Host: Jenifer Hixson
[overture music]
Jenifer: [00:00:12] From PRX, this is The Moth Radio Hour. I'm Jenifer Hixson.
In this hour, we're going to visit the realm of teenagers and young adults as told in StorySLAMs all over the country and abroad. As we review Moth SLAM stories, we've noticed that many people choose to tell stories from these years in their lives. What is it about being a teenager that remains so vivid and feels so story worthy? Maybe it's that everything matters so much when you're a teenager.
Our first story is set in Africa, Nairobi, Kenya to be exact. But I was struck with how very familiar this story sounds. Like, it could easily be set in Nebraska or Denver or New Jersey, where I'm from. Like, maybe if I didn't have impressionable young children, maybe I'd have a very similar story to share.
Muthoni Garland told this at our StorySLAM in London when she was visiting from Kenya. Here's Muthoni Garland, live at The Moth.
[applause]
Muthoni: [00:01:08] Hi. Wow. I want to tell you about a story that happened where I grew up in Nairobi, which is a fair distance from here. I'm going to take you back almost 40 years ago. It's always shocking to me when I realize how old I really am. But anyway. [audience laughter]
I was a teenager, 1977. I was crazy about an American musician, and her name was Millie Jackson. I don't know if any of you know Millie Jackson, but she's the one who sang, (If Loving You Is Wrong) I Don't Want To Be Right. I mean, I can't sing it, but I adored that song. I don't know why, because I was a very sweet, well brought up Catholic girl and all that. [audience laughter] But there was something about that song that just spoke to something in me.
Anyway, 1977, and I hear in the news that Millie Jackson is coming to Kenya to perform. We'd never heard of such a thing. We didn't even know it is real or it's one of those con people doing some show, doing something. But we decided, and this was a whole neighborhood community where we lived [audience laughter] that we're going to sneak out. It was the first time we'd ever done such a thing, but we were going to sneak out.
I was 16, and we were going to sneak out and go and see the show. So, lots of plans afoot. [chuckles] I tell you it was serious planning, okay? Because where we lived, it was like a row-- I don't know how to describe it in English terms, but anyway, it was like a row of mezzanine. Does that make sense? Anyways, double-story height, but they're all connected to each other? Yeah? We were about six different houses on the road that we were all going to break out that night, okay? [audience laughter] [chuckles] We all had plans, because I don't know if you know this, but Nairobi used to have a reputation. Thank God, it's died away, but it used to be called Nairobbery. It was very unsafe. [audience laughter]
So, all the houses, there were very high walls. Very, very high walls. When I say high, 10 feet high, at least. And so, sneaking out involved removing the glass from the louvres on the second floor, which I never know, because in the UK, I think second floor is first floor. It's mezzanine. I don't know, the floor above this one. [audience laughter] So, anyway, so [laughs] we had to remove the louvers in the afternoon, very gently, so that we don't break any of them, and then tie these sheets from our bed. All this was planned anyway. So, tie these sheets from our bed and somehow propel ourselves, which now I understand is called abseiling. [audience laughter] But anyway, propel ourselves through these louvers and onto this wall that dissected up the houses. So, onto this wall and then lowered the sheet such that we would be able to reach it when we come back.
Anyways, [chuckles] so get onto this wall and somehow-- I can't remember now. There was a guy who lived next door, his foot was six inches shorter, one foot. One leg was so shorter [chuckles] and I can't remember why it was him who was responsible for lowering us once we got onto the wall. [audience laughter] He had to hold us up. Anyway, cut a long story short, [audience laughter] we all made it. That says something about the power of neighborhoods that work together, okay? We all made it. There was a few little risky ones. We had to go help a bit more, but we made it.
Anyway, so we go off to this concert and it was in the new Kenya International Conference Center. It was this huge ball. And the turnout, I think the Americans overestimated the ability of Kenyans to sneak out. [audience laughter] Our parents were not the type to say yes to this foreign disruption of our culture, okay? [audience laughter] So, we got what people pay a lot of money for, and we were right at the front and we danced all night. It was fantastic.
I'll just say this, we made it back. It was long, it was hard, it was arduous. We made it back. At least, in my family, we did. One did get caught. [audience laughter] But in my family, we did. The only thing is, the following morning, my father's reading a newspaper at the breakfast table. And on the cover is this Millie Jackson, and she's wearing a white suit and big sweat stains. [audience laughter] My father is just saying, “How terrible these people come, look at the culture they bring. It's this disgusting, look at this.” [blabbers] We're just fascinated at the photograph, because right there in the front, all of us, all of us. I recognize every single person on that road cheering on Millie Jackson. And that's my story. Thanks for sharing.
