It wasn’t enough for me to just watch When Love Kills: The Falicia Blakely Story, a made for TV movie about a woman who is currently serving three life sentences for going on a murder-robbery spree for her pimp. I couldn’t just shake loose her story and leave it where it ended because before the murders, both of our lives had been tic tac toe boards; parallel lines drawn out to create space for players. She eventually found herself X’ed out while I figured out how to collect my circles in a row. After the movie, I laid in my dark bedroom alone clutching my pearls, heart racing and grateful for all the second, third and fourth chances the universe had given me. It took me a few days to work up enough nerve to reach out to Falicia, but she responded within 24 hours via the J Pay electronic mail system (Read about it here.)
Although we have never spoken face to face, I know her. She is my sister; our lives symmetric, and our pain corresponding. Falicia is three years younger than me, and she had already dropped out of high school before she reunited with her mother in Atlanta. This was around the same time I discovered my Mecca. Atlanta: a fierce black alpha city that reigns over the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. It is just a hop and a skip away from Birmingham.
The A’, as it is affectionately called, rests atop a ridge just south of the Chattahoochee River, and it sits at one of the highest elevations among the major cities east of the Mississippi River. I have never officially lived in Atlanta, but it is one of the few places I have always loved. Like the center slot in a game of Knots and Crosses, Atlanta would have been my best move, but I couldn’t afford it. Instead, I would go there as often as I could… and take diet pills so I wouldn’t sleep the entire time I was there.
I would dangerously soak it all in.
Book signings at the Shrine of The Black Madonna,
building with brothers and sisters at Soul Veg,
and 2 ½ miles east of Downtown was my Kaaba: Little Five Points.
Little Five Points may not look like much if you are driving through. Its magic is a subtle vibe. Today, it’s in the vegan red velvet cake at GO Valinda’s, in the little magick shop inside the Bazaar that I like to get my crystals and candles from, and it permeates through the melanated shop owners. It was the first place I saw Black artists using their gifts to provide for themselves and their families.
Little Five Points may not look like much if you are driving through. Its magic is a subtle vibe. Today, it’s in the vegan red velvet cake at GO Valinda’s, in the little magick shop inside the Bazaar that I like to get my crystals and candles from, and it permeates through the melanated shop owners. It was the first place I saw Black artists using their gifts to provide for themselves and their families.
I was no more than 18 when I met David Patterson at the Bazaar. He was a line artist who used tiny little lines to draw pictures that told whole stories. Each line stopped and started with a purpose, and I noticed he hardly ever used curves. Whenever I was in town, I’d stay and watch him draw, buying 3 or 4 of his pieces at a time. I wonder if Felicia ever hung out there? If she just ever took in the beauty of David’s work and soaked up the smell of the Bombay Cafe, or got a big hug from Laneek at Earthtone.
I was no more than 18 when I met David Patterson at the Bazaar. He was a line artist who used tiny little lines to draw pictures that told whole stories. Each line stopped and started with a purpose, and I noticed he hardly ever used curves. Whenever I was in town, I’d stay and watch him draw, buying 3 or 4 of his pieces at a time. I wonder if Felicia ever hung out there? If she just ever took in the beauty of David’s work and soaked up the smell of the Bombay Cafe, or got a big hug from Laneek at Earthtone.
I’ve had my fair share of adventures twerking and drinking at Vegas Knights, Club 50 Grand, and Bigelows. The zest of a Falcons win will push you into the oddest spaces. I had even seen the inside of a strip club or three by the time Falicia started stripping. Atlanta strippers are some of the most beautiful women in the world. Many of them nip, tuck, pump and stuff themselves to perfection, and once they shape-shift into gorgeous, they leave all their pain on the stage in exchange for cash.
I can imagine Falicia stepping out on stage, all eyes on her elongating her body into a full moon, bow and arrow double grip, and hook. Her skin shimmering, her clothes worth more than the average person treated her. I could never blame Falicia for choosing to be adored and adorned with dollars despite how it all ended for her.
I was thrown a curve-I found out I was pregnant.
