For you to understand who I am and why I feel what I feel, you have to know my past. It was a difficult one and that’s a pretty big understatement, I think. But that’s for you to decide. The next blogposts will tell you the story of my past. It will be about my mom, my dad, about my sister and brother, my neighbourhood, my schooldays, about my aunt and grandma and of course about me.
I grew up in a lesser neighbourhood in The Hague, The Netherlands. My flat stood on a town square with shops, cafés and snack bars. We had a lot of troubled kids hanging around, smoking pot in front of my door, cat calling…everybody and making trouble in the neighbourhood. Even though they seemed dangerous or annoying to a lot of people, they were actually always nice to me when I was still -10.
Growing up I didn’t really have good friends. I had people I hung out with. Kids from my class and some kids that lived on my square. I didn’t really feel like I fit in, but at least I had people to hang out with. And boy, those people were interesting. I had a few friends who’s moms were prostitutes or exotic dancers. One of those friends lived on my square. She was older than me and her mom was a classic prostitute: Long blonde hair, big boobs and tight clothes. Their home was filled with glass and porcelain, everything was white and shiny. Sometimes when her mom opened the door, she was wearing nothing but a thong. Keep in mind that I was 6 or 7 years old. I had a lot of sleepovers there. Sometimes we had to sleep in another room, because the room of my friend was used as a growhouse. There was a day when the mom opened the door and the whole house was smashed up. Her pimp was mad because of…I don’t know. But he was pretty mad.
One day I went to this friend’s house to have another sleepover. When I arrived, her mom immediately took us to the car. We went to a customer. Yes people, a prostitute’s customer. Fortunately the customer had a son with a Playstation. So whilst the son, my friend and yours truly were gaming, my friends mom was “earning money”. At some point there was a period this friend wasn’t allowed to play outside. The reason was, I kid you not: there was a high risk my friend would be kidnapped by a customer or the pimp. I can’t remember which of the two it was.
Another friend of mine also had a mom who was a prostitute. Whilst the previous mom I talked about was a pretty high-class prostitute, this friend’s mom definitely wasn’t. The house was filthy and in bad state, the family itself was too. My friend had two sisters. Before I met them, they all lived in a children’s home. Apparently a friend of their mom was supposed to babysit them for a weekend, but instead she brought them to the children’s home and she reported the mom and dad. Eventually they got to stay with their parents again and that’s when I got to know them.
I didn’t particularly like going to my friend’s house, there was always a vibe. There was anger and aggression in the air. It scared me. When I was older, I found out that both parents were meth addicts, the dad was the mother’s pimp and the children were abused regularly. On a regular basis my friend knocked on our door at night, because her parents weren’t home yet. Especially in winter or when it was raining, she stayed with us for a couple of hours. We watched movies, had snacks and then she returned home again. I never knew if her parents were home, so maybe she wandered the streets at night. I don’t know.
As you can imagine by reading about these two friends and their mothers, I’ve seen a lot of things I shouldn’t have seen at such a young age. And these are just a few stories about two of my friends. There is a lot more to tell about the neighbourhood I grew up in. You’ll see.
