Part 5: Get Some Gone

A quick note before we begin, this episode includes descriptions of violence. - I mean, half of us can't, we can't afford to move up out of here. Get some gong. I already said get some gong. - You got some gongs? - Yeah, I got some gongs. I used to live on Dew Street, but I had to get some gongs. (laughs) - I mean, get somewhere. Bye. (laughs) See ya. - Get some gongs. - Get some gong. - Get some gong? - Get some gong. - That's gotta be a southern thing, right? - It is. - 'Cause if you said that in Brooklyn, where you looked at you, - Get some gong. - That's pretty much all it means is move quickly. (laughs) - Move. - When you start hearing them shots, get some gong. Somebody tell 'em by robbing you for your little equipment, you better get some gong. (laughs) - I used to live up here, I don't live up here, now I'm gonna have to get away. Get some gong, yep. Yep. I'm Mariba Knight, and you're listening to The Promise, a podcast from Nashville Public Radio. It's about life in public housing, smack in the middle of a city on the rise. One neighborhood, two realities, and the city's bold promise to bring it all together. Episode five, get some gong. It's a saying I heard constantly in East Nashville's James Casey Homes, as if getting away from the dense cluster of decaying apartments was both urgent and fleeting, something to reach out and grab, like catching a comet by the tail. Remember that day from episode two, The Homicide, outside Big Man's apartment? At one point, while police marked the crime scene, Big Man's upstairs neighbor leaned way over her railing, yelled to a friend across the courtyard. "Facebook girl, it's time to get some gong." Hurt. Three simple words that are, in reality, much more complicated. Get some gong. And today, we'll hear the story of one woman, determined to get out of Casey, Nashville's largest public housing complex. And she does. But leaving Casey is rarely a clean break. Oh, hey, is Tanya in? Tanya Shannon grew up in Casey, with her mom and her two brothers. I have a big wall fan with dragons on head and look like that. Today, Tanya lives with her fiancee in a suburb of Nashville, in a tidy condo decorated with a Japanese theme, samurai swords, dragon sculptures, and Buddhas, lots of Buddhas. I have a Buddha picture, I have a Buddha statue, another Buddha statue, my bathroom is the same thing, it has the same thing in there. I don't know, it just brings me peace. Tanya has a round face, dusted with tiny freckles, and short hair, the tips of which are dyed a burnt orange. She always appears totally put together, her eyebrows perfectly arched, her outfits sharp and bursting with color. Then she's obsessively organized. She has this saying, she's always telling her three sons, if you stay ready, you don't have to get ready. And one could fairly say that from the moment Tanya came into this world, she stayed ready. I knew what I was doing in my life, I wanted the opposite of what I had. I wanted the opposite. It was the mid-80s and Tanya was four years old, when her mother Constance left an abusive marriage and moved into Casey. Tanya, who is now 38, is the youngest and the only one of her siblings to make her way out. Her brother died there of an asthma attack. Her other brother has intellectual disabilities and still lives with her mom. When Tanya was young, her mother was on and off public assistance, but most always Constance worked, sewing feed bags at the Worthen factory in Nashville's Germantown neighborhood, or as a line cook at McClelland's, a lunch counter downtown. Tanya says it felt like a normal childhood and a happy one. She loves school, especially kindergarten. We get to go outside and fly kites. Have kite day, we would have bubble gum hunts instead of Easter egg hunts. It just seemed like fun. I love to go to school. I would cry when I was sick and I couldn't go to school. Tanya's memories of growing up in Casey are so vivid. Her recollections are like pressing play on a series of home movies. You know, the ice cream truck would come around and we'd call it a popsicle truck. The ice cream truck would come around and you can buy everything off of there. Pickles, candy apples, chips, any kind of ice cream. I can say it was, I had a good first couple of years and then I think I can say when I turned about 10 and I'd seen someone shot. I mean, my life just kind of changed after that. I wasn't a very happy kid after seeing that. It happened as she and her friends were headed to go swimming at a nearby community center. Her friend's cousin had given them each a dollar to get some candy. Tanya was ecstatic since on the way to the pool was a little corner store. Johnny's eat shop and you could go in there and it had penny candy. But as we're walking, he told us to get down, get down, I'm like, what's going on? So we dug down behind trees and then there was a car over there so we dug down behind it and he got killed. Right in front of us, they shot his brains out. I cried and cried, I was like, I wanna go home. I don't wanna go swimming, I wanna go home. And remember my mom wasn't there yet, but I just sit at home and my friends came up when we were sitting on the porch and we were talking about and I was like, did he die? I know you can get shot in the head and did he die? I just kept saying that and he's like, yeah, he died. It just