Blindsided: The Moth Podcast

Once a student develops their story and voice, they can show up more authentically in the classroom, their relationships and beyond.

“Which is why we developed the Moth Teacher Institute.”

A annual conference that brings together educators who want to use the Moth storytelling techniques in their classrooms and communities. The programming features live storytelling, panel discussions, and hands-on workshops to help find, shape, and tell your own true personal stories. To learn more and apply visit theMoth.org/edu. Our presentation for your podcast, "Frischis Obst" and "Knackiges Gemüse" from Aldi. "Imagut, Imagünstich, Imagünstich, Imagünstich, Kuts, says "Frischis for all." To all the prizes, this week, Mini-Wasser-Millon, the kilo for only €1.29 or nectarines, the one kilo for only €1.80.

In a decade, many other fields in your old North-Viliale and furthermore, easy-going and unique. All the good for all.

"Oh, hey, welcome to the Moth. I'm Amina Brown. I'm a Moth storyteller, poet, and the author of the essay collection never tell a black girl how to black girl.

When something comes out of the blue, how do you react? Do you freeze? Do you panic? Or do you find a way to move forward? On this episode, we've got two stories about being surprised. The dumbfounded, blind-sided and completely different ways. Our first story is from Janelle Banks, who told the story at a Kansas City main stage where the theme was staying. Here's Janelle, live at the mall. Fall 2003, when I packed up my hopes, my dreams, and too many hoodies, and landed in good old St. Joseph, Missouri.

Intergenial, eager, and ambitious, and allegedly destined to become a lawyer. At least, that's the plan, but I'm not sure this school could actually produce lawyers, but let's dream big. College came at me fast, and not in a party in late night, ramen kind of way, but still there was a mission in the background to drive. And no, not the motivational drive to succeed. I mean, literally learning how to operate a motor vehicle.

“Here I am in a rural community, stuck with no car, and transportation is key, and you can't get around like you can in the present day by tapping your phone and trusting a stranger with five stars.”

So yes, I'm afraid to drive, and here I am in a rural space meeting a car. Because you see two years prior, I was in an accident where I was driving a purple Hyundai accent as a newly permanent driver.

And I was hit by a Ford F-150, and T-bone and a major intersection. My car spun around like a washer machine on its final cycle until it finally stopped like God himself said, "That's enough."

The accident nearly took my foot away from me. It crushed all the bones in it and broke it off of my ankle. And doctors openly debated whether amputating it was the best option. I still recall being asked to recite the alphabet backwards before surgery, which was the only calm and normalcy before the chaos.

“I remember waking up in a sterile room with my foot hoisted high and a cast as thick as drywall, and it was hanging like a monument of survival.”

My hospital stay was short, but unforgettable, and with the help of a morphine pump, I was able to learn how to walk on crutches and drag the wagon that was now my fragile foot. And from there I was pushed back into society in the middle of a snowstorm, snowboarded into our third story town home, where I had to move from the third floor to the first floor for safety and convenience.

And as I can recall, the first sessions were pretty brutal, but little by little I learned how to walk, not necessarily because I wanted to.

“But because I refused to hop, skip, and jump everywhere, especially to the bathroom.”

That accident changed my life. It taught me how to endure pain while walking, what my endurance was, and even what shoes I could wear. But most importantly, it changed my relationship with driving.

I didn't drive, I stopped, I never got my license, because now driving came with fear and drama.

It just wasn't about a ride of passage, it actually was a roadblock, and you know in the Midwest, driving is like a form of currency. So now here I am in college, basically, cause playing as a licensed driver.

“Because people can understand you not having a car, but not having a license at my big age, very embarrassing.”

But I managed to maneuver through five years of asking for rides and catching rides, getting all of the favors in.

In fact, I had built my own underground Uber network, powered by sorority sisters and fraternity roles, and all of the relationships I built along the way with my brilliant personality.

Here I am, five years, 18 through 25, without a car, without a license and sight. In fact, I haven't driven once, I haven't come close to a steering wheel, the closest I've come to drive in may be a bumper car at an amusement park, which scared me or play station's grand theft auto. But now in my mid-20s, I'm a college graduate, and I'm tired of asking for rides. In fact, I'm afraid that public transit might be the next step and I've heard stories. So now it is time to shift, shift into bravery and get my driver's license or die trying.

