By Ricky Dorvil
I guess I could tell you how hard life has been, how depressing and overwhelming the world seems. I could tell you about how my father died when I was 15 or I could tell you how I became HIV+ at the age of 19. But, no, I will save you the time and empathy. I may sound blunt or even rude, but do not judge me just yet.
Here I am with a mind filled with thoughts and a stomach filled with knots, or maybe it's the gas; or maybe it's the thought of sharing a piece of myself with you guys, and my eyes constantly filled with tears. As a young man I managed to learn the values of working because of my mom. We (my sister and I) would go meet up with her to help her clean several classrooms she had at an elementary school. Did I like it? Hell no! But did she need the help? Hell yes. She was doing that for us. She was always trying to give us what she didn’t have and there were days I felt like it was never enough. I was a major spoiled brat.
I've been introduced to many things that haven't been beneficial for my health nor for my mental stability. And, on the flip side of the coin, I was also introduced to things that have been beneficial. The USA was presented to me in 2011 as a place to find a better life. I lost my job after a major recession hit The Bahamas. l couldn't continue my mission of obtaining my associates degree as a Registered Nurse during that time. I couldn’t ask the government for a loan because I was considered a foreigner in the country I was born and raised in because even though I was born there, my family was of Haitian descent. When I moved to the USA in January of 2011, I managed to find a job as a construction worker. No ma’am, I hated that job. A year later, I found a job as a cleaner at a Haitian restaurant. I was saving my money and taking steps to becoming a part of the USA. At this point, I didn't know what a flu or cold was. I had no choice but to take those words out of my dictionary. The only phrase that I became familiar with was “work to survive.”