannie discovered who she was and her purpose in life, our lives changed for the best. It was the best thing that ever happened to me and my sisters. I have three sisters: Raquel, Victoria, and Olivia. Neither one of us knows who our father is and probably never will. My best friend in the whole world is Pamela; she is Ms. Evelyn oldest daughter. Pamela and I became friends before our mothers did. A lot of the mothers would not let their children play with us, but Ms. Evelyn had a way of loving everybody, and her kids were the same way. As a small girl, I remember a lot of people coming to our house. Fannie ran a makeshift club. She sold liquor among other things, and there was always a card game going on. On Friday nights, she sold fish dinners, and on Sunday she sold cakes and pies. Everyone loved her cooking; they just didn't like her. Fannie always had a problem with women because most of them saw her as "a good time girl" and many accused her of being with their husbands or men. Which was probably the case, but to my mother it was just a transaction. It was always about money. She had four children to take care of with no assistance from the government or anyone else. We didn't know Fannie's mother or any of her family. It was just us and Fannie, and she did everything to make money. Fannie called it her hustle. On Thursday night, we would help prepare for Friday fish dinners. She would say, "Come on girls we got to get our hustle on!' She told us all our lives, "Everything has a price" and she was right. There was a price to play cards, price to play dice, and if you wanted something to eat it was a price for that too. Friday and Saturday nights was like Grand Central Station. People were moving in and out all night long. My sisters and I were given strict instructions not to leave the back area. My mother would have a time for us to use the restroom because she wanted to make sure she could watch us. We also had codes names in case a fight broke out and she needed the gun. Since I am the oldest, it was my job to get the gun to my mother. I know that sounds dangerous for a child so young, but my mother showed me how to use the gun and when it was in my care, the safety was always on. My mother called her gun 'Spot', and it was the code word, and my sisters and I knew what to do. I would get the gun to my mother as fast as I could, and they would hide in the closet. I would join them after I made the delivery. My mother was a knife toting gun carrying woman and many knew that about her. She called her switchblade Mr. Pieces. I asked her one day why did she call her knife Mr. Pieces and she responded, "Cause I will cut a nigga to pieces!" Because my mother had such a reputation of being a bad-ass, fights hardly ever happened. My mother also told us if anyone approached or touched us in an inappropriate way to let her know right away. And, that's exactly what happened one Saturday night. I was going to the bathroom. It was an unscheduled trip, but I thought I could run in and out without my mother knowing. Mr. Joe saw me and walked over to me asked if I wanted to make a couple of dollars. I shook my head no, then he grabbed me and proceeded to touch my private body parts. I screamed and my mother came running. She looked at me and him and said, "What the fuck going on?" I was crying, but I manage to say, "Fannie he touched my candy." I didn't know at the time that my sister Raquel had ran out of the back door to Ms. Evelyn's house when she heard me screaming, but I was so glad she did. In a single movement, my mother had Mr. Joe in a choke hold with Mr. Pieces at his neck. Then she screamed at me, "Spot!" I went into her room and got the gun. All this happened in the small hallway, but by the time I came back with Spot my mother had Mr. Joe in the front room. She was screaming, "Get out! Everybody get the fuck out of my house now." Everyone ran out except for a few of her loyal men friends, and they were trying to talk her into letting Mr. Joe go. She said, "Y'all muthafuckas need to leave. This muthafucka don touched my chile. I'm the only hoe in this house. You want some pussy muthafucka you see me. I'm go kill this muthafucka tonite. Y'all hear me. Lillian anybody try to stop me you put a bullet in their ass!" I was crying and shaking. I had never seen my mother so mad. I wanted to drop the gun and run, but I was trying to be brave. I was ten years old, and I have never been that afraid in my life. When I saw Ms. Evelyn and her husband Mr. Bill come in the front door, I ran right over to her. She took the gun out of my hand and handed it over to Mr. Bill.