was so eerie to me. I just couldn't, I didn't feel safe anymore. Tanya said that before the shooting, living in the projects didn't faze her. She was a happy kid, excelling in school, writing short stories about kingdoms made of candy. But after that, her whole world flipped. I just realized that we were in the hood, we were in the projects, but after that it was like, I wanted to either be in someone's house playing with Barbie dolls or something, or being in my own house playing with Barbie dolls. I just didn't feel safe. I didn't feel safe. As Tanya became a teenager, her resolve to get out of KC grew, especially as she watched her friends and classmates start to get stuck. All of my friends, they, I mean, they were having kids young. They were having children at, one of my friends we were in like sixth grade and she was pregnant and we were riding the school bus to sixth grade. But the next thing was, you know, when we got to high school, she dropped out, didn't finish, then she having another one, then she having, it was just like a cycle. And I just knew that I didn't want that. Then at 16, after being with her boyfriend for about two years, Tanya discovered she was pregnant. It took three months before she finally got off the nerve to tell her mom. And I came and I said, "Mom, I got to tell you something. "What? Tell me what?" I was like, "Nothing, man. "You better tell me what you want to tell me. "What is it?" And I just did the pregnancy test on the table and she was like, "What is this?" I was like, "You never seen one before? "Did they not have pregnancy tests when you, "what does this mean, you pregnant?" "That big thing, I thought you was gonna be somebody." You know, I said, "Mom, I can still be somebody." Tanya was a feisty young woman. She had a temper on her. She'd sometimes get into fist fights at school and she'd get suspended. But she was so determined to prove her mother wrong, she'd sneak back to school so she didn't fall behind. She wound up graduating ninth in her class. But it's important to point out that after Tanya's son, Gary, was born, Constance did step up. She took care of him while Tanya was at school, doted over little Gary in ways she'd never done with her own children. The fact is, without her help, Tanya might not have graduated. But as soon as she did, Tanya left, got an apartment nearby with her boyfriend and the baby. - I was downstairs packing some things in the bag. She was like, "What are you going on? "What's all this stuff for you? "Throwing it away, what are you doing?" I said, "No, mom, I'm moving out. "I got my own place." And when she told me, it was like a stab in the heart. She said, "You doing what? "You ain't gonna make it out there. "You're just 18 years old. "What you getting in a project?" And that's what they call living in public housing project. You don't, what you got you a project? And I was like, "No, mom, I don't have a project. "I have an apartment. "I don't want to live over here. "I don't want to be in this environment. "I don't want my son. "I want him to be able to be able to go outside "and play on the playground and, you know, and, no. "No, I don't have a project." Just her saying that just motivated me more to prove to her that I'm gonna make it. Tanya got a job working the front desk at a nonprofit in KC called Martha O'Brien. As much as she wanted to leave the place, she actually liked going back, seeing her friends. And she was a popular employee, connecting well with the clients. Plus, she was able to put Gary in daycare at the center. On the surface, her life seemed pretty good. She'd managed to move out of KC, was living with the father of her child. And with two incomes, the family was financially stable. But in some ways, leaving home brought its own trouble. Tanya's boyfriend, who she'd go on to marry, was really abusive. She would tell her mom, "There were big problems." But she encouraged Tanya to stick it out. They need that daddy, they need that dad. So I stayed with him for years, and he was abusing me and my children. And my mom telling me to stay with him it just stuck in my head, okay, I'm gonna stick it out. He's gonna get better, it's gonna get better. It never got better. But I think I stayed in the abusive relationship with my husband because of my mom. The thing was, Tanya and her mom were more alike than she wanted to admit. Constance herself had been in two toxic relationships. Tanya's older brother had a different father, and when Constance walked in on him with another woman, she'd grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed him. He survived, but the relationship didn't. As the abuse in Tanya's life escalated, she says she found herself hiding knives behind the headboard of her bed, beneath the couch cushion, taped under the sink and her bathroom. 