The Isolated Bubble
I grew up feeling isolated in many ways—both in my environment and in my relationships. My childhood wasn’t lonely in the sense that I was completely alone—I had Alice and a few neighborhood kids to play with—but those friendships didn’t extend beyond our street. At school, they didn’t talk to me. It was like I existed in two separate worlds: one where I was included just enough to not feel invisible and another where I was completely overlooked.
My sister and I had a significant age gap—five years and nine months—which naturally created some distance between us. I don’t remember us being particularly close as kids. My mom didn’t allow me to tag along with her and her friends, and at some point, she didn’t really want to be bothered with me either.
My mom was a working postmaster, and my dad was already retired by the time I was born. I spent a lot of time with him—just the two of us (more on my parent dynamics later). We didn’t have any blood relatives in Lynchburg; my parents had moved there from New York when my mom got a new position with the post office. If we wanted to see family, it meant a long drive—at least an hour, sometimes three to seven hours just to visit cousins who were close to my age. Because of that, I never had the kind of built-in community that a lot of other kids seemed to have. I didn’t bake cookies with my grandma on the weekends. I didn’t have cousins around to grow up with.
Without that sense of belonging, I struggled to develop strong social skills. I never really had real friends, just people I was around. And in my world, I always felt tolerated—never truly accepted. Even at home, I carried that feeling with me.
Then I met Asia in first grade—my first Black friend and a fellow air sign, a Libra. It’s funny how we met—two headstrong little girls standing in line for the bathroom. I’ve never been a fan of lines, not then and not now. Her very first words to me were, “Ummm… the line starts back there.” Without hesitation, I shot back, “I don’t have to listen to you.”
Was I in the wrong? Absolutely. Did she have an attitude with it? Absolutely. And somehow, from that moment, we became the best of friends. We still laugh about it to this day.
Asia helped me understand myself in ways I didn’t realize at the time. I learned so much about Black culture through her and her family. My mom is a southern, country church girl, and my dad is a mid west mountaineer at heart—he loves soulful music, so hip-hop & rap was not being played in our house. Asia’s world was different. We both cheered, loved Bratz dolls, watched The Proud Family, and spent Friday nights skating. Asia’s mom was a HUGE Lil Kim fan, and thanks to her, I was introduced to so many dope songs from her catalog along with other artist my parents would NEVER let me listen to. I was rapping Mobb Deep at age 7- having no idea what the lyrics even meant lol. I loved being at her house so much that I never wanted to go home.
There was so much self-discovery and adventure in Asia’s world. We lived completely different lives—opposite sides of town, opposite family dynamics. While I had the big house and the two-parent home, she had community and a village.
Asia carried a lot of responsibility as the oldest of three siblings, and looking back, I realize I was probably an extra responsibility too. I was very co-dependent on her because she filled a lot of needs that I wasn’t getting at home or in my own environment. At times, I still felt like I was being tolerated, but it wasn’t because she didn’t care—it was because she already had so much on her plate to be so young. Still, for some reason, I felt more accepted by her than I did at home. Home was a bubble.
We spent nearly every weekend together—sometimes even weekdays after school—from first grade through our sophomore or junior year of high school. And although we don’t talk every day and aren’t as close as we once were, I’m still so grateful for that friendship.
Growing up with Asia gave me the chance to experience what having a close sister felt like. I got to step into the role of a big sister, too, as her little sisters became my little sisters. She protected me, stood up for me, and, in turn, taught me how to stand up for myself. Through her, I learned what confidence looked like. I got to experience playing with a bunch of kids who looked like me—something I didn’t get in my own world. And maybe most importantly, I got to see what life was like outside of the bubble my parents had created for my sister and me.
Until Next Time….
Peace & Love,
Ash
