Leaving Breezy Street

by Brenda Myers-Powell

  I had to grow away from that. I had to walk away from all that. I didn’t get me through, God got me through. If He hadn’t, I would never had held my lost baby in my arms.

  * * *

  Of course, I wanted to know how they found Bree, or who found who. Between Stephanie and Peaches, I got the whole story. See, Peaches had kept on Ancestry and they came back with a hit that said we did not find your dad but we found a sister or a first cousin. It was Brenda. Before Peaches called little Brenda, she called Stephanie. Stephanie was about to go out dancing. Peaches said, “Stephanie, I think I found Momma’s daughter. And I need you to be on the phone, because I want you to hear things. Maybe I’m too excited. I want you to hear what I hear.”

  They all got on the phone. They were all talking to Bree, and she’s saying all the things I had told Stephanie over the years.

  “My name is Brenda. I’m half Hispanic.” All she knew was that she was born in Los Angeles, and she was left in the hospital by her mother. And she had been looking for her.

  Peaches said, “I want Momma and Bree to meet.”

  “Okay, how do you want to do it?” Stephanie said. Well, Mother’s Day was coming up. It was two months away. Stephanie never spilled the beans, even when I had come over her house and cussed her out. Stephanie told me she was tempted to whip out a picture of Bree she had in her phone. A new picture. But she didn’t, because she didn’t want to ruin the surprise and it was already in motion for Bree to come.

  Stephanie and Peaches had set up a date for Bree to fly to Chicago, and they invited her sister, Jenna, to come as well. They didn’t want Bree to feel uncomfortable. She had been looking for me for a while. When I met her, she said she had sent me a letter on Ancestry: Hi, I might be your daughter. But I had never seen it. I’m not a big messenger person. Someone told me it might not have gone through, because you have to accept somebody on the messenger thing. You have to friend them and everything. I told her when we finally met, “I assure you, if I had gotten that message, I would have been there on a rail, on a jet.” The only thing I had left to do on this earth was to find my daughter. And at that moment, the first thing that come into my mind was that God showed me who He really was. It’s like He looked down on me and laughed and then said, “Huh, I told you I was God, didn’t I?” This is God; look at Him do this whole thing. I mean, she never did a day in the system; I had asked God for that. The lady had adopted her right out the hospital. And the woman’s name was Brenda, too. Maybe that’s why she didn’t change Bree’s name. And some of our mannerisms are the same. The wigs, the big laugh. It’s crazy. Little Brenda was loved well.

  Three months later, Bree’s birthday was coming up, so I went to California to celebrate it with her. And I met the woman who gave her what I could not. I absolutely adored her. I went to Things Remembered, the jewelry store, and we had stuff engraved. I had a jewelry box made for her, and on it I had engraved: Thank you for doing what I could not. That’s what I gave her as a gift. I just wanted to let her know that she was the best part of Bree.

  * * *

  So we are now trying to all make a go of it. We decided to make Peaches’s birthday this girls’ night celebration. We are ladies who know how to party. We raise our arms and lift a glass. My daughters, my friends, celebrating how we got through. Here we are, Lord. Together. I have everybody in my life who is in my front row and on my top shelf. Everybody was there, even my grandbaby Mimi. It was like something most women just dream of having. Coming from where I came from and to have that type of celebration with my daughters and my granddaughters, I can’t describe it. I have been very, very lucky in regards to my family. Cause now I’ve got everybody.

  The party was amazing. We went to Bolingbrook. It’s this nice part of Chicago that has all of these restaurants. That night, we all went to this restaurant. They went and dropped me off, so I didn’t have to walk so far. Then they went and parked the car. I’m the old one. I’m standing there, waiting for them to come. I saw Bree walking down the street, in between the cars, and she sang something. And she did a little dance. I thought to myself, she is crazy as heck; I do that kind of stuff all the time. Sometimes I have a song in my mind, and when it hits me, I’ve got to sing and do a little dance. And there she was doing the same thing. Anyway, we did dinner; there was a lot of laughing. We tried to tell her as much about ourselves as we could. She and Jenna told us about them. Bree still hasn’t figured out what to call me. And I’m alright with that. It was a beautiful time.

  After she left, I had to keep telling myself it was real. I couldn’t believe God loved me that much. But He does.

  I’ve never been ashamed of my past because for some reason I always knew that my past was not my fault. I always knew that the circumstances that I was given were not me. I knew there was always a better life for me. There was something ahead of me. And what I was going through was a struggle, and things that were happening to me were NOT Brenda, but they were Breezy. And that Breezy would take me through it.

  My grandmother Ma’Dea raised me. She had a beautiful laugh. It was strong and full of life, it also made you want to laugh, too. Everybody knew if Ma’Dea hit you, you were going to get knocked out. So didn’t nobody mess with her.

  This is the only picture I have of my mother, Ernestine. She was beautiful. I wish I could have known her but she died at sixteen years old. I was six months old.

