It was my 14th Christmas, in the year 2006, when I unwrapped the nonfiction book that changed my life. I could tell I was holding a book because of its shape and because it was gifted to me by my older sister, Laura – the most well-read person I knew at the time. One thing was for certain: I was about to embark on an emotional journey that would be unlike any other I had read before. Laura and I have always communicated our shared childhood trauma and concealed anguish through books, music, and films, but never through our own words. This kinship continues today, nearly 14 years later. When I pulled back the foil wrapping paper, there was a burst of colors that stood out amongst the sea of discarded wrapping paper on my living room floor. They were sprinkles. Thousands of neon-colored sprinkles decorated the cover of the book, and it read A Piece of Cake: A Memoir by Cupcake Brown.
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When I was in sixth grade, my language arts teacher assigned the class to write their autobiographies. I was 11 years old, not yet completely corrupted with shame, and I wrote the most honest tale of physical, sexual, and psychological abuse from the perspective of a child. I wrote about living in poverty. I wrote about my grandmother’s house in southeast Texas, where I frequented often, how it sat on the edge of an alligator-infested bayou, and the details of the thrown out toilets and bathtubs that were repurposed as planters in the front yard. I wrote about my father’s violence, alcoholism, and his deranged sense of humor, like the time he threw an alligator in the bathtub with me when I was five. I wrote about when my mother finally left him and we drove to Georgia for sanctuary in a 1996 Chevy Astrovan with no air conditioning or seatbelts, because my brothers and I had no choice but to lay on a bed of black garbage bags.
My paper was returned to me with a note from my teacher: “Kindra, you’re a great writer. I’m impressed with your imagination, but the assignment was to write an autobiography, not a work of fiction.”
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I was nervous to read my new book. Cupcake Brown did not live in the public eye, like the celebrity autobiographies I incessantly read. There was also no film adaptation to watch first, like I did when I read Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt and Girl Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen. Reading blind meant I had to completely immerse myself in her words and thoughts, reliving each painstakingly crafted memory with her. There was something menacing about reading the dark, intimate secrets of a complete stranger. I did not know who she was, yet I was holding her life in my hands: her innocence, her trauma, her grief, her addiction, her resilience; and I would be damned if I dismissed it – dismissed her – like my former teacher did to me.
A Piece of Cake is the most difficult book I have ever read, but it is also the most powerful and inspiring – a remarkable true story of suffering, survival, and resilience. Shortly after she wakes up and finds her mother dead, 11-year-old Cupcake is placed in the foster care system; but there is nothing caring about it. She soon navigates the urban world of prostitution, gangbanging, and life-threatening addiction that continues into her adult life. What starts out as a heart-wrenching tragedy rapidly turns into a rollercoaster of unadulterated life experiences of a woman who has gone to hell and back and lived to tell the tale. Getting her life on track was not easy, but she finally found sobriety at 25 before putting herself through law school. She is now a successful lawyer. Cupcake’s strong will and determination defies all odds and proves that an underprivileged woman of color – who has undergone every kind of abuse imaginable – can rise from the ashes and inspire others to do the same.
It has been nearly 14 years since I have read Cupcake’s memoir. This Christmas, I will be 28 – double the age I was then with double the experiences, many good and many bad. There is not a day that goes by that I am not grateful for the books I have read along the way, written by brave authors, like Cupcake, who make a difference every day by opening up their hearts and sharing their stories. Maybe one day I, too, will be a brave writer and share my story with the world. Maybe it will be published and bound, and even be gifted to a 14-year-old girl by her sister on Christmas morning.
Kindra Stewart is a former U.S. Air Force photojournalist and award-winning writer based in New Mexico. Her writing and photography have been featured in various military publications, The Crimson Thread, and Alamogordo Daily News. She is one of DiN’s nonfiction editors and is studying English with a concentration in rhetoric, digital media and professional communication with a minor in creative writing at New Mexico State University.
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