A Bit About Me: The Early Years


Howdy Dear Reader!

I’m often asked to give a bio about 100 words long.  More often than that, it’s condensed to “Journalist and speaker, Jamila Bey is delivering X talk on Y date.”  And while I do enjoy trying to be witty, pithy and accurate within those constraints, I think a more proper introduction is in order for this site!

First, let’s begin with a game of “Spot the Lie!”

A) I was born a poor Black child.  

B) When I was 17, I did what people told me; did what my father said and let my mother mold me.  

C) I started from the bottom, now I’m here.  

D) A & B

E) B& C

F) None of the Above

If you guessed “A” give yourself and Mulligan and try again.  “F” is what we’re looking for!

little me (2)

I was born, raised, educated and held my first job in Pittsburgh.  I’m the child of a telephone operator and an auto worker/librarian/turned police sergeant.  The historic part of the city in which I grew up, the Hill District, is the setting for all of Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright, August Wilson’s plays.  Religion played a big role in my young life.  While he didn’t practice, and I certainly never learned the doctrine, my father was a Black Muslim by birth.  Having the name “Bey” in Pittsburgh meant that I was always asked if my people were from the West part of the city (they were) and if I ate pork (I didn’t) and how come I went to Catholic school if I was part of the city’s most well-known, non-Christian clan.

church (2)

My mother was a Baptist who converted to Catholicism about the time it came to enroll me in school and to get a parish discount.  I do believe her devotion, but the timing leads me to think that her god’s got wonderful timing.  Except for a 6-8th grade reprieve, ALL of my education up until my final semester in college was at the hands of Catholic schoolteachers. And true to form, they taught me how to question and dissect everything.

I actually did consider myself to be an adherent Catholic… though it never did make sense to me.  I put forth a good face.

The face started to crack in high school when my questioning Catholic doctrine and dogma and my growing understanding of my rights as a citizen were in eternal conflict.  I once spent an afternoon in detention where the vice principal, a round ball of Catholic rage, took sharpie to my backpack and demanded I help her.

 

I’d taken White-Out and painted a wire hanger with a circle and slash through it, and the block letters, “PRO CHOICE” on my bag.  As she scribbled and scribbled in black over that White Out, the marker just slid off, and darkened the area around my “blasphemous” artwork, serving to highlight it instead.  I got another day of detention because as we were “covering up” my bag, I was told, “You can’t come back to school with this on your bag! You can’t wear this uniform and have THAT showing!”  I smirked at her and laughed, “I guess everyone is gonna put this on their backpacks and get free “out of uniform days ” from you for now on.” uniform (2)

 

I spent more time in detention than in nearly every other activity except for forensics.  I loved parliamentary debate just as much as I loved being in front of a room.  Thanks to my success in the activity, I got to travel and meet lots of folks- many of whom I still count as friends today!  And while I have no recollection that we met as high schoolers, Harvard Humanist Chaplain, Greg Epstein and I were at the same National Catholic Forensic League tournament in Boca Raton, FL!

All that debating and hanging out with cool Jewish kids was having its way with me.  I refused to pick a female saint for my Catholic confirmation ceremony on principle.  I refused to talk about anything other than how amazing was Sinead O’Connor for ripping up the picture of the pope on SNL- a spectacle I actually witnessed live.  And I was really having a hard time buying that there was some benevolent and loving man in the sky who saw fit to spend plenty of time reminding me that lusting in my heart was sinful, but didn’t see fit to spare any time to stop the suffering of a girl I knew who wound up miscarrying her own father’s child.

For one not so adept at math, this Catholic stuff didn’t add up for me at all!

So, I decided to enroll in a Catholic university and go in whole hog!  Eating none of course, I’m 1/2 Muslim after all!

… To Be Continued

Comments

  1. Anne Fenwick says

    Hi Jamila, Wow… Catholic school! And Uni! I totally failed to guess that, Well, I look forward to the next installment. Oh, and just so I get this straight: forensics is American for the debating society? I didn’t know that.

  2. Johnny Vector says

    Arg, what is wrong with me for not having read any of your other work? This is fantastic! Welcome.

  3. Anne Fenwick says

    Erm… Maybe I’m jumping the gun, but I’m sure it’s breakfast time all over the U S by now and I wonder if the rest of the commentariat haven’t turned up because this post isn’t on the FTB home page? Does that work with tags of some kind? I’m not sure.

  4. ScarletRevenant says

    Welcome to FTB– I usually don’t comment too much around here, but I’m always excited to see a new person’s perspective on life, the universe, and everything.

  5. rq says

    Are you going to do like Dana does with her volcano posts, and leave cliffhangers at all the interesting points?
    Thank you for sharing!!

  6. xyz says

    It is so cool to see your writing here, and I can’t wait for the rest of your tale. That picture of you cutting up in your school uniform is just great.

  7. Pieter B, FCD says

    All the time we’ve spent yacking at each other and there’s still lots of stuff I didn’t know about you. Cool! Looking forward to further installments.

  8. Crip Dyke, Right Reverend Feminist FuckToy of Death & Her Handmaiden says

    So, I’ve read things of yours before and very much appreciated them. I’ve been a regular (and irregular – law school and depression make for some unpredictable periods of absence) reader of FtB since it began, and I’m glad to see you here.

    If I wasn’t quick on the draw in welcoming you, just know that I’ll be reading.

    …aaaaaaand I hope that comes across as a compliment 😉

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