  Around 1973, I started slipping between family and the game. I started to get close to my dad, but over at his house, babies were crying, kids were going to school. That was square life.

  As a little girl, I always wanted to be beautiful. I grew up and I wanted to be all the Supremes, because I had a song in my heart. I still got that song in my heart.

  By the time I was sixteen, I had both my girls. Peaches (left) was a quiet spirit and from an early age could see my spirit. Prune (right) loved me unconditionally and was protective of me.

  I loved, adored my uncles, especially Joe (center). I was always talking to him, all day, every day, and he never told me to cut it out. I just followed him around and he let me.

  Brothers were wearing the Ivy League look and were sharp as hell. My uncle Lee was one of them.

  This was my wife-in-law, Elsie. Elsie was my Caucasian gold card. She got me into upscale hotels and elite clubs. In those times, around 1976, a Black girl alone couldn’t gain entry into such places.

  At the Players Ball. I was so excited to be going at the time, though, looking back, it was the grimiest, most stupid bullshit. My pimp Sonny had broken my arm a few weeks earlier, so I put sequins over the cast. Because even with a broken arm my goal was to be cute.

  When tricks get caught with us, the police don’t dare take them to jail, they take us to jail. Cause we’re “the problem.” Black women are the PROBLEM. Not this white guy from Skokie or Wilmette, or wherever.

  In California, what really saved my life was rolling with the Do-Low Crew. They were my family. I still see California Stephanie (left) and Jazzy (right).

  I met Stephanie Daniels-Wilson when I was in treatment in 1997 and my face was all messed up. She treated me like she already knew me. She quickly became my ride or die, my friend for life. A lot of times, when I tell my story, people don’t believe it because so much happened. Stephanie believed me.

  Stephanie and I started the Dreamcatcher Foundation because we wanted to help girls who were caught out there the way I was. Dreamcatcher, the documentary about me and the work we do, won a Sundance Award in 2015.

  Here is when I decided Keith, who I married in 2005, was a keeper: I got sick and it was below zero outside. He didn’t have a car but he walked to my house to bring me comfort food and medicine.

  Jeremy was my little stinker. He was five years old when we adopted him.

  When I think about it, God gave me three angels: Bree (left), Peaches (center), and Prune (right). In spite of my flaws, they were praying and rooting for me to come back to myself. For me to come back to love.


  Surrounded by my loving family. It took so many arms reaching out to me to get me to this point. There are so many different ways women show their resilience. We can overcome things in life, such as molestation and sexual assault, that we too often keep inside. But even through the pain we still give love, we still nurture, we still provide. We stand STRONG. And we keep reaching out to uplift one another. That’s a real woman. We persevere.

  Acknowledgments

  First, God is first. And I say that because for a good part of my life I approached Him as if He were third or fourth. Without God I would not be here.

  Stephanie Daniels-Wilson is second. She is my best friend who heard this book inside me before anyone else did. She pushed, supported, and encouraged me to write my story. You always saw the genius in me, friend.

  And then, when I want to acknowledge and give praise, I get all the numbers mixed up. Who comes first, who’s second? How can I enumerate all the loves of my life? My daughters Ernestine, Ruth, and Bree endured this journey with me and still love me for who I am. Yes! You are my first, best and treasured. To my aunt Josie: this story would read quite differently if you hadn’t raised my daughters up to be the outstanding ladies they are today. I have granddaughters now, Amir and Avery Grace, who are my reasons for the season. Amir, when you were born, I asked God to allow me the chance to be a better grandmother than I was a mother. And He answered me: okay, Brenda Jean, I hear you. I’d like to give a special acknowledgement to my husband for giving me the love I thought I’d never find and for loving me for who I am today, not what I used to be.

  God is first because He wasn’t through being good to me. I have three other amazing kids, LaShonda, Lil Keith, and Debron, who I adore. Three more grandkids, Jason, Kaden, and Kamren, who are more reasons for the season. And He wasn’t done blessing my life. God gave me my bonus child, Jeremy Powell, who keeps me going with all his energy and in the process lets me live my second mommy-hood.

  My journey may have started lonely, but God made sure I didn’t walk my roads all by myself. I’d like to give a special acknowledgement to those that helped me along my new journey. To Edwina Gateley, who I call Mother because she embraced me. I stand on the shoulders of the great woman she is. Yolanda Daniels Rocket for being a wonderful sponsor, friend, and mentor—one of the strongest women I know. May she rest in peace. Carolyn Groves, you helped nurture me into becoming a woman; Samir Goswami introduced me to the human trafficking movement and recognized my leadership ability. You helped me soar. I found my voice with you, friend. Thank you, Christine and Mike Evans, for thinking I’m special. Special shout-out to the Sophia’s Circle ladies, Chicago Alliance Against Sexual Exploitation, Cook County Sheriff’s Office, Chicago Coalition for the Homeless, and Rex Alexander, who gave me guidance through difficult and happy times in my life.

