OWED TO TESSYA VENITA SMITH

By Gloria DULAN-Wilson

Hello All!

TESSYA VENITA SMITH - Age 12 or 14

Greetings to all my Oklahoma Homies and to all my friends that I've come to know and love over the past several years. I've been going through a challenge over the past few days after having my heart broken over the passing of one of my closest and dearest friends that I have known since the age of 5 in Kindergarten.

Her name was Tessya Venita Smith! We were little raggamuffins who only knew how to giggle and get into mischief – well I got into the mischief - Tessya mostly just watched. 

Smittie – as I called her – was a shy, sweet little kid. When I first saw her playing in the sandbox I knew immediately something was definitely wrong and that she clearly did not belong in our Kindergarten class!!– !n fact, she didn't belong in Dunbar Elementary School with the rest of us. At first I couldn't put my finger on it! What was wrong with her. And yes, there was something very wrong with Tessya. And I was determined to figure it out.

Somewhere around our afternoon nap, where we all laId down on the blankets our parents gave us, it suddenly hit me – and I turned to her and said in a loud voice: YOU'RE WHITE! All the other kids suddenly sat up and looked at her and agreed with me and said - “You're white.” And then Ms. Jones came over and made me shut my big mouth and made us lay down and take our naps.

I don't think I napped – I remember running home after Kindergarten and telling my mother that there was a white girl in our class. And Mom laughed at me and said there definitely was no white girl in my class, or in our school. I argued with her until I realized it was useless. Mind you, I didn't know much about white – but I did know that we didn't have them around here – or in church, or in our block, or anywhere. In fact, we were all chocolate to mocha – but not white. Not that I had anything against white – although I knew there was something because our parents and the adults would occasionally say cautionary things about them.

I was determined to prove my mom wrong. And after Kindergarten the following day, I grabbed Tessya by the arm and dragged her out of her way to my house to prove to my mom that I war right – she was wrong. And there stood poor little Smittie while I was pointing at her and saying to my mom, “Look mommy – see, I told you. She's white!”

Mom started laughing herself silly and tried to explain why she was so much lighter than I was. It was one of those teachable moments that I will never forget. Tessya's grandfather was an African American who had married her grandmom, who was Irish – and they had six girls, one of whom was her mom. So my mom explained that Tessya was Negro (we weren't Black for another 50 years), because her grandfather was Negro. Then she told me to apologize to Tessya because I had made her feel bad. Of course it never dawned on me that she was not happy about my pointing out her color. So I apologized. And told her I liked her anyway and I had decided that were going to be friends. And we were - that friendship lasted from the age of 5 until she made her transition on August 29.

I would always drag Tessya into my misadentures. We would make doll clothes, paper dolls, mud pies, braid hair, and as we progressed through life, I would help her with her homework and she would help me with mine – especially math because she was a mathematical genius. And wherever Smittie went there was Leotis, her elder brother who had a  birth defect because he was deprived of oxygen to the brain.  Smittie always took responsibility for her older brother because he couldn't fend for himself.  He was nearly 9 years older than she was.  She was always telling me how much Leotis loved me.  Smittie looked out for her brother with so much dedication and devotion, we all admired her and welcomed him to our events.  Her compassion and maturity when it came to looking out for her family was legendary.  She would go to the ends of the earth for them.

We played jacks, hide and seek, Tarzan (yes we had a rope swing and would jump from it into the middle of the back yard. We biked all over Oklahoma City, roller skated, and had a great childhood. When we hit adolescence and had to deal with styles, boyfriends and all the things we do in those days, Smittie and I would compare our boyfriends and try to problem solve some of the adolescence angst that we couldn't share with our mothers. Black people in Oklahoma were conservative – that is you followed the rules of decorum, manners, respect for your elders, etc. Sassing adults, rolling your eyes, sucking your teeth would get you a backhanded slap across your face. Or you'd be sent to get a switch to get a licking. Needless to say, Tessya never got a licking, or a smacking. If her grandmother told her to not do something, that was it! My mom used to have to call her grandmom to get permission for her to stay at our house for dinner! After school we'd get a cast iron skillet, some oil and some raw popping corn and sit down in the middle of our living room floor and “sniggle and giggle” as my mom characterized it. 