After an extended stay in Atlanta on a Tuesday, I was thrown a curve-I found out I was pregnant. I had been kicking it with a guy back home every other day or so after school and before work. First, he was good looking. Second, it was super convenient; he lived less than 2 minutes from the community college I was attending and about 10 minutes from my job. I made time to lay up with him, eat, and go to work without burning gas or spending too much money. My money was for the A’. I was making straight A’s and was bored out of my mind whenever I was in Birmingham. I longed for Atlanta. Coincidentally, Falicia and I got pregnant around the same time. In the movie, they say she had a girl, but the truth is we both gave birth to boys.
Like Falicia, when I told my baby’s father, Brian, that I was pregnant, he didn’t want anything to do with me. There are probably only a few children that never look their living fathers in the face at least once. It is an unusually cold rejection for both mother and son. It stabs deep, and the low self-esteem and the lack of self-worth it causes can rot out your senses and make you make bad choices. We all lose.
I knew by the time I was six weeks pregnant that my son’s father would not ever come around. Before that, like Falicia, I thought that Brian was digging me and we could figure it all out, but he quickly made sure I understood he wanted out. Call it a draw; he disappeared and left me to do everything on my own.
Shortly after we delivered our boys, Falicia found out that Michael (her eventual pimp) was out of jail and looking to hook up. Even if we had been the best of girlfriends and Falicia had called and asked me for my advice, the truth is back then I would have understood his allure… especially since Falicia never told anyone about Michael’s abuse.
The funny thing is that the movie doesn’t really tackle this at all. It is all so complicated that by mid-movie the child just disappears and is never seen or discussed in Felicia’s story again. When a man leaves a woman to raise a child alone, it is automatically her fault. She should’ve been more careful about who she chose to lay down with, and she somehow is responsible for the sperm donor’s character. Not him or his mama. His ability to abandon his child is a burden left for her to carry. Like Falicia, it was a bit much for me.
Perhaps the director couldn’t even fathom how to portray it on screen, or couldn’t even really comprehend the way that kind of rejection breaks you down or how unworthy it makes you feel. Like Falicia, I know though; I know that this type of rejection can conjure up an unhealthy desire to please people in order to feel love.
I was thrown a curve-I found out I was pregnant.
After an extended stay in Atlanta on a Tuesday, I was thrown a curve-I found out I was pregnant. I had been kicking it with a guy back home every other day or so after school and before work. First, he was good looking. Second, it was super convenient; he lived less than 2 minutes from the community college I was attending and about 10 minutes from my job. I made time to lay up with him, eat, and go to work without burning gas or spending too much money. My money was for the A’. I was making straight A’s and was bored out of my mind whenever I was in Birmingham. I longed for Atlanta. Coincidentally, Falicia and I got pregnant around the same time. In the movie, they say she had a girl, but the truth is we both gave birth to boys.
Like Falicia, when I told my baby’s father, Brian, that I was pregnant, he didn’t want anything to do with me. There are probably only a few children that never look their living fathers in the face at least once. It is an unusually cold rejection for both mother and son. It stabs deep, and the low self-esteem and the lack of self-worth it causes can rot out your senses and make you make bad choices. We all lose.
I knew by the time I was six weeks pregnant that my son’s father would not ever come around. Before that, like Falicia, I thought that Brian was digging me and we could figure it all out, but he quickly made sure I understood he wanted out. Call it a draw; he disappeared and left me to do everything on my own.
Shortly after we delivered our boys, Falicia found out that Michael (her eventual pimp) was out of jail and looking to hook up. Even if we had been the best of girlfriends and Falicia had called and asked me for my advice, the truth is back then I would have understood his allure… especially since Falicia never told anyone about Michael’s abuse.
The funny thing is that the movie doesn’t really tackle this at all. It is all so complicated that by mid-movie the child just disappears and is never seen or discussed in Falicia’s story again. When a man leaves a woman to raise a child alone, it is automatically her fault. She should’ve been more careful about who she chose to lay down with, and she somehow is responsible for the sperm donor’s character. Not him or his mama. His ability to abandon his child is a burden left for her to carry. Like Falicia, it was a bit much for me.