Now my stepfather approached me with a good option. He offered me a brand new black Mississippi sheet with leather seats in a sunroof, which is a great deal, and the only cost was that I just had to give my driver's license. That's right, this man said he would give me a car for absolutely free and the title if I got my driver's license, and to most people, that sounds like a good deal, right?

To me, that's like asking for a million dollars, I didn't have it.

But as the great Alan Iverson once said, it's just practice.

“So that's what I did, I practiced, I got that stupid blue book from the DMV, and I learned the art of driving through online tests and reading that book.”

And eventually I got some test laps around the neighborhood supervised in my brand new use, Mississippi sheet. And I started to feel confident, like I have been driving the last eight years of my life. I mean, I'm driving down these two lane residential streets ready. I'm so confident at some point I paused and wondered, do I actually know how to drive or have I just memorized the neighborhood? Now it's time to move forward and take the driver's test, and no one tells you how scary the DMV is.

It's nasty. It's cold, it's dimly lit. But here I am taking this test, and I'm proud to announce that I emerged from the cold, nasty, dimly lit DMV clutching a passing score. Yeah. Only after two tries, which is not bad for a product of an open admissions college.

Now on to the driver's test, I'm nervous, I'm afraid because again, it's been eight long years of fear.

Unfortunately though, I have met my match because the instructor giving the test is extremely friendly.

“Like way too friendly, which led to us having great conversations, which means I missed every turn she told me to take.”

I was talking with my hand, like I had been driving for years. I think the only time I was at 10 to 2 is when we started the car. But now it was time for the final portion of the driver's test, which is parallel parking, the final boss. Before I could even turn the wheel, she said, stop, you don't know what you're doing. That will conclude the test.

But you've passed. Now here I was thinking that I was a forever passenger princess, but I heard the words pass. I've passed, I'm a licensed driver, OMG.

“And life is funny like that. Once I got my license, I didn't just sit around.”

I decided to relocate from Kansas City, Missouri to Houston, Texas. Which is crazy for a person who's only driven on the highway for a time. But it was fun. It was eight long years, eight long years, while I've held myself accountable for not driving. And now I'm driving in eight. The symbol eight, which looks like the infinity sign, which ironically is tattooed on my right once shattered ankle. And underneath it says not easily broken.

That tattoo said it all. It says it all. I've triumphed. I've overcome a disability. I've pushed myself out of the cage. I've passed things that took away my adulthood and my womanhood. And now I'm driving. And from Houston, I drove all the way to New York City.

“It's crazy. But life is crazy like that.”

Because driving or riding in the cars, passengers, one thing. But driving by yourself, that is control and that is freedom. And that is steering your own destiny. Thank you. My name is Janelle Banks. Janelle is a comedian, actor, storyteller and artist known for blending sharp humor. Real life experiences in creative expression into unforgettable experiences.

She's also a visual artist, bringing bold energy, authenticity and heart from the stage and screen to every creative space she enters. We asked Janelle what she thought about the events of the story, all these years later. She said, "I'm currently teaching my little sister how to drive and it made me reflect on how much responsibility comes with being behind the wheel." Once you become a driver, you stop thinking about every step. You just start the car and go. But now I notice every decision, every movement, and every moment it takes to drive safely.

One of the things I love about Janelle's story is how she talks about the importance of being willing to sign up for an adventure. Sometimes we think adventures are only zip lining or a bungee jumping, but learning how to drive isn't adventure too.

When I was riding my book of comedic essays never tell a black girl how to black girl, I really enjoyed riding stories about everyday things that become adventures,

like going to a pool party or trying to make new friends. Big thank you to Janelle for reminding us to steer our own destiny and be open to wherever life takes us. After the break, another story about being blindsided, one that's a little less life-changing, but a little more surprising, back in a moment. Welcome back. Our next story is one that I know well because I told it. This is from an Atlanta story slam where the theme was anniversary. Here I am, live at the moment.

This year makes 12 years since I introduced my now husband to my grandmother.

He was my boyfriend then, and I had never brought a man home to meet my family.

I'm also bringing a tall white man with red hair, home. This is a very big deal. I'm mistakenly leave my boyfriend in the living room with my grandmother while I'm in the kitchen doing all the things with my mom and my sister. And when I come back, I can't hear what my grandma is saying, all I see is her doing this with her bra straps.

“And I'm just like, why would you be doing that talking to my boyfriend?”