[cheers and applause]
Jenifer: [00:07:20] That was Muthoni Garland, live at The Moth StorySLAM in London. Muthoni says that her father never discovered the truth about the concert. She's sad that she didn't save the newspaper article and photo. She was too intent on destroying the evidence. I spent a little time looking for it. Maybe someone out there can find it. Let us know and we'll add the photo at themoth.org.
Muthoni says the year was 1977 and the paper was either Nation or Standard. When she's not scaling walls as a Millie Jackson fan, Muthoni Garland is an author. She's published over 40 books for children, two novellas for adults and several stories in literary journals.
[(If Loving You Is Wrong) I Don't Want To Be Right by Millie Jackson]
Next up, we visit a StorySLAM in Pittsburgh, where we partnered with Public Radio Station WESA. This is a story that might illustrate why parents worry so much. It's a dangerous world out there. Quick warning, the story involves a predatory individual. Here's Joann Kielar.
[applause]
Joann: [00:08:29] If you live in Pittsburgh, you know the north side. And yeah, if you know the north side, you're probably familiar with the Garden Theater. [audience laughter] When I was little, my big brother used to take me to the Garden Theater on Saturday mornings. They showed 101 cartoons on Saturday mornings. I'm old. When I was a little older, that's where I saw my first Clint Eastwood film, A Fistful of Dollars. But by the time I was a teenager, the Garden Theater was a porn joint. About that time, our neighborhood was being dissected to make room for 279 North. [audience laughter]
Out of high school, I worked at Allegheny General Hospital, which is down there by the Garden Theater. I used to walk home on the North Avenue, turn onto my street, walk home. It was a long street. And the day I'm thinking of, I was probably dressed in a little white uniform and I had some platform shoes that I shouldn't have worn to work. But I was a secretary at the hospital. I started walking down our street. And by that time, the street was nothing but a hillside with a lot of empty houses, except at the end where I lived, because people had moved out. And the other side was a big city cinder block wall that blocked us from the construction.
So, I'm walking down this street all alone. And at one point, I looked behind me, and I realized somebody else was coming behind me, but I kept going. I don't know, something made me look back again. The person behind me was a little closer. I don't know how old he was, maybe 30. He looked old to me because I was 18. He looked shaggy too. Didn't look like a good person to be behind me. And the third time I looked, he was much closer and I started walking faster. When I looked again, he was close enough that I could see he was stringy hair, greasy cords.
Now, I could hear him. And he said, “I'm coming from the Garden Theater. You know what movies they show there.” Yeah, I knew what movies they showed there. He said, “Why don't you help me out?” Grungy, greasy corduroys, the kind that have the cords wearing off. And now, he's working the front of his pants and he says, “You know, you're a pretty girl.” I probably was at that time. And he said, “Come on, give me some help.” He said, “Give me a hand here.”
I didn't know what to do. First of all, I had the platform shoes on, I couldn't run. And my house was still over the ridge. Nobody would have been home, but my mother watching her soap operas. No cell phones in those days. Just me and the wall and the hillside and this guy. Well, I do have my own particular resourcefulness, and it came to me. It came to me. It was the muse. I don't know how I did it. I don't know how I made myself do it. But I turned around, I looked this pathetic creature right in the eye, and I said, “You know, I'm coming home from work and I always walk home this way. And about this time of day, my brother usually comes out on the porch. He worries about me. He's a cop, and he's seen a lot of bad things happen to young women. If he doesn't see me coming on time, he gets the dog and he starts walking up here to meet me. I don't think you want to meet my brother?”
I don't know where I got the courage to do it, but I turned my back on him and I kept walking. When I got up to the ridge where I could see my house, I turned around, and I don't know how fast that guy had walked to catch up with me, but he must have gone twice as fast to get away from me, [audience laughter] because when I looked, he was like way down the street somewhere. I was never so glad to see my mother and the guiding light, let me tell you. [audience laughter] [audience cheers and applause]
And that day I said to myself, if I ever have kids, I am going to tell them every scary fairy tale in the world, [audience laughter] because there really are big bad wolves and they're in the woods and they will eat you up. I'll tell you something else. There are giants who will steal all your money, so they can live in a palace while you're starving, and you know that. [audience applause]
What I learned that day was that a story can make you cry, it can make you laugh, it can entertain you. But that day, a story saved me. It saved me. I love being here, and I thank you for listening to my story.
