Brandon Stanton's Blog, page 82

“We’ve been together for twenty years now. She stays the first...

“We’ve been together for twenty years now.  She stays the first half of the week alone in Paris, and when her last Egyptology class is finished, she joins me in the countryside for the second half of the week.  We’ve both been married.  We both have grandchildren.  And you’d never know by looking at her, but she’s even a great grandmother.  We’re not young anymore.  Our lives are behind us.  So labels aren’t important.  From the beginning our only rule was respect.  Friendship or love, we don’t make a distinction.  Everyone cares except for us.  The key word is ‘happy.’  We are happy.  And that’s all that matters.”
(Paris, France)

“Look at my sister, she is so cute. I miss her so much when I...

“Look at my sister, she is so cute.  I miss her so much when I go to Grandma’s house.  She is so sweet.  I give her toys and she gives them right back to me.  All she says is ‘blah, blah, blah.’  I don’t understand any of it.  Maybe she’s speaking English.  I am so proud of her.  Look at her.  She likes you a lot.”
(Paris, France)

“My father is schizophrenic. As a child I lived with him every...

“My father is schizophrenic.  As a child I lived with him every other week.  During those times I acted like a second mother.  I did everything for him.  I’d make all the decisions, even the difficult ones.  He lived in the past.  He’d bring up fights he had during his childhood.  And he was paranoid.  Mostly he was paranoid of losing me.  He’d call me his ‘soul mate.’  His ‘sunshine.’  It was all very confusing.  I was only ten years old.  The most hurtful thing was seeing him destroy himself.  He was capable of getting a job, especially when he took his medicine. But he was always drunk.  He had a lot of homeless friends that took advantage of the situation.  They’d take his money.  They’d sleep over.  And I was the one who had to kick them out.  Everything was on my shoulders.  I was losing weight.  I couldn’t concentrate at school.  Eventually I decided I couldn’t take it anymore.  One night he got so angry that I locked myself in the bathroom, and I stopped talking to him for four years.  No more worrying.  No more headaches.  I felt a bit guilty, but mostly I just felt free.  I could work on my own problems.  I could learn about myself.  I’m seventeen now, and we’ve started talking again recently.  But on my terms.  I decide when I want to see him.  It’s still complicated, but it’s easier.  Because I’ve learned to accept that my father has no interest in improving his situation.  And that it’s not my responsibility to make him.”
(Paris, France)

“I’ve made my name now. I’m a journalist. I live in a nice...

“I’ve made my name now.  I’m a journalist.  I live in a nice neighborhood.  But it was hard growing up in Paris as a black girl.  I’m from the island of Martinique.  It used to be a French colony.  There were no jobs on our island, so I came to study in Paris at the age of twelve.  Things were very difficult.  I was one of the only black students at my school.  There was a lot of racism.  One teacher especially made my life difficult.  She taught economics.  It wasn’t my best subject because I was more interested in literature, so occasionally I’d talk to my friend during class.  And the teacher failed me for ‘disrespecting her.’  She told me to go back to ‘the coconut islands.’  She said I’d never amount to anything in life.  I ended up pursuing a more artistic path.  And a few years later I became the principal dancer in a big musical.  It was a showcase of music from my island.  Many famous musicians participated.  I convinced my white friend to invite that economics teacher to the performance.  She had no clue I was involved.  When the show was over, I walked straight into the audience, found her seat, and asked: ‘Does this count as doing something with my life?’
(Paris, France)

“I don’t know why my mother hated me. She had a sickness that...