Perhaps the director couldn’t even fathom how to portray it on screen, or couldn’t even really comprehend the way that kind of rejection breaks you down or how unworthy it makes you feel. Like Falicia, I know though; I know that this type of rejection can conjure up an unhealthy desire to please people in order to feel love.
From what I can tell, Michael’s attention made Falicia feel wanted. I still remember how badly I wanted Brian, or anybody, to want me. That feeling lasted for a long time, even after my son Doriyan was born. I remember the way I shrank a little every time someone asked me about Doriyan’s dad. Everybody has an opinion about what I needed to do differently. I was made to feel bad, and as a result I was not good. I did pull it together enough to enroll into a university. I decided that if I was going to be a super single mom, I would need to get a proper education. I utilized the free counseling center, I wrote poems, and I cried a lot. I didn’t go to Atlanta very much during that time, but I thought a lot about my time there and daydreamed of what it would be like to raise my son there.
Meanwhile, Falicia learned how to hit a lick, and Michael was demanding she use her new skills to take other people’s money and valuables on a regular basis. In a relatively short amount of time, she went from stripping with a little prostitution on the side to a robbery-murder spree. I can see how Michael could have concocted the perfect storm of passion, love bombing, and fear in Falicia. He called her Princess when her baby’s father didn’t call to see if she had made it out of the delivery room alive.
I remember the first man to look at me like a woman after I had Doriyan. On our first date, he took me to the Botanical Gardens and and we talked for hours. I started skipping therapy soon after that and began meeting him for lunch instead. He is the person who made me believe I could win. I just needed to get all circles aligned. He had quite a few cars, a house, and a business, and if he could do it, I knew I could too. He also had a mean streak and could be considered violent. When his anger seeped out, I would make a joke about it, and I would lick his wounds similar to the way he licked mine.
I used to love to drive us around in his deep dark purple restored Chevy, and one night, I eased into a nearby Chevron gas station. I stepped out of the car to get a Cherry Pepsi. As I came around the car, the guy at the pump across from us commented on my ass. I thought it was funny because it meant I was finding my post-baby body, but my date felt disrespected. His body shook as he cursed; the longer he pumped the gas the madder he got. While the gas dripped into the tank, I begged him not to cause a scene as he yelled over me. I asked him not to pull his gun out. He wouldn’t calm down. The guy at the pump didn’t seem bothered, but I didn’t want anybody to die over my ass. Eventually, the guy drove off into the night, and I got an earful for interfering.
Now, this man was never violent towards me in any way, but I feared him, and he knew it. His control was delicately complex. My car would break down, and he would have it towed to his house and lie about working on it, but he would drive me to and fro for weeks without complaining. I could never borrow one of the cars alone and drive somewhere on my own. If I had a new job, he would take me and pick me up. He might also linger in the parking lot during my lunch to make sure I was hanging out with other women on the job and not men. He was not a pimp, but he manipulated me in ways that are hard to explain. I am certain that my inability to see through him had a lot to do with wanting to be wanted.
Filling Holes
From what I can tell, Michael’s attention made Falicia feel wanted. I still remember how badly I wanted Brian, or anybody, to want me. That feeling lasted for a long time, even after my son Doriyan was born. I remember the way I shrank a little every time someone asked me about Doriyan’s dad. Everybody has an opinion about what I needed to do differently. I was made to feel bad, and as a result I was not good. I did pull it together enough to enroll into a university. I decided that if I was going to be a super single mom, I would need to get a proper education. I utilized the free counseling center, I wrote poems, and I cried a lot. I didn’t go to Atlanta very much during that time, but I thought a lot about my time there and daydreamed of what it would be like to raise my son there.
Meanwhile, Falicia learned how to hit a lick, and Michael was demanding she use her new skills to take other people’s money and valuables on a regular basis. In a relatively short amount of time, she went from stripping with a little prostitution on the side to a robbery-murder spree. I can see how Michael could have concocted the perfect storm of passion, love bombing, and fear in Falicia. He called her Princess when her baby’s father didn’t call to see if she had made it out of the delivery room alive.