[cheers and applause]
Jenifer: [00:13:43] That was Joann Kielar. She still lives in Pittsburgh and has worked in the arts for her whole life. She says her children and grandchildren are her pride and joy and she fills their heads with stories as often as she can.
[whimsical music]
Coming up, more teenage stories about love, nerds and fashion, when The Moth Radio Hour continues.
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Jay: [00:14:24] The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by PRX.
Jenifer: [00:15:11] This is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Jenifer Hixson.
[00:15:14] And we're showcasing stories from and about teenagers. Our next storyteller speaks to another rite of passage, the massive and all-consuming crush, you remember those. Moses Storm told this story in Los Angeles, where we partnered with Public Radio Station KCRW. Here's Moses Storm.
[applause]
Moses: [00:15:33] When I was 13 years old, the family business was yard sales. And two questions come up with this, is how does a family of five live off yard sales alone? And the answer is, we didn't. We were very poor. And two, how do you have a yard sale every week? Eventually, you would run out of stuff, right? It's like simple supply and demand. Well, what we would do is we would go to rich neighborhoods, and when they would throw out stuff that was basically garbage, we would fix it up a little bit, clean it up and then sell it back to them. [audience laughter] Yeah, like a modern-day Robin Hood, if Robin Hood had no trouble going through people's garbage.
So, one day, we're in Bluewater Bay, Florida, and we come across this, a particularly good pile of junk. I know it's a good pile, because my mom always had a saying. Every time you come across a good pile, she'd look at me and be like, “Sometimes it pays to be poor.” [audience laughter] And you're right. That doesn't make any sense. But the sentiment behind it was that, you know, we had scored big.
So, we're at this pile, and this girl comes out that lives in the house and she's like, “Oh, I got more stuff to give you, guys.” She finally sets this stuff down, and it's honestly the most beautiful girl that I've ever seen. Her name is Caitlin, and she's 17. I'm shaking as I'm thinking about it right now. [audience laughter] She's honestly that beautiful that just your whole body vibrates, and you feel amazing and you feel like you want to throw up. She's the beautiful that makes you want to do just stupid things.
So, I immediately retreat back to our van, and I'm hiding in the van, because I don't want my future wife to see me like this, because you never hear that story at a wedding, like, “Oh, how'd you two meet?” [audience laughter] “Oh, he was going through my garbage.” [audience laughter] No. So, a couple minutes go by, and my mom comes back with all this stuff in her hand, she's like, “I got to load all this stuff up. Go back and get her number.” “What?” She's like, “You got to get her number. When her parents get home, she's going to give us more stuff.”
So, that's the first time I got a very beautiful girl's phone number under the worst circumstances. I eventually developed this relationship with Caitlin. She would call us and check in with us, make sure were doing okay. I would look for any excuse to talk to her. So, when she asked us if we could be her senior project that year, [audience laughter] she was the kind of beautiful that made you do stupid things. So, of course, I said yes to this. And to celebrate, we went over to her house, it was her family, and we were going to celebrate this and they were going to cook us a dinner.
I go over to her house, and it's like nothing I've ever seen. She got this huge house. It looks like a different planet that had been decorated by Bed Bath & Beyond. [audience laughter] And of course, the other rich family's just looking at us like we're animals in people clothes as we're eating. [audience laughter] I'm like, “What's the little fork for? Little food?” [audience laughter] But me and Caitlin actually hit it off at the dinner. We have some inside jokes already about panda bears. I'd tell you, guys, but you wouldn't understand.
So, after the dinner, we all take a photo together with all the gifts that she's given us. This is like part of her senior project she took us on for the holiday. So, we all take a photo with her. And a couple days go by, we're talking on the phone. I said, “Hey, you should send me that photo.” And she's like, “Oh, wait a couple weeks. I got a surprise.” And I'm like, “Oh, cool.” I know what this is about. She's probably going to frame the photo in a heart frame or something, or panda bear. Girls are stupid.
I get the photo in the mail, and it's attached to a paper. To be more specific, it's attached to the paper. And to be even more specific, it's on the front page of the paper, our local paper, with a large headline over it that says, “Local poor family gets saved by high schooler.” Surprise. It's impossible to look cool in front of this girl. After that, she invites us to her homecoming game. She invites me to the homecoming game, and of course, I say yes to this. I'm like, “Sweet.”