But when I get closer, I realize they're in a conversation about swimming. And my boyfriend is telling my grandma how he loves to work out by swimming. And she's like, oh, I try to get these girls to learn how to swim.

And they won't never learn and me, I would learn, but you know I'm top-heavy.

And I would meet a swim suit that would have white straps, so we could really hold me in. And my boyfriend says, well, let me know if you ever find that swim suit. I don't mind taking you out to the pool as something. You know, I can show you how to flow and she said, oh, man. After we got engaged, I go to visit my grandmother and she says, come sit down.

I got some advice, some relationship advice, and I'm like, please, tell me whatever this is. And she says, I want you to remember, don't kiss Matt too hard.

“At this point of the story, I'm having to decide, do I want to know why?”

My grandma's telling me not to kiss my thin fiancé too hard, but I'm too nosy, so I say, go on.

[ Laughter ] Make sure you don't kiss him too hard, Nina, because you know why people bruise me. [ Laughter ] At this point, I don't know if you've seen the color purple. But at this point, my mother is running towards the kitchen with the same energy.

Shug Avery is running towards Seely when Seely went to shave Mr. and Shug Avery thought the Seely was going to kill Mr. But my mom thought that my grandma was going to really tell me something that maybe we can't, like, I'm here. So my mom runs, runs, runs, gets to the kitchen. Mom, listen, you don't need to tell Nina how hard she can kiss Matt or not. They're about to get married. You don't need to worry about that.

At this point, my grandma says, "Well, you've tell me to watch it right here." [ Laughter ] Anyways, so by the time Matt and I get married, I realize my grandmother and my now husband have developed this very chummy relationship that apparently began with a wide strap swimsuit conversation. Further developed to my grandmother noticing a mark, I left on my fiance.

I don't know the vibes there. And now my grandmother is very concerned about Matt all the time. I come to her and tell her that I've just returned from the mall. Here is the dress I purchased. Here is what I had for lunch. That sounds wonderful, Nina. What'd you give, Matt?

[ Laughter ] Oh, that's it. What sounds like it was delicious? Did you buy Matt something? And it is a wonderful and unfortunate thing in your life.

“When you feel like you have to sort of keep an eye on your grandmother because she might steal your man.”

[ Laughter ] The last moment I had with my grandmother was about my brother-in-law who is my husband's younger brother, also a tall red-headed white man. Came to our home this Thanksgiving. My grandmother walks right up to him, squeezes his bicep, looks at his wife and says,

"Hmm, you made a man out of you." [ Laughter ] And my sister-in-law had a moment where it's like a couple of thoughts across her mind, right?

Like the first thought is like, "Wait, what?"

But then the second thought was actually like pride. You know, like I think something came across her mind, like, "Maybe I did make a man out of you." And as soon as my grandmother walked away, I turned to my sister-in-law and I said,

"She's sweet, but watch her."

To this day, my grandma and my husband still have their own little rituals.

“When she comes over to our house, he makes her coffee,”

and she giggles when she tells him how much sugar and cream to put in it. I still think she loves him a little more than me. As I record this right now, my grandma is staying with me. I told her I was sharing a story about her on this podcast,

and I told her what she said in this story.

She replied, "I said that?" Yes, you said that.

“I love how my grandma has selective memory,”

especially when she says something funny. That brings us to the end of our episode.

Thanks so much for listening.

We hope that this week and every week, all your surprises are pleasant. Amina Brown is a writer, spoken word poet, performing artist and mall storyteller,

“whose new collection of essays never tell a black girl”

how to black girl is available now. If you'd like more Amina, we actually just featured another story of hers on the Moth Radio Hour. It's in the episode called American Dreams,

which dropped just last week. So take a listen. This episode on the Moth podcast was produced by Sarah Austen-Geness, Sarah Jane-Johnson and me, Mark Solinger.

The rest of the Moth's leadership team includes Gina Duncan, Christine Inorman, Marina Cluchai, Jennifer Hickson, Jordan Cardinale, Caledonia Cairns, Kate Tellers, Suzanne Rust, and Patricia Orenya.

The Moth podcast is presented by Odyssey, special thanks to their executive producer, Leah Ries Stennis. All Moth stories are true as remembered by their storytellers. For more about our podcast, information on pitching your own story,

and everything else, go to our website, TheMoth.org.