Tamika

08.11.2013

Franklin Institute

She measured me with her huge half-closed eyes making me feel inferior. I said, “I will pay you two dollars!” She gave me a huge smile and nodded, “Thank you; I would very much like that!” The high pitch of her voice surprised me. She lifted her head even higher, and I started my work. I didn’t know how to strike a conversation; the questions pupping in my head seemed irrelevant or offensive.  Really, if I was sitting on the bench and someone all of a sudden asked me if I had a family and a place to live, wouldn’t it be inappropriate? “I have children,” said Tamika out of the blue. “Do you?” “Yes. Seven. They are your color.”  “Excuse me?” “They have your people’s skin, white.” “Um... Are you from around here?” “I grew up in Philadelphia. Philadelphia is the city of my ancestors. My family lives around here. They hate me. They take advantage of me. I have a case manager. Here,” and she took out of her pocket a bunch of plastic cards. “I see,” I said. But she opened them like a fan, Access, Medicare, ID, debit. “You have a lot,” I said. “I live on Market and Fifth, I have AC.” “Cool!” “I am waiting for my husband. He is coming here to pick me up. He is working now, but he will be here soon. He is my case manager. “ I smiled. “I travel a lot. I’ve been all over the country and in Mexico, too,” she added even before I could think of my next line. “I go on vacations and move around. My family is in Cleveland, Ohio, I grew up there.” She waited a little longer, “My family have a respect for me. They sent me a card. They love me and have a respect. Are you done? Because my husband is coming soon. He will be angry with you.” “I am almost done,” I said. “Thank you,” she said. I looked at her, “May I take a picture of you holding this portrait?” “I would love that. Thank you.” “Can you turn your head that way?” She turned her head and thanked me again. I could have taken her pictures forever; her husband never materialized.