She invites us to the game, and she's like, “Yeah, we'll tape off some seats for you and your family.” And I'm like, “Oh, no, we don't get to bring them. You pretty much got what they're all about from the dinner and stuff. they might feel weird, because we have this connection, Pandas.” [audience laughter]
So, we go to the homecoming game, and we're being recognized left and right. People are like, “Hey, it's local poor family.” You know, like the worst-case scenario. I'm hiding my face as much as possible. I'm telling my siblings like, “Let's just break it up. At least not stand in the same order we were standing in the photo. [audience laughter] Let's get a little separation.”
Caitlyn comes up. She's in a letterman's jacket, and of course, she looks amazing and she's like, “I got a surprise for you, guys.” And I'm like, “Oh, these are never good.” [audience laughter] And she's like, “I got us a great spot for the parade.” I'm like, “All right, whatever.” There's a homecoming parade. The parade, it's like the marching band, the football team and king and the queen, the guard on the track. So, we got to the track, and we have a very great spot. We're right by the band. I'm actually joking to my sister, I'm like, “We have such a good spot. People are going to think we're in the parade.” It's at that point that I'm handed a banner. [audience laughter] Yeah, we're in the parade. Just then, [mimics trumpet] The parade starts.
And if you were there that night of the homecoming game, you could have seen an entire football team, an entire marching band, a king and a queen being led around the track by a very reluctant local poor family. [audience laughter] I get off the track, and I'm embarrassed. That is like so real inside, like, I'm just walking off the second I'm alone, I just know I'm going to cry, I just know it. I've never felt worse. I'm walking out and Caitlin walks us out at the end of the night, and she thanks us for coming out and she tells me that it meant a lot that we came out and we helped her out with this project. She gives me a little kiss on the cheek.
I don't know what it was, but like everything-- She was just so beautiful and everything melted away. All that embarrassment was just gone, because the most beautiful girl in the world kissed me on the cheek. I got to half base. [audience laughter] It didn't even matter that she immediately got into her boyfriend's Mustang. I just remember driving back in the van and I was so pleased. I just remember thinking, man, sometimes it pays to be poor. Thank you, guys.
[cheers and applause]
Jenifer: [00:22:25] That was Moses Storm in Los Angeles. Moses tells me that he's lost touch with the girl in the story. But since he's now a comic and often on the road, hey, maybe their paths will cross. Moses often stages social experiments that poke fun at narcissism. These days, Moses is not taking stuff from the curb, but admits that every time he passes a trash pile on the street, it still catches his eye. To see a picture of Moses as a teenager at one of his family's yard sales, visit themoth.org, where you can also link to his website to see where he's performing.
Our next story is all about awkwardness. An awkwardness so deep it speaks its own language. Laura Gilbert’s story ends in adulthood, but starts when she's still a teen.
[cheers and applause]
Here's Laura, live at a StorySLAM in New York City.
Laura: [00:23:15] [sighs] In the anatomy of a computer program, there are three parts. There's the input that the user has to put, and then there's the processing of that input via whatever algorithm is in place and then the program hopefully produces some output. So, when life here gets overwhelming or messy, which is pretty much always, sometimes I like to frame things in relation to these three steps.
For instance, I'm on the train and someone says hi to me, that would be the input. And then, I process it via my own algorithm, which is somewhat Dr. Seuss machine-esque and I think, okay, well, I haven't seen this person in a long time, but I'm getting off at the next stop. So, any conversation I start is going to be meaningless, but how do I convey to her that I actually do care about what she's been doing.
Maybe I should suggest coffee, but that'll sound like an empty promise, which it probably is because I'm a huge flake, because I can't keep. That's why we haven't talked to each other in so long, because I've let this friendship dive. Because I can't commit to anything that's why I'm wasting the best years of my life in this dead-end job and I can't. [audience laughter] And now, I have to say something, because she knows I'm having an existential crisis on the train. So, that's the algorithm. [audience laughter]
And then, I produce the output which is, “Oh, hey.” [audience laughter] So, perhaps, this does not demonstrate my ability as a computer programmer, but I am apt when I program in Java, because I took a lot of computer science classes. At the high school, I went to computer programming competitions and I just loved the irrefutable logic of code in what is otherwise like this anarchist acid trip, completely abstract thing of high school. So, it should come as no surprise that my first and only relationship in high school was with computer science boy. It went exactly as you would imagine. We only communicated in binary. [audience laughter] We would hold hands, while we were petting my dogs. So, we would just submerge in the fur and then touch hands and then freeze. [audience laughter]
And the kissing function, we had not debugged yet, so we didn't do a lot of that. And the input was me looking at him and the output was furious, blushing. I just remember being floored that someone liked me. And so, that translated into this enormous, overwhelming foreign data that I couldn't really process. And so, when we split up, because we went to different colleges, I was not devastated, because I just remember trying to figure out this algorithm for how I was going to process like, “How did some this mystery, this data? How did he like me?”
