“I was an at risk youth.” Her voice rather matter of fact on the point. She continued, “I felt I had to fight a lot!” The label of learning disabled followed for years. Low expectations came with that – inwardly and from others.
Salone dwelt in the tale of 2 streets, Martin Luther King Boulevard and Anderson Street. On
one hand, Salone had a paternal grandmother and business woman that made her store the family hangout. Her uncles, aunts, and cousins were there. They all participated in the American Civil Rights Movement. She had her parent’s love and influence, especially the work ethic of her father.
On the other hand, she had a God-Fearing maternal grandmother. Salone read the Bible to her on many occasions. This grandmother lived in what turned out to be a place of social warfare for Salone. Life on Anderson Street infused physical and emotional combat into her demeanor before she became a teenager. She fought around the house. She fought in the neighborhood. She fought at school. Name-calling or an offense drew an immediate fight. That was the normal order of business for her and many others. Standing up for yourself in a fist-fight was the culture. It was all personal. Don’t back down. Don’t apologize. Attack.
These 2 mentalities put Salone into a dichotomy that mired her mind in despair and a poor self-image in her heart. She knew life could have and should have been different. Her grades and behavior drew a referral to St. Pius Community Center, an outreach program on Anderson Street. It became her safe haven. There she found dance and a mentor who added thoughts to the positive end of the dichotomy, to start tilting the scale back toward the MLK Blvd. side. When a holiday program came around, Salone wanted in. The director of the dance troop required an audition. Most of the others were older and were more experienced than Salone. Here technique suffered. Her instructor spoke frankly with her about the audition. Yet, she made the cut. The passion and aggression she expressed in the audition made the difference in the eyes of the director.
She changed her look, no more tomboy fight gear. She let her hair grow. Emotionally, she still struggled. Grades, she struggled. Trying not to fight, she struggled. But, she felt like she was making progress. Then, one significant incident nearly put her into desolation from which she saw only one out.
Salone knew a fight brewed in the background. She remembers looking for teachers when she entered the gymnasium. Lots of students… no teachers. She tried to steer clear of a certain group of girls. When confronted by one of them, she tried to leave. Salone fought them all. That fight nearly turned out the school. There was blood. The police handcuffed her and took her to jail. Is this all there is for me? I’m trying to do better. Can I not escape? Am I this worthless? Is this how it ends for me?
This incident revealed that she was not winning the battle between the 2 streets. Undeniably, no if and or buts, no excuses, understand that you do not understand. You may have been there, done that but you are not her. You are not Salone. Those who cared for moved into action, emotionally, physically, and legally.
From that point on life got consistently better. Dance continued to be her outlet. She picked up an interest in film and television in high school. By the time graduation rolled around, Salone was headed to one of the most renowned colleges in her desired field, Savannah College of Art and Design – on a scholarship at that.
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