by Amy Friedman | May 26, 2017 | POPS authors
I come from a neighborhood where violence is the answer to everything Where being a project kid is a lifestyle Where girls get pregnant and their baby daddies get locked up in jail I come from a hood where no one wants to see you do better Where loyalty is questioned...
by Amy Friedman | May 19, 2017 | POPS authors
I taught myself how to smoke away my lonely mood, My momma taught me you should always tell the truth, Uncle Freddy taught me how to drink my pain away, My daddy taught me how to lie to my lady’s face, Lil Chris taught me how to flip my weed, Alan taught me life can...
by Amy Friedman | May 12, 2017 | Uncategorized
My father, my homeboy. I look up to him. At age 9, he lost his father. And had to go to work to help support his two sisters, seven brothers and his mother. By eleventh grade he had to drop out to work fulltime and then some. Two jobs. One of his paychecks went to his...
by Amy Friedman | May 5, 2017 | POPS authors
Remember when you could sit on your father’s lap and cry like there was no tomorrow? I remember my dad’s lap used to be my favorite and safest place in the world. He was the one I would run to after school. He was the one who attended all my parent conference...
by Amy Friedman | Apr 28, 2017 | POPS authors
I remember growing up on that corner house where my mama and grandmother fed all of 9th Avenue in South Los Angeles. Every Sunday, my uncles, brothers, sisters, cousins, and homeless people ate in our front yard. My grandmother was everyone’s street mom, someone any...