I remember the first man to look at me like a woman after I had Doriyan. On our first date, he took me to the Botanical Gardens and and we talked for hours. I started skipping therapy soon after that and began meeting him for lunch instead. He is the person who made me believe I could win. I just needed to get all circles aligned. He had quite a few cars, a house, and a business, and if he could do it, I knew I could too. He also had a mean streak and could be considered violent. When his anger seeped out, I would make a joke about it, and I would lick his wounds similar to the way he licked mine.
I used to love to drive us around in his deep dark purple restored Chevy, and one night, I eased into a nearby Chevron gas station. I stepped out of the car to get a Cherry Pepsi. As I came around the car, the guy at the pump across from us commented on my ass. I thought it was funny because it meant I was finding my post-baby body, but my date felt disrespected. His body shook as he cursed; the longer he pumped the gas the madder he got. While the gas dripped into the tank, I begged him not to cause a scene as he yelled over me. I asked him not to pull his gun out. He wouldn’t calm down. The guy at the pump didn’t seem bothered, but I didn’t want anybody to die over my ass. Eventually, the guy drove off into the night, and I got an earful for interfering.
Now, this man was never violent towards me in any way, but I feared him, and he knew it. His control was delicately complex. My car would break down, and he would have it towed to his house and lie about working on it, but he would drive me to and fro for weeks without complaining. I could never borrow one of the cars alone and drive somewhere on my own. If I had a new job, he would take me and pick me up. He might also linger in the parking lot during my lunch to make sure I was hanging out with other women on the job and not men. He was not a pimp, but he manipulated me in ways that are hard to explain. I am certain that my inability to see through him had a lot to do with wanting to be wanted.
Like Falicia
Like Falicia, I skirted around the edges of my morals for his attention and affection. I wanted to please him. I was willing to date him despite the family he had built with his wife. When we met, they were off again, but throughout our 2-year relationship, they would be on one time too many. I finally got the courage to walk away. It wasn’t easy and took some time, but I did it. To be clear, this isn’t to justify Falicia’s actions; she is being rightfully punished. I could never fully understand the pain her irresponsible actions caused, but this made me feel connected to her, and this is why I had to interview her. I realize that it was my second, and third, and fourth chances that stopped me from ending up like Falicia.
I still wonder if Falicia and my paths have ever actually touched. Like maybe we stood in the same aisle in a CVS buying condoms, or perhaps I sat in the booth with my friends across from her and Michael on one of those late night early mornings at IHOP or Steak & Shake nights. Even if our paths have not crossed as intimately, I can imagine us breathing the same air. We have probably at least passed each other on the street, her heading to the Blue Flame for work with Michael in the car and me heading to The Fox Theatre to catch a concert with Mr. Manipulative. Both of us entertaining men who could never love us, but still looking for love anyway.
I love your writing. It’s raw, thought provoking, and beautifully written. Great Job Mrs. Aisha Adams!!!!
Beautifully written. Exceptional imagery with sincere thought provocation. Loved it and Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for sharing your experience in parallel with Falicia. It was told well.
This week I was contacted by an incarcerated family member who wants me to us the jpay app system to send him messages. The exchange angered me because he was an underage kid when he went into the system, but now he is 40. Yep. He went in before the internet and the world is completely different. I found the story about Falicia captivating and heartbreaking at the same time.
Thanks for being brave enough to share your story and inspire others. My mom saw that movie..I believe on BET..and said it was good. I keep messing it but am intrigued by the story.
This is was so powerful and really well written!! This was really thought-provoking and I could imagine the words in my head.
Wow I love how you felt you knew Falicia and was able to empathize with her. I heard her story and it’s sad I wish her the best.
Wow! This is moving! We are all connected in some fashion and to actually reach out to a person is amazing to me. Thank you for sharing!
I watched the movie and I was floored. I was once married to an abusive man that I started dating at 15 years old. I understand how that can influence the outcome of ones life. I’m thankful that the Universe saw fit to protect me at a time when I could not protect myself.