Name:
Shawnee Renee' Benton (My friends and family pronounced my name without the "w" so those who know me from my childhood call me "Shanee" and those who know my uncle, Freddie Love, call me "Fred's Niece" (LOL).
Your block:
Hannibal Street and 113th avenue (behind the triangular shaped building)
Your favorite memory/landmark/famous (or infamous) icon from Farmers Blvd: I really can't select one location from Farmers that could satisfy the river of emotions that I feel internally for this place that helped to mold and shape me during my formative years. My neighborhood (St. Albans) represented so much. It was a place of self discovery, of childhood exploration and play. It was also a place where I experienced great pain and major disappointments in myself and in my family and friends. I played hard and cried hard in St. Albans. I witnessed much and I grew up fast. The story, I’m sure is a familiar one and must be told so that each of us can remember and reflect.
Some of the places that I consider to be icons from the neighborhood were my own front and back yards. I spent many summer days playing in the grass, digging holes in the dirt, catching lightening bugs, jumping rope and playing with my german shephard Queenie who was my best friend and protector growing up, who loved me unconditionally. . As I reflect on my childhood, Queenie was also my first exposure to death and loss as she had to be put to sleep when she became very ill. I remember mourning her death but never being consoled so I kept it moving. Talking about pain just wasn’t what my family did. Another significant place for me was Hannibal and 113th Avenue where I played endlessly with my childhood friends. I climbed trees, ate fresh picked fruit from the pear and apple trees, played running bases, hide and seek, freeze tag, skelly, softball, baseball, stickball and hot peas and butter. When I wanted to make extra cash I picked flowers (from the neighbors yards) and sold them back to them for a dollar (LOL) I also made store runs for one of the elders on the block; Ms. Hines. I was a tomboy through and through and I thrived on doing everything the guys could do; but better. I bounced from house to house, watching television with friends, laughing hard and getting mad over silly and unimportant things. I had a real childhood that was governed by simple rules; “Play fair and sweat hard until the street lights came on”. It was just that simple. I felt safe on the block and I felt a sense of belonging that has not been matched since. Life was simple and innocent in those days; much different than the experiences that our children are facing during these troubled times.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention Petersfield which was the park where I baked in the sun while I watched, inning after inning, of Little League baseball. I was forced to watch from the bleachers, even though I could run faster and play better than many of the boys on the teams. There were no teams for girls and I remembered feeling slighted and left out. However, I continued to show up to support my cousin Daymion because he was one of the best "all around" athletes that I knew. I lived vicariously through him and I celebrated his victories as if they were my own. Another significant place for me was Mr. Johnson's candy store, across the street from Pits and a few blocks from my elementary school P.S. 118. Mr. Johnson was a positive male figure in the community; an unassuming brother, quietly powerful and loving towards us children even when we got on his nerves. His store was one of the first grown up places that I visited when I started kindergarten and he was a black business owner doing his thing. This was during a time when a five year old could walk safely down Farmers Blvd. without fear of abduction or other negativity befalling them. The neighborhood provided a cocoon of love and covering. It cloaked us in safety and provided us with support. Brothers were respectful and sisters commanded respect. Definitely a different time and a different place.
Finally, there was my favorite spot of all time, O'Connell park. This was a place where black folks gathered, played music and swapped stories and energy. This park was the nucleus of the community where children swam and teenagers and adults played single and double games of handball on the handball courts. There were also full and half court basketball games and plenty of laughter as well as hand to hand combat (fights). Those were the days when kids would fight a fair one (one on one with their fists) and the scariest thing a child might see was a wino or two grown men fighting over a card game. Simple times! Simple times!
Yes those were special days; days of peace and prosperity. It would be easy if I could stay in this place, sharing sweet memories and allowing each person reading this to live in that happy place. However, the full story would not be told if I did that. It's important for a story to have a beginning, middle and an end. So, I ask that you take this journey with me as I share the challenging and painful times as it is a necessary part of our process of growth and evolution to explore the fullness of this story. In the 80s my heart began to break and my demeanor began to change as I watched my family, friends and community begin to waste away. A once thriving and prosperous neighborhood was ravaged by the crack and A.I.D.S. epidemics. Many loved ones were lost to the game and drugs, violence and unprotected sex became the order of the day. The streets were ugly and the people on them were grotesque caricatures living on the edge and in the shadows. This neighborhood, once filled with doctors, lawyers, business owners and proud, upstanding people of color, became a dark, hard place where trust was not an option and fear was around every corner and in every home. Although I never used drugs, every aspect of my life was impacted by drugs and life became a living hell. Red, green and blue caps replaced candy wrappers and handballs. Children could no longer play in the streets for fear of being robbed or killed by a stray bullet. My family was devastated by the drug trade and epidemic. They contributed to it and were taken out by it. There were casualties all around and I suffered greatly as I witnessed the mental, physical, emotional and spiritual demise of the people and community that I loved. Sadly enough the community never recovered. The St. Albans that I knew and loved died in the 80s.
What you do every day to make it happen out here in this crazy world:
I share all of this, not because I am bitter or want to focus on sorrow, destruction or pain. I present this chapter of the story because it has helped to mold the life that I present to you today. Yes I have made mistakes that were fueled by the devastation of childhood trauma and I have hurt others and been hurt by others as a result of this pain. However, I have used the energy and synergy of these experiences to build a life; a life fueled by my desire to gain a greater understanding of human emotion and fragility as well as strength and resilience. I now understand the deeper and inner workings of people as I chose a career in the counseling profession and have devoted my life to helping people to unearth their trauma and to tell their stories for the service of healing and transformation.
Despite the circumstances that I endured and the unraveling of my family as an adolescent, I was determined to get an education and contribute to turning our community around. I received my bachelor’s in Social Sciences from Adelphi University and a Masters in Social Work from New York University. I am now a Licensed Master Social Worker who owns two businesses; The Griots Healing Circle Visit the The Griots' Healing Circle and Spirit of Woman Rites of Passage and Leadership Development Institute. Both organizations assist in creating the leaders of tomorrow and help individuals to find their voices and heal their pain. I am also an adjunct professor at Monroe College and a consultant for several community based organizations in New York City. I have counseled and advocated for children, women, families of color and oppressed people of all kinds. I am a mother, a therapist, a healer, a community organizer, a leadership development professional, a singer, an actress, a writer, a teacher and a friend. But most importantly, I am spiritual being having a human experience and I am determined to live a life that honors my ancestors and will leave an indelible mark on the face of the community that helped to mold and shape me into the person and warrior spirit that I am today. My story is much like your own. I have seen much and will experience much more, however, I am determined to live with integrity and to live well. St. Albans was the soil where the seeds of my life were planted and up from that soil has risen a strong tree with many branches.
Your Shout Outs!:
My Shout Out is to the Masses: I extend those branches and leaves to all of you who have hurt, healed and grown as part of your personal journey. I thank everyone who has contributed to my story thus far and look forward to co-creating the next book in the series.
Stay Blessed, Stay Focused and Remember Your Purpose.
Peace & Much Love To You All,
Shawnee (Shanee)
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