The funny thing about computers, is that they don't need to be loved. And the funny thing about people who relate to computers, is that you start to subscribe to the same view. And so, I carried that unprocessed data all through college, accepted, no new input, thank you very much. And then, that leads us to what I like to call the syntax error incident of 2012, [audience laughter] where I was at my cousin's wedding and I was enjoying the anonymity that comes with being a guest at a wedding, because nobody really cares what you say at a wedding. They ask questions, blah, blah, blah. “What do you do? Who are you?” Immediately forget what they're saying.
So, I'm pretending to be wildly successful when they ask what I'm doing in New York City, the Big Apple. I'm not saying that I'm wearing a hand me down dress from my mom's friend and I'm definitely not saying that my shoes are from a literal thrift store. And then, I meet this guy. In his introduction, he's a friend of the bride, he says that he's a Java developer who works at an online investment company. That was the input.
And no matter how many times you run yourself through test cases, you're going to come upon situations where you produce a wildly unexpected outcome, errors is what we call those. [audience laughter] And an outcome that makes you immediately quick the run of the program and you go through your personality line by line and you figure out, where in the Sam Hill did this happen? [audience laughter] And so, he gave me the input. And without missing a beat, where did this algorithm come from, I responded with my output and I said, realizing this handsome stranger was also a computer programmer, I said, “Oh, well, system.out.printline, [“Hey”]; [audience laughter] [audience cheers and applause]
Which I spoke to him a line of code that would literally print the word, hey. And then, I entered an infinite loop of regret. [audience laughter] So, I exited the conversation swiftly, and I turned around, and I walked away and I thought to myself, okay, well, that occurred. [audience laughter] But when you have an experience where you are so yourself like that, you have to stop feeding yourself that bullshit input that's like my algorithm needs to be changed in order to be lovable. You start to feed yourself this thing that's like, “Okay. Well, I'm the kind of girl who opens flirtatious interactions with a line of code and possibly that's lovable.”
I don't even want to tell the end of the story, because the point has already been made that everyone has a lovable algorithm. But incidentally, this boy is now my fiancé and we're writing this error filled short circuiting program line by line, but we're debugging it. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Jenifer: [00:28:22] That was Laura Gilbert. Laura is a dancer and writer who lives in Brooklyn.
Our next story is from an actual real live teenager, Diamante Ortiz. Diamante was attending the Young Women's Leadership School of Brooklyn, when the Moth's education team came in to do workshops. She developed her story in school with our instructors and later performed it at a Moth high school GrandSLAM at the Nuyorican Poets Café.
[cheers and applause]
Diamante is going touch upon another of the important pillars of teenage development, Autonomy of Personal Style. Here's Diamante.
Diamante: [00:28:58] Wow. Okay, I'm not Beyoncé, but hello, everyone. [audience laughter] Wicked nervous. Okay. [chuckles]
[cheers and applause]
Ever Since I was 12, I always asked my mom this question, “Mom, can I please have purple hair?” I would always get the same response, “Wait until you're older.” So, I saw this as a definite maybe. So, one day, I just had enough of the same old reply, so I came up with another question, “How old?” And she says, “Well, you have to give some time and thought into it. And until you're 16, then maybe we could talk about this.” So, then I'm like, “Okay.”
So, fast forward to my 16th birthday last year where I did nothing at all, except ask my mom this question, “Mom, can I please have purple hair?” And she said, “Well, you've given it some thought and you probably wrote it 40 times in your journal. So, yes, you can have purple hair as your birthday presentation.” And in that moment, it was like the combination, like 4th of July fireworks and I wanted to do that dance like in Napoleon Dynamite where it's just like-- [audience laughter] It was amazing. We worked out the logistics.
So, I would get my purple hair the first weekend before school started. So, I would come in with a whole new head of hair and a whole new me, and it'd be really awesome. I get to the place and my hair appointment is at 12:00, but I come in at 11:30, just pre-hair excitement, I just made that thing. I see my hairstylist. I only talk to him over the phone and I didn't see him in person. So, I see him and he has blue hair. So, I'm thinking, okay, I'm in good hands. [audience laughter]
During the process, you have to bleach your hair first and then put the purple dye in. So, they put all this aluminum foil in for two hours. So, I end up looking like a satellite dish. I could get like HBO and maybe Pandora. [audience laughter] And then, they wash out the hair and then they towel dry it. So, after they towel dry it, I go from the washing station back to the salon chair and I take off the towel. And in that moment, I am blonde. And in that moment, I actually don't see myself. I see my sister.