 And we were that way practically all the way through junior and senior high school. At that time we had “boyfriends.” I was dating Wilbert Polk. I remember the day I told her that I was going to quit Wilbert because I was outgrowing him. I gave her all the reasons why I was too mature for him and needed someone more “serious.” We ate the popcorn and contemplated how I was going to tell him, and how we thought he'd react. So she asked me when I was going to quit him. I had to think about it for a moment, and decided that I would do it on Friday so I could have Saturday to myself. After a few more mouthfuls of popcorn, Smittie said: “Glo. Are you really serious about quitting Wilbert?” When I responded, “Yes!” She took another handful of popcorn and said: “Can I have him?” I looked at her for a minute and thought about whether it would be cool for her to date Wilbert after I broke up with him, and said: “You really want him?” “Yes, I like him.” “Okay! You can have him. But don't tell him. He might not like it.” As it turned out, though, Wilbert and Tessya were made for each other. They stayed together throughout Junior and senior High and later got married. Eventually they had four kids – three daughters and a son. 

As teens we partied together,  mostly at our friend's homes, or in the gym after school.  We had one of those friendships where our door was always open to her – she was the extra sister. Of course I was always getting into trouble and Smittie was always begging my mom to let me go to some event or another.  "She won't do it again Mrs. Dulan.  I am watching her," she'd say.  I never made such a promise because I didn't want to lie to my mom.  After a few hours of begging, my mom would finally give in and let me go. 

That bit of news was never discussed until we were well into our forties. But it was the kind of ride or die friendship we had – even when we hadn't seen each other for eons. All it took was a bag of popcorn and we could resolve anything.

When we graduated high school, I went away to college. Smittie basically stayed in Oklahoma with Wilbert, who had become a successful entrepreneur. I didn't see Smittie until 20 yearslater when she was living in DC and working in the government. I was working with a Black newspaper, and saw her coming out of an office. It blew my mind to see an Oklahoma Homie in DC. What a great reunion. She was with her daughter Terri who was in college at the time.

We got right back into our old habits as if we had never been apart – although this time I was dragging her all over DC to parties, receptions and events. I tried like everything to persuade her to either stay in DC or move to New York. She and Wilbert were no longer together – she was just beginning to test the feelings of being independent. She had gone to Paris and other places and was really beginning to love the freedom.

I invited her to New York to hang out with some of my friends and meet my kids. We had a blast. But then she decided to return to Oklahoma – and no matter what I said, I could not change her mind. Over the next few years we'd communicate via phone and email. I kind of knew things weren't totally together – but she would never totally share how things were going.

The last time I saw Smittie was at my Mom Ruby Love's funeral in 2014. Smittie was working and had not been notified of her transition. But I knew there was no way Mom could be buried without Smittie being there. That was the last time I saw her – ten years ago. Whenever I posted a Blog, I'd send her a copy; and always made sure I sent her a birthday greeting. We were actually both Aries – I was March 21 and she was April 19^th. But she was genteel and mild where I was talkative and wild!

I guess I always thought Smittie and I would one day sit on the front porch in rocking chairs and talk about all the stuff we had seen and done. I was definitely prepared for her to not be here to finish the journey we stated so long ago when we both were five.

The thing that troubled me most was that as sweet as she was, she was not given the respect and sweetness she generated in return. Our little sister friend who would give you the shirt off her back, did not let us know the distress she was enduring until it was too late. I was upset because we were taught to be tight knit in Oklahoma City. We were a family, a community. We might gossip, but we weren't malicious. Our parents were friends who tried to make sure we had a quality of life and quality friendships. We were taught that we could share – yet Tessya didn't feel she could come to me or any of us – except for Judy – when she was most in need. She probably felt she was imposing on us. And that's not who were are – or were – in Oklahoma City.

I truly hope she's much happier where she is now – with no more angst, avarice or strife. She deserved to be treated like a queen. And she's now in the only place when she can be absolutely guaranteed that she will be. With the Ancestor/Angels and her beloved grandmom, Ms. Burns.

Rest in peace Smittie – I am going to miss you muchly.

Your sister friend GLO

 

Tessya 

We've been best friends through thick and thin and I thought we'd end up sitting on a front porch somewhere in a rocking chair with grey hair talking about all the things we did.  I'm going to miss those conversations.  You should have told me you had other plans.

To all my Oklahoma Homies - we have to stop letting death be what brings us together.  We have to make it our business to keep in each other's business so we can keep in touch.

There's never been a generation like ours =

NOW THAT YOU KNOW  - 

WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT!

STAY BLESSED &

ECLECTICALLY BLACK 

 

Gloria DULAN-Wilson