Host: Amanda Garcia

Amanda: [00:00:04] Welcome to All Together Now, Fridays with The Moth. I'm your host for this week, Amanda Garcia. This past Wednesday, I celebrated my one-year work anniversary as the associate producer for The Mothworks program here at The Moth. What a wonderful and wild ride this past year has been. 

Two weeks ago, the Black community all over this country celebrated Juneteenth, the oldest nationally celebrated holiday commemorating the ending of slavery in the United States. This year's celebration of Juneteenth felt different. There was a spirit and fervor that is carried into the protests in the weeks that have followed. It serves as a reminder of the strides that have been made by Black Americans and of just how much further we have to go. 

On the podcast today, a story about a moment of freedom. Vin Shambry told this at a Moth Mainstage in Seattle, where the theme of the night was Fish Out of Water. Here's Vin, live at The Moth.

[applause]

Vin: [00:01:11] When I was a kid, I never cried. I never had time to. I was always put in adult situations. Like, the time when I was 12, my mother abruptly woke us up in the middle of the night, tears streaming down her face. We knew that it was time to flee from him. And from that day on, we were homeless and on the streets. But I was the man in charge. 

My four-year-old sister and I would wait down the street in a park, while my mother would scope out the shelters. But those places always had social workers and police at those places, which meant we might get taken away from her. So, most of the time, we'd sleep under a tree in a park.

Living under trees was only hard for the first couple of weeks. I mean, it was early fall, so it wasn't too cold yet. And at that time of year, all we really needed was a layer of cardboard underneath us, a blanket we all shared and plastic on top of it. We had a routine all worked out. Showers at the local swimming pool, free breakfast at school, then we'd walk around with the shopping cart until dark. We knew exactly when the police would patrol the parks. When they were done with their rounds, we could safely crawl into the tree without being seen. 

It was all right until we found the tree. This beautiful 50-foot pine tree. Once you settle yourself in near the trunk, you are immediately hidden by its branches. The tree itself becomes a wonderland of a home. The dirt is smoothed over by all the Portland rain. It felt good. Good enough to relax a little and sometimes sleep. I lay back and look up through the branches of this tree that I call home. I look at my mom and sister amazed at how peaceful they can sleep here. Not a care in the world when their eyes are closed. I admired it, imagining how wonderful their dreams must be. But me, I had to protect them no matter what. As the only man in the tree, it's my duty. So, I never dreamed. 

But tonight, when I watch over them, I think about, with mixed emotions, what I'm about to embark on next week with all of the six-- the Portland Public School sixth graders Outdoor school. A five-day environmental school at a sleepaway camp in the forest. We've been hearing about it since kindergarten. No classrooms, just outdoor learning around fires and s'mores for a whole week. But best of all, I get to have my own bed with clean sheets and a pillow. 

The day I leave for outdoor school is hard on me. I tell my mom, "Now, look, if you're going to walk me to the bus, you have got to leave our shopping cart with all of our stuff behind the market, so nobody sees us." She agreed. My little sister holds my backpack, which is as big as she is. She's always trying to help. I give my mom and sister a big hug and I hop on the bus. 

The conversation on the bus with the other sixth graders is around, who will be the first to cry of homesickness? And they say that at the end everybody cries, because you're so sad that it's over. Cry? What for? This is an opportunity of a lifetime. A bed for a week, clean sheets, hot food at every meal. Nothing to cry about here. [audience chuckle] 

We get there and we are bombarded by cool 16-year-old counselors, [audience chuckle] who actually wanted to hang out with us. They had been waiting here. [audience chuckle] They gave us a necklace made out of a slice of a tree trunk with our names on it. We all had the opportunity to run and jump in the river if we wanted to. What? I mean, I really wanted to. All the kids just ran and did it without even worrying about their clothes. 

I only had two pairs of pants and two pairs of underwear and no quarters for the laundromat. Matter of fact, I don't even know if they had a laundromat. So, I went to the counselor and I asked him. He told me that they would wash and dry my clothes for me and I didn't have to worry about it. And it was okay to run and jump in the river. I felt taken care of at outdoor school. I didn't have a care in the world. As the week goes on, I forgot about my family and the struggles we face. I forgot about the struggles they're probably facing right now. I like not thinking about how hard everything is. For the first moment in my life, I felt like a kid. 

The high point of outdoor school was the competitive game of Tug of War. Now, 10 of us would represent our school to push as hard as we can against the other rival middle schools. I knew that this was my opportunity. The teacher came up to us and said, "All right, kids, raise your hand if you want to go on the front line and push as hard as you can." Nobody raised their hand. So, I did. She came up to me and she said, "Go ahead. You can push as hard as you can." 