I have two sisters. One on my mom's side and one on my dad's side. My sister on my mom's side has blonde hair. Her and I, we both look really like similar. We have similar facial features and everything. The only difference, is that she has blonde hair and now I did too. And it was weird. Because when I looked in the mirror, I saw her and I didn't want to be her. Not saying I don't love my sister, I love my sister to death. She is like the most amazing person ever, right up there with my mom and dad.
I was just freaking out, because it was an out of body experience, because it wasn't me. As I was aspiring to be someone else, I was copying someone else and it was weird. My hairstylist saw how freaked out I was, so he was like, “Okay, we're going to put the purple dye on. Just breathe in and out. Do you need a paper bag?” I was like, “No, I'm fine. Let's just get this purple on.” So, then they finally put the purple dye in. And from 2 o'clock to 6’o' clock, I finally have my purple hair and I'm finally completely complacent and happy with it.
My mom takes 40 pictures as she's doing right now. [audience laughter] It's a combination of prom and graduation. She's probably like, “Oh, [Spanish language] [audience laughter] Love you, mom. It's finally me. I finally saw myself the way I want to be seen. I could show people how I want to be seen, rather than a perception of how they want to see me, just like a weird girl. But now, I'm a weird girl with purple hair, so it's-- [audience laughter]
So, then the next day I go to my sister's house in the Bronx. I didn't tell her that I was getting purple hair. So, I knock on the door first ever. And then, she opens the door and she's like, “Hello--” She's speechless for about 10 minutes. And then, she has three kids. So, I have two nephews and one niece, five-year-old, four-year-old and a one-year-old. The four-year-old has the first reaction, and he says, and I quote, I kid you not, “Is anyone going to love you like that?” [audience laughter]
But then, my five-year-old nephew says, “Don't worry, Mante,” that's my nickname, “I love you like that.” [audience aww] And then, my one-year-old niece just goes, “Ha-ha-ha.” [audience laughter] Like, I'm probably a My Little Pony in her head or something. [audience laughter] And then, my sister finally comes around and has her reaction. She's like, “Oh, wow, you have purple hair. Mom must really trust you. At that age, I could only get blonde hair. So, you're two years ahead of where I was.” It was really weird.
Thinking about it to this day, I didn't really think much about it. She’s like, “Okay, its purple hair. It's going to turn black anyway.” I think I answered my own thought where it's high school and it's my time to actually have purple hair, because I know when I get older, I'm going to go off to college, and be more professional and start wearing gray clothes like corporate America. [audience laughter]
My mom actually trusted me enough to express myself and actually be who I want to be, not how others would perceive me as what they wanted me to be as. It was something that I never fully realized until I look in the mirror every day. My sister taught me that. And of course, I became the petting zoo on Monday at school, and there was a line of people just touching it. It's like, “Oh, my gosh, you got purple hair? I thought it was a myth. You can't really trust these 7th graders,” just spreading rumors all around. It was amazing, because in that moment I felt like it was actually me. It reminds me of this S. E. Hinton quote, “You still have a lot of time to figure out who you want to be.” I'm actually glad that I'm still figuring it out with the purple hair. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Jenifer: [00:35:46] That was Diamante Ortiz. She’s currently studying political science and community development in college. I'm happy to say, her hair is still a beautiful shade of purple. To see a picture of Diamante and her violet mane, you can visit themoth.org.
Next up, what better place to reflect on your teenage years than on Facebook in the months leading up to your 30th high school reunion, that and a father who throws a wrench in all your romantic plans, coming up next on The Moth Radio Hour.
[upbeat music]
Jay: [00:36:38] The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. And presented by the Public Radio Exchange, PRX.org.
Jenifer: [00:37:26] You're listening to The Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Jenifer Hixson.
This next story is about being teenage in Texas, and negotiating with a very strict parent. Christine Gentry was raised in Texas,- [audience cheers and applause] -but told this story at the Boston GrandSLAM, where we partnered with WBUR and PRX. Here's Christine.
Christine: [00:37:46] So, I'm sure a lot of you think that your dads make dating worse than the intrinsic nightmare that it already is, but y' all didn't grow up in Texas, okay? My dad is a couple inches taller than I am, but probably one of the most intimidating men on the planet. He's an ex-Air Force Vietnam vet who became a mechanic, because he was much better with his hands than he was with his heart.
