“Be Dominant!”
Ceasar Milan

The art of the beating is going out of style. Some people just don’t want to do it (I bet they identify with that “this will hurt me more than you” thing that we never believed as kids). Some people do it waaaay to much and taint the whole enterprise…and break their kids minds and spirits. If done properly it’s a useful tool that won’t scar your children in any real way. So I thought I would recount my three best (or worst) beatings.

Surprise!!!

Perhaps some of you enjoyed playing outside as a youngster. Perhaps, occasionally like me, you were given instructions. Well this one day I was told to stay on the block and NOT go into my friend E.J.’s house. Of course as we start playing someone wants to play Punch Out! in E.J.’s house. Of course against better judgement I went in. Oh did we have a ball. I think we got up to Super Macho Man before I realized that I had been in dudes house for quite a while. I decide that I better go home since I lucked up and didn’t get caught (my peoples had no problem knocking on doors and bringing you out). As I walk up my steps it struck me as odd that my mother opened up the door. My spidey sense said something was wrong but what could I do. My moms said come on in, in such a plain voice, and WHACK!!! I never saw the belt behind her back. She gave it to me for a few good minutes and then let me know that I would be chilling on the front for the rest of the week.

Daddy.

My grandfather was known as Daddy. Mostly cause his kids all called him daddy so grandchildren adopted the term. Daddy only wanted to chill, be left alone and my grandmother to calm down and stop yelling so he could hear the T.V. Daddy was actually the get over. He wasn’t supposed to have fried fish so if you went with him on a run he would buy your loyalty with sweets. Anyway Daddy would never discipline he would just yell cause whatever we did had Granny yelling. So one day we were left with Daddy as everyone else was out shopping. Me and my two cousins had a good ole. Yelling, screaming and chasing each other around the house. Jumping up and down on the couch and all sorts of fun stuff. We didn’t seem to hear Daddy telling us to settle down. We didn’t notice that he was getting upset. We did notice once he pulled out that extension cord…the long orange chumpie people use with lawnmowers. He introduced us to something I call the Three Man Down. That’s where all three of us had to drop trow and lay across the couch as he introduced our asses to the extension cord. We learned that day that Daddy was laid back but he did not play.

Three for one.

I have pulled many stunts in my life and done some funny shit. This however is one of my mothers favorite stories to tell. One day, my cousin and I, are playing a game under the table. I can’t remember where I got it from but I started pouring battery acid into my cousins hair (she always had thick, long hair after that - I’m just saying). My grandmother walks into the room and starts kirking out. She proceeds to beat me within an inch of my life - #1. I move crying into another room where my aunt is at. She says Rahsaan, what’s wrong. My unorganized and hasty response was. “I poured battery acid in Tasha’s hair.” Should have considered that answer. My aunt proceeds to beat me back from the threshold my grandmother left me at - #2. So I, still crying, go upstairs and into my mothers room. She wakes up and says, “Boy why are you crying?” I, in the midst of sobs begin to tell her the story. My mistake once again was that I did not explain my tears were produced by the two beatings I had just had. Once again I open up with, “I poured battery acid in Tasha’s hair.” Damn I was a dumb kid. My mother tore into my ass - #3. So I proceed back downstairs trying to cry but a boy can only tear up for so long. My other aunt walks into the house and say’s, “Rahsaan, why are you crying?” My response to her? “I’m not telling!” As I ran into the next room crying. I may learn slow but I pick up eventually.

In summary beatings are part of the reason why I still have to build up my courage to say no to my mother. I remind myself, “I’m a grown ass man, and I don’t have to do that.” In reality you shouldn’t beat your children all the time. A well timed beating will allow you to influence your children with piercing looks. Even though I stand over my mother my only experience is with her beating me. If I had no respect I would still have ingrained memories of any confrontation being strictly one way.