I approached the tape to get ready to walk in and take my position. I looked down at my shoes. These are my only pair of shoes. They're actually Nikes, which gives me just enough credibility at school, so the kids don't know I'm homeless. And now, they're going to get really dirty, and I'm going to have to wear them home like that. No, no, no, you don't get it. They're patent leather, white, and red Deion Sanders Nikes that I got as a gift from a girl at school whose dad worked for Nike. I know that next week, the kids are going to see my dirty shoes and know that my family has no money. 

But this opportunity is too great for me to worry about adult things, like trying to find a place to wash and dry my shoes. I don't hesitate for long. I grab that rope in my hands. My feet begin to sink in the mud, giving me the proper leverage I need to pull for my team. Before the whistle blows, I look in the eyes of the rival school, and they're taunting me, saying that I'm not strong enough and blowing kisses at me.

I tilt my head up to the sky and I thank whoever gave me this gift to just be a kid. The whistle blows. I pull with all my might from my team. I hear grunting and screaming, and suddenly, it's over and we won. All the kids are running towards me, picking me up in the air, telling me that I was strong, that I belonged, that I was strong. 

The last night of outdoor school, we sat around listening to counselors tell stories like they do. And one story I will never forget is a story long ago about how all the animals seek shelter from the worst of the storm. Some of them went into the cliffs and some of them went into the caves. But in the end, the mice were left with nowhere to go. So, what they did is they seek shelter in the mighty pine trees. And till this day, if you look at a pine cone, you can still see what looks like their tails sticking out from the bottom. 

Hearing that story, I started to cry. At this point, I can tell that all the kids have noticed that I'm crying and they're all whispering. But in that moment, I do not care. I am too overwhelmed with emotion to be embarrassed. I look around at this wonderful place and my new friends, but I can't help think that I've deserted my family in our tree. I deserted them this whole time and I just realized it. 

My tears were coming from a place of gratitude, from this awesome week, but from the realization that my family needs me and I'm the man in charge. I'm supposed to push the shopping cart with all our stuff. I'm supposed to find the cardboard for us to sleep on. I'm supposed to protect my mom and sister. There's a storm coming and I wasn't there to stay awake. But for five whole days, I got to be a kid. They said at the end of outdoor school, everybody cries. And in the end, I did too. Thank you.

[cheers and applause] 

Amanda: [00:10:28] That was Vin Shambry. Vin, his mom and his sister eventually found a home with a roof and four walls. Vin went on to get a degree in musical theater. He has appeared on Broadway and in several national tours. When he's not on stage, he works as a writer, director and choreographer. He now lives in Portland with his wife and daughters, and he still loves the smell of pinecones. 

Vin's story at outdoor camp reminded me of my own experience at my beloved sleepaway camp, especially when he mentions the cool 16-year-old counselor. Not only were my counselors cool, but they were confident, unapologetically themselves. And a majority of them had been campers just like me. I don't think it was until I was older that I realized what a significant impact it was for me to not only have been encouraged by these women to be myself, but for so many of them to have looked like me. It was imperative to the formation of my identity as a proud Black woman.

I was also lucky enough to have my mother, an alumna herself, work at the camp during the summer while I and my siblings were there. First, as a kitchen chef, and then years later as a director of the teenage camp. She'd always tell me and the other campers, often to my adolescent eye rolling, that the real wilderness was out there. But while we're here, we're home and we're safe. Her words and the camp were my idea of freedom.

Too often, we allow our voices to be silenced. Storytelling is one of the most powerful ways we're able to break the bondage of silenced voices. Here are some prompts to get you thinking about your own stories. How have you been finding freedom during the containment of quarantine? Do you have someone in your life who made an impact on you, whether or not they realized it? How did they shape you into the person you are today? You can find these prompts in the extras for this episode on our website, themoth.org/extras. 

The work towards modern-day freedom continues. The emphasis of resilience and Vin's story resonates as Black Americans are still fighting for justice and equality. On our website, you can find information about organizations working to create safe spaces for Black folks in nature. Head to themoth.org/extras. 

Until next time, from all of us here at The Moth, have a story-worthy week.

Julia: [00:13:00] Amanda Garcia is the associate producer for Mothworks. She's traveled from California to Stockholm producing private events with The Moth. These days, she's thrown herself wholeheartedly into producing online events and learning to play the piano. To find out more about her work at The Moth or request her next song, reach out at agarcia@themoth.org.

Amanda: [00:13:21] Podcast production by Julia Purcell. The Moth podcast is presented by PRX, a Public Radio Exchange, helping make public radio more public at prx.org.