He's allergic to feelings. So, my dad started running romantic interference very early in my life. I remember a night when I was five or six, and we were having dinner at the closeted gay music minister's house, and I was down the hall playing with his son and we were playing kiss tag, which I'm sure you can imagine is tag with kissing.
As soon as my dad found out, he came to the back room, he grabbed me by my ear and drugged me out to the hallway and said, “You ain't never to play that game again.” And I said, “Why, dad?” He said, “Because kissing is where babies come from.” [audience laughter] Okay. Like, all good Texans, my dad didn't let me date until I was 16 years old. I clearly remember the day that this rule was set. I was about 13. This really cute boy at school had asked me to meet him at the mall, swoon. I had to ask my dad for permission, but he was changing the oil on the Suburban.
So, I went out to find him. I had to ask his knees, because he was under the car. And so, I kicked the ground and asked him if I could go to the mall, and he didn't respond. There was just some grunting and then he shimmied out from under the car, grabbed that pan of dirty oil and started walking right up back to the house. I tottered after him, like maybe he didn't hear me. He gets to the porch where this bright cluster of daffodils had just bloomed. He locks eyes with me and pours that dirty oil all over those flowers and he says, “Absolutely not. Not till you're 16.” I was like, “Okay.” [laughs] I was crushed like imagining this boy at Spencer's with another girl. [audience laughter]
So, I didn't have my first real date until junior year of high school. It was homecoming dance and I was like, “Okay, this is it. I'm going to have my first kiss tonight. We're going to get married the summer after graduation. We'll start having Christian babies. It's the way that God wants it.” [audience laughter] And of course, it had apocalyptic rained the night before this dance. And so, our crappy front yard was just a mud swamp. My dad's solution was to crisscross some two by fours between the sidewalk and the porch. And so, this poor boy had to balance beam it to our front door. And then, once he got in, it was just four walls of guns and dead shit. [audience laughter]
My dad sat him down, and he put tube socks on both of his hands and said, “I don't want these coming off all night.” [audience laughter] Pulls a shotgun off the wall, opens it real casual like and asks the boy to look down the back of the barrel to see if it was clean. Needless to say, I did not get kissed that night. I was home by 09:30 and I cried myself to sleep. I was like, “I am never going to get married. That's it.” Like, “This is it.”
In the 20 years since that night, I have brought literally two humans’ home to meet my father. The first one might as well not have had a name, because he was only ever referred to as noodle arms. [audience laughter] This includes all in person interactions. [audience laughter] The second one hadn't even been in our house for five minutes when my dad sat him down and handed him a grenade. [audience laughter] He had emptied the powder from the grenade, but of course, the boy did not know that. He sat down next to him, pulled the pen and said, “Got a couple questions for you.” [audience laughter] Things didn't work out with those boys.
I didn't blame my dad, obviously, but he wasn't helping. So, I stopped bringing people home. It got to the point where I didn't even want to talk to my dad about who I was dating or anything personal going on in my life. My last breakup was awful. Awful. It was like one of those eviscerating ones that make you lose sleep, and weight and hope in mankind. And I called my mom, sobbing, told her about it. She said, “Do you want to talk to your dad?” I was like, “No way.” And the next day I get a call from the front office and they said, “I have a package from 1-800-Flowers.” And I said, “That's weird.”
I went to get it, and it was from my dad. He had googled his way to my work address and had this adorable little bouquet of multicolored tulips sent to my school. And the card said, “Just wanted to cheer you up. Just thinking of you. Miss ya. Want to kiss ya,” [audience laughter] It was all in one run on sentence, [audience laughter] and I'm an English teacher. [audience laughter] It was the smallest, cheapest bouquet I have ever received. [audience laughter] But as far as I know, my father has never sent flowers to anyone. Not mom, not grandma, no one. And it was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Jenifer: [00:43:58] That was Christine Gentry. She holds a PhD in English education from Columbia University and currently serves as director of teacher development for a network of public high schools in Boston. To see a picture of the bouquet her dad sent, visit themoth.org.
Our final story was told at a GrandSLAM in Minnesota. The theme was Breaking Point. Here's Javier Morillo.
[cheers and applause]
Javier: [00:44:36] August 2015. There wasn't a hint of resentment or awkward self-awareness, when I accepted the invitation to join the Facebook group of my 30th high school reunion. And I thought, this time I think I can go. The first agenda of business, the group polls a question, “30th reunion, 2017. Puerto Rico or the United States?” Most of the class of 1987 now lives on the mainland. Maybe out of a sense of duty or nostalgia, we've all left as part of the brain drain on the island, but it surely can use our tourist dollars. And so, we decide all together that it will be there.