“I don’t know why my mother hated me.  She had a sickness that you could not see.  But she convinced me that I was sick.  And that everything was because of me.  And that I’m a monster.  She criticized everything.  My way of eating.  My way of speaking.  My way of dressing.  Anything that brought me joy, she would deny me.  If I defended myself, she would hit me.  I was terrified of lunch and dinner because that’s when I had to face her.  I spent my entire childhood alone.  I just played with my cats in the garden.  Or sat on the floor of my bedroom.  I’d try so hard to leave my body because I didn’t want to be on earth.  And that’s when the spirits and fairies would come to me.  Even Mother Mary came to me.  I was never afraid of them.  They’d comfort me.  I remember being seven years old, sitting alone beneath a tree, talking to the fairies.  Another little girl walked up and asked what game I was playing.  That’s when I realized nobody else could see what I was seeing.  And it’s been a very lonely existence since then.”
(Paris, France)

Today in microfashion…(Paris, France)

Today in microfashion…
(Paris, France)

“I wanted to be a famous author. Literature has been my passion...

“I wanted to be a famous author.  Literature has been my passion since childhood.  But whenever you have a passion, it’s so easy to convince yourself that you’re not good at it.  Because you read all these fantastic authors.  And then you try to write yourself, and you learn how difficult it can be to write a single perfect sentence.  It’s so much work to be happy with what you’ve written.  And sometimes you choose life.  We’re in Paris, it’s sunny, I have wonderful friends, maybe I should just be enjoying these things instead of thinking about how to package and share them.  So I got a job in communications.  And I mainly just wrote for my own enjoyment: poems, notes, journals.  But I never shared a thing.  Not a single page.  With anyone.  But last year I wrote a story.  A complete story.  A real story.  With two characters, a beginning, and an end.  I thought: ‘Maybe it’s not too bad.  We must test.  Maybe this is the moment.’  So a few months ago I submitted it to a contest in my town.  It’s just a small town.  And just a very little contest.  But this morning I got the email.  I won the prize.  And I’m just so happy.  This weekend I’m going to the beach with my family.  I can’t wait to tell my mother.  I can’t believe I get to say these words, the greatest words: ‘I will be published.’”
(Paris, France)

“He was my best friend for eight years. We were neighbors. I...

“He was my best friend for eight years.  We were neighbors.  I started biking because of him.  We took a 1000 kilometer trip together: from Italy to Bosnia.  I knew he was suffering from depression.  He told me.  We were sitting by the canal one night in August.  We’d been drinking.  And he just said it, that he felt lost, and he didn’t fit in, and he was very sad.  I knew there was a history of depression in his family.  His father had taken his own life a few years earlier.  But his father had been so much older.  It felt like a different situation.  And it was such a big issue that I didn’t know how to react.  I was uncomfortable.  I didn’t know how to help him.  It felt like too much for me to handle.  So I listened for a few minutes, then I suggested he talk to a professional.  After that I changed the subject.  I know that what happened is ultimately his responsibility.  There’s no way I could have known.  But I should have talked to him more about it.  Maybe he’d have lied.  But I was close enough to ask directly: ‘Do you think you might kill yourself?’”
(Paris, France)

“My husband and I are leaving Paris after ten years. We have so...

“My husband and I are leaving Paris after ten years.  We have so many memories in this garden.  Our first date was at a nearby café.  We ate chicken with coconut sauce and walked down Boulevard St. Michel.  We sat in front of Notre Dame for a long time.  We kissed.  And this is the very bench I was sitting on three years later, when I called my mother and told her that I wouldn’t be coming back to our island.  Because I met a guy.  A white guy.  I’d been avoiding telling her for years because our culture is very traditional.  My hands were trembling.  I’d just scored well on an examination, so I gave her the good news first.  Then I said: ‘Mom, I need to tell you something.  I’ve met someone,  his name is Michel.’  There were thirty seconds of silence.  Then she replied: ‘That doesn’t sound like a Muslim name.  But if you’re happy, and he has values, then that’s OK.’  I felt so much relief.  It was such a beautiful moment.  But it was only a moment.  Because then she said: ‘Now it’s time to tell your father.’”
(Paris, France)

“We’re eating cookies before lunch because Grandpa doesn’t have...

“We’re eating cookies before lunch because Grandpa doesn’t have any rules.”
(Paris, France)