  I want to acknowledge people who believed in me: Rachel Durshlag, Marian Brooks, Ann Sweeny, Dawn Trice, Lisa Cunningham, Olivia Howard, Tina Fundt, Anne Ream, Jerry Riles, Bill Leen, Eric V. Harwell, and all the officers from Division 17.

  When I decided to tell my story, when I decided to be brave and tell the truth, I had so many to catch me with open arms. A special acknowledgement to Lisa Stevens. You are a beast. The Dreamcatcher film couldn’t have been done without you. You, Geralyn White Dreyfous, Regina Scully, Barbara Duncan, and women making films tell our truths with open eyes and open hearts.

  To everyone on the Holt team: thank you for all that you did for this book.

  To Pat Eisemann, my fabulous publicist: thank you for getting this book out into the world and into the hands of readers. Nicolette Seeback: thank you for this gorgeous cover.

  Of course, I have to give a big thank-you to Rosemarie Robotham, a talented writer in her own right, for introducing me to my writing crew.

  Steven Ivy: thank you for your great counsel.

  And to seal these acknowledgments I’d like to thank my super women: April Reynolds, who wrote this book from my heart—you are the BOMB; my amazing protective agent, Jennifer Lyons, and my die-hard editor, Sarah Crichton. You made this all happen and believed in me not only once but twice.

  Now I want to acknowledge why I wrote this book—for every little girl who has had her choice to be innocent taken away from her. WE DO RECOVER, and then it gets real.

  While writing this book we found my daughter Bree, and my final acknowledgement is to Ms. Brenda Butler, the amazing woman who adopted and raised my daughter when I could not. I am forever grateful to you.

  About the Author

  Brenda Myers-Powell has been advocating for victims of sex trafficking since 1997. She considers herself fortunate to have survived many challenges in her life and to be able to use those experiences to assist others in their personal journeys of empowerment and recovery. She co-founded and leads the Dreamcatcher Foundation as its executive director. She’s also served on the board of several other organizations including Sophia’s Circle, CAASE, and PART. In her role as a community organizer, Brenda rallies and trains victims to speak with legislators to bring change for their communities. A seasoned public speaker herself, Brenda regularly gives talks on poverty, violence against women, and criminal justice reform. She has worked on every level to bring greater support and awareness for women who have been abused, even leading several research projects related to violence and the exploitation of women as the key researcher. She has been recognized with several honors including the Chicago Coalitions for the Homeless Recognition Award, the Illinois Coalition for Victims of Sexual Assault award for community activism, and the 2010 Chicago Foundation for Women Impact Award. In 2020, she was selected to serve on the United States Advisory Council on Human Trafficking. Brenda’s work with Dreamcatcher and victims was the focus of the Sundance Award–winning documentary Dreamcatcher. You can sign up for email updates here.

  * * *

  April Reynolds has taught at New York University and the 92nd Street Y and is currently teaching creative writing at Sarah Lawrence College. Her short stories have appeared in several anthologies. She has gone on assignment for the US State Department to lecture on creative writing and her own works. Published by Metropolitan Books/Henry Holt in 2003, her first novel, Knee-Deep in Wonder, won the Zora Neale Hurston/Richard Wright Foundation Award and the PEN American Center: Beyond Margins Award. Her second book, The Shape of Dreams, is forthcoming. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Introduction:

  Every Road Has to End Somewhere

  Part I: It starts in the family

  1. Life with Ma’Dea

  2. Where’s My Shine?

  3. Suburban Bullshit

  Part II: What’s in the mirror is not always who you are

  4. The Making of a Real Ho

  5. When the Gorilla Pimps Want You

  Part III: Fake love can never own you

  6. The Beginning of the Lie

  7. Loving the Knockout

  8. The Gangster Pimp

  9. Love in the Game

  Part IV: Running

  10. Chi Town’s Finest

  11. The Tricks of the Trade

  12. Keep It Moving

  13. The Unforgivable Things We Do

  14. Famous in California

  15. Friends? How Many of Us Have Them?

  16. The Facts of Life

  17. Madison Street

  18. Chicago, Take Two

  19.
Chicago, Take Two, For Real

  20. Me, Living with Me

  21. A Funeral for Breezy

  Afterword: I Make Plans, God Laughs

  Photographs

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Copyright

  LEAVING BREEZY STREET. Copyright © 2021 by Breezie LLC. All rights reserved. For information, address Henry Holt and Co., 120 Broadway, New York, N.Y. 10271.

  www.henryholt.com

  Cover design by Nicolette Seeback

  Lettering by Joseph J. Ruggiero

  Cover photograph courtesy of the author

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

  Names: Myers-Powell, Brenda, author. | Reynolds, April, author.

  Title: Leaving Breezy Street: a memoir / Brenda Myers-Powell with April Reynolds.

  Description: First edition. | New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2021.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2020034256 (print) | LCCN 2020034257 (ebook) | ISBN 9780374151690 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780374719401 (ebook)