I joined the group without even thinking about it. I could barely even remember why it felt so stressful to even contemplate attending any of the prior reunions. On the Facebook group, our back and forth is interrupted for a second. You may wonder like, what's my role in this? Where did I fit in this? So, I was the bilingual kid who considered himself very, very deep. [audience laughter] The kind of kid who read 1984 in 1984 without a hint of irony. [audience laughter] Everything was very, very serious. As serious as my Flock of Seagulls inspired haircut. [audience laughter]
I was a tortured teenager, and my torture was important as important as Morrissey lyric. Yes, I listened to The Smiths, and The Clash and The Cure. So, we are going back and forth on the Facebook group about where to have the reunion and such, when all of a sudden, it's interrupted by a screech, a primordial scream, all caps, “FUCK YOU ALL, YOU DAMN HOMOPHOBES. [Spanish language] ALL OF YOU HAVE HURT ME. I HATE YOU CLASS OF 1987. A BIG F U. ALL OF YOU, EXCEPT BRENDA AND MAYBE ROSEMARY AND A FEW OTHER. BUT THE REST OF YOU, A BIG F U.” [audience laughter]
Meet Ricardo. Ricardo's Facebook page did not have any pictures, not even an avatar to suggest who he is, but I know who he is. We all do. We all knew that this rant, which seemingly came out of the blue, actually made perfect sense. He was this kid who, even though he'd gone to Antilles his entire schooling since elementary school, he never was comfortable in English. He didn't get good grades and didn't have a lot of friends, and all of them were girls. That's what I knew about him, but it wasn't much. A very long time ago, I had decided to not know a lot about Ricardo.
Now, as long as I had known him since the 4th grade, Ricardo could never do what I could when I felt scared, just make myself invisible or blend in. Ricardo always stood out. Even when we were like eight-years-old, kids would call him Pato. In Spanish, Pato just means duck. But in Puerto Rico, and only in Puerto Rico, it's also a slur. It is the slang word for faggot. And Ricardo--
I think about it for a second and comment on his page and I say, “Ricardo [Spanish language].” But I think it's important I say this publicly. I thought about you so much these many years since Antilles, because I too am gay and I think about all those times when I saw people being unkind to you and I feel deep shame that I never spoke up. I then sit back, and retreat to adolescence and waiting to see how many likes my comment will get. [audience laughter]
People, there's a lot of activity on the page. People start apologizing to Ricardo Ramon, an army brat like me. He apologizes to Ricardo and then to me. He says that he regrets so much how he treated us that he now has taught his kids to stand up for others who are being bullied. Ricardo messages me privately and says that I have nothing to apologize for. He says, “You were always kind to me.” We remember things differently. I think as I recall all those times that I saw him being bullied and walked in the other direction. Our reunion is next year in Spring. I messaged Ricardo and asked him, “Will I see you there?” “We'll see,” he says. Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Jenifer: [00:50:04] That was Javier Morillo. Javier is a labor union leader and activist in Minnesota. As president of SEIU Local 26, he fights hard for everyone he represents. He also created Wrong About Everything, a podcast that brings together two conservatives and two progressives to dissect the week's news.
Now, about Ricardo. Javier said he was touched to learn that many of his classmates had reached out to Ricardo personally. Boys who had bullied him apologized to him directly and he had long conversations on the phone with a few classmates. Javier says that he is forever grateful to Ricardo for his strength and for charting a path for being different way before he was comfortable doing the same.
That's it for this episode. We hope you'll join us next time for The Moth Radio Hour.
[overture music]
Jay: [00:51:07] Your host this hour was Jenifer Hixson. Jenifer directed the stories in the show along with Maggie Cino, Catherine McCarthy and Micaela Blei. The rest of the Moth's staff includes Catherine Burns, Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin Jenness and Meg Bowles. Production support from Timothy Lou Ly.
Moth stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Our theme music is by the Drift. Other music in this hour from Millie Jackson. Blue Stahli, The Album Leaf, Stellwagen Symphonette, Gustavo Santaolalla and Penguin Cafe Orchestra. You can find links to all the music we use at our website.
The Moth Radio Hour is produced by me, Jay Allison with Viki Merrick at Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. This hour was produced with funds from the National Endowment for the Arts. The Moth Radio Hour is presented by PRX. For more about our podcast, for information on pitch your own story--