Exodus International - Just Like My Mother?

Jakii Edwards' life dramatically changed when she was five years old. Her happy life with loving foster parents came to an abrupt end when her birth mother arrived one day with a male friend to take Jakii "home."

I was in shock. No other word can describe the sensation. I don't remember how the man and woman got me into their car, but I know it was a short drive. "I no longer belong to the people who love me," was the thought that stabbed my heart. It was definitely a sobering, life-stopping pain. There was one thing that I remember very clearly. On this nightmare of a day, I firmly resolved that the woman named Dorothy would never take my mother's place.

But Jakii's nightmare had just begun. Her birth mother named Dorothy was an active lesbian who punished her daughter for the smallest infraction.

Only a few weeks after moving, I received my first beating. It happened because I called her by her name, Dorothy.

"What did you just call me, you little yellow witch?" she shrieked. "I told you to call me Mommy! Now go and get R.G.'s belt and meet me in your room!"

I promptly marched down to my grandparents' bedroom to get the necessary belt, but I had no idea what to expect. As I dutifully delivered my mode of punishment to Dorothy's waiting hands, a totally separate person within my mind began talking to me!

"Don't worry, Jakii. We won't cry and we won't run or flinch no matter how hard she hits us," the voice told me.

"Take this, you witch...and this...and this," Dorothy repeated each time the belt slashed across my back, shoulders, arms, and buttocks.

I remember staring out the window as I received the blows, and at the very same time I was also standing beside myself observing the entire traumatic incident. I don't know how I managed it, but I honestly didn't cry or move. Later I named my "other" Jakii Miss Hyde, and "she" was the one who ended up dealing with all of my painful situations.

Despite her preference for other women, Dorothy continued to be intimate with men and became pregnant with another child.

I remember the warm June evening when I saw my mother sitting on the front porch moving slowly back and forth in the glider. She was in her fifth month of pregnancy and I was almost eight years old. A sudden urge came over me. I slid next to her on the glider and laid my head on her arm.

"I love you," I said softly. "Do you love me?"

"Get your head off me," Dorothy spat as she shoved me away from her. "No, I don't love you. I've never loved you!" Her words took my breath away. I had never felt so alone in the world. Miss Hyde posed the difficult questions: "How are we going to survive? Who is going to love us?" I simply didn't know.

By the time Jakii was 15, she was acting as a parent to her younger brother. Their mother often disappeared for weeks at a time.

Dorothy would drop by once a month to leave us a few quarters. With the grand sum of fifty cents I would buy fresh hamburger meat for fifteen cents, a large can of pork and beans for fifteen cents, a loaf of bread for a dime and finally a nickel package of Kool Aid. Sometimes the neighbors would loan us some sugar. We tried to make this precious food last for three or four days, but for the rest of the month we became scavengers.

Whenever Dorothy stayed overnight with us, we knew something was out of order in her life. Possibly she was between lovers, she was sick, her lover's husband was home, or maybe she just remembered she had two children.

Even without any effort on her part, my mother's reputation managed to follow me through my high school years. I was never invited to parties or sleep-overs at my classmates' homes, and the kids knew more about my mother than I really understood. When I was fourteen, some students began making fun of me by telling me that my mother was a "bull-dagger." I knew Dorothy dressed like a man and didn't even walk like other moms, but I had no idea what the term meant.

Finally Jakii asked a close family friend whom she called "Uncle Bobby" for an explanation.

"That terms refers to a woman who likes to keep company with women rather than men," he explained, then added his own thoughts. "Maybe they were born different."

I thanked Uncle Bobby for his insight, but my next thought filled me with panic. I directed this question quietly toward God.

"Lord, does that mean I have to be like Dorothy?" The question had often crossed my mind, but this time I trembled with the idea. If Uncle Bobby was right about his idea that Dorothy had been born that way, did that mean that I would turn out that way, too? This thought began to haunt me and in my mind I screamed, "No, no, no!"

By age 20, Jakii was living in California with a man separated from his wife and family, and became pregnant with his child. Her live-in boyfriend was abusive, and after her son was born, she moved out on her own to escape her dysfunctional family background and her boyfriend's abuse.

Life in my twenties continued in the same pattern. I would enter relationships, be the loving, giving person they expected for a while, and then one day they would do something to hurt me. Suddenly they would find themselves face-to-face with a fire-breathing dragon who had no fear of death. I thought I had to remain tough in order to survive, but there was also a softer side of me that I was afraid to show to anyone other than my son Durksen.

Several years later, on a trip back to Pittsburgh, Jakii confronted her mother about the years of neglect and abuse during her childhood.

I demanded to know why she chose to leave me alone with a young child to raise while she partied with her friends and lovers. Also, I insisted on knowing if she ever loved us and why she had always put her lovers and their families before her own children. She delivered no answers.

I told her I was doing just fine considering the fact that I was a mental wreck now, thanks to all the years of abuse I had suffered while living with her. "My main problem, thanks to you, is I don't know how to love anyone at all!" It was like talking to a wall. I left her house that day without any additional insights, but I felt about two thousand pounds lighter.

After becoming a Christian, Jakii realized that she would never really be free until she had forgiven her mother.

I had been praying in my bedroom and was asking the Lord to teach me to love Him. I felt directed to look up 1 John 4:20 where Jesus was asking His followers how they could say they loved Him and still hate their brother. After I read the verse a few times I said, "Lord, I don't hate my brothers."

His reply in the Spirit was, "No, you hate the lady who brought you into this world. You cannot hate her and honestly think you can love Me."

I was floored! I asked God to forgive me, then immediately I picked up the phone and called Dorothy. I asked her to forgive me for hating her and being angry with her for so many years. This time I didn't bring up her shortcomings. Whether Dorothy had been right or wrong, I had no right to judge her and keep her imprisoned. I asked her to forgive me for presuming to judge her lifestyle. I meant every word that I said from the bottom of my heart.

When I let Dorothy off the hook by not being her judge, I was also helping myself out of bondage and into freedom. I was discovering my walk with Jesus was going to be a real adventure. With each new step came the pain of revelation about myself, but then came the joy, hope and healing.

God has a special place in His heart for those who have suffered as I have. I'm now confident that I will always be my Heavenly Father's little princess, and because of His great love for us, He will continue to heal and ultimately shape all of us into His image as long as we invite Him into our lives. To God be the glory!

Additional Information:
Adapted from Like Mother, Like Daughter? by Jakii Edwards (Xulon Press/Exodus Publishing, 2001). Copyright 2001 Jakii Edwards. This book may be purchased from Regeneration Books: "Resources" at www.exodusinternational.org.

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