'Cause I knew he would hit me, and I would pull a knife on him. The first time that I ever defended myself, I saw my mama in me and I stabbed him 13 times. We'll be right back. Tanya was never charged with assault since the stabbing was self-defense. And it wasn't until one day, five years ago, after a particularly horrific beating, that she finally left her husband for good. He hit one of their children, an escalation from his usual verbal abuse. And something clicked. It just something popped in my head like, this is the last row, I got to go. You don't start hitting my children now, and it's, no. She walked out, took the kids, and never looked back. Tanya has always been a fighter. She's even got tattoos of boxing gloves, on her arm and on her back. One set for each of her children, who, by the way, are stellar students, the two oldest are in college. And today, she thinks a lot about that fighting spirit, her fight to get out and stay out of Casey, her fight to leave an abusive marriage, and to defy the odds stacked against her as a teen mom. So when Tanya sees old friends or people she's known for years still living in Casey, her feelings get complicated. - In my mind, I feel that I'm judging them. I am, 'cause I know that, as I'm gonna say, my people can do better. - She's not proud of her attitude. It's just, she knows what's possible. I should say, though, it's not lost on Tanya that she had a rare springboard for leaving. A steady job, daycare for Gary, a second income from her boyfriend. And she may have left, but her dedication to Casey, it shows. In the advice she gives the young moms, in the time she spends with their kids. Ms. Fresnel, for example, from episode one, they're really close. Ms. Fresnel is like a second mom to Tanya. They go out to eat, get their nails done. Casey is Tanya's home, and she's determined not to give up on it. Even her mom, a relationship that's beyond strained, almost every day she goes and visits her. In her cluttered apartment on South Fifth Street, with cinder block walls, and a smoke detector that won't stop beeping for a new battery. She sits across from her mother. Usually she plays word games. Some days she brings her groceries, or the company of her teenage son, Mayeri. They talk in short bursts, with long stretches of silence. Today, Tanya's hiding behind a pair of large sunglasses. As we sit in the cramped living room, the walls peppered with Tanya's old school photos. I asked Ms. Constance, if she was proud of Tanya for leaving Casey, or if part of her wished she'd stuck around. - I'm glad she didn't. She got out, and was she good? - Ms. Constance doesn't acknowledge she ever doubted Tanya's ability to make it on her own. - Yeah, I was proud of Tanya. She's never been proud of Tanya. She's always been that ace, you know. I don't know what I'd do with that Tanya. - Tanya says nothing, she just sits there, continues to work on her word puzzle. She tells me later, she was livid, hearing her mother's revisionist history. Ms. Constance, she goes on to talk wistfully about her long ago dreams of buying her own home. - Well, I always wanted on my own house. I always had one in my house. Little white little picket fence with like white picket fence, but I keep saying my ship coming in. So I guess you do to come in when I get ready to go out. - Ms. Constance may never get her house, but change is coming her way. With Casey's big overhaul, every apartment will be torn down, and residents will get new units, with higher income renters living next door. Tanya welcomes the mandated move for her mom, who after living in Casey for the better part of half a century, seems resigned to sticking around. These days, she rarely leaves her apartment. She's never been to any of Tanya's homes. She's Mr. Grandson's birthday parties, basketball games, chess tournaments. It bothers Tanya. - It's like she's stuck in a rut. She stays in the house, and that's just gonna be her life staying in Casey. And I think that's how some of the families there are. It's generational. Your grandmother stays there. Your mom stays there, so you're gonna stay there. And you lead by example. So if they're there, that's what you learned. Your mom will stay here, she's been fine. Okay, I'm gonna do it. And I just decided to do the opposite. I do not want to stay in Casey. This is not why I wanna raise my children. I don't know if it makes people depressed, and stuck in a rut. I don't wanna get whatever the Casey idea, so I don't want it. I can't, I know. No, I don't want it. - If Tanya's story tells us anything, it's that Casey is a complicated place. There are those like Tanya, who have an unwavering drive to get away. And away finds them, pushing them up and out. A steady job, a relationship. Then there are those like Constance, where it's like so much time has passed, that Casey is what makes sense. It's what's feasible. And then there are those where the means to leave just aren't there. And the stakes are just too high, to leave the place that may be far from perfect, but that also happens to be home. Next time on The Promise. Even by housing chief Jim Harbison's admission, it's been a rough summer at Casey. - 10 days ago, another shooting and a murder right here at Casey. We can change that. We can change it here. We can change the mixed income. If you don't believe me, walk through John Henry Hale. Walk through John Henry Hale. We can do that here. - So we go take a walk through John Henry Hale, and we ask, does mixed income really work? - The Promise is a production of Nashville Public Radio. Editing for this episode came from WPLN's Blake Farmer and Neeta Bug. With additional editing by Tony Gonzalez, Emily Siner, and Juliette Marchinelli. This episode was written and produced by me, Mariba Knight. Sound designed by Tony Gonzalez. In fact, checking by Steve Cavendish. The music is by the insider, Fleslitt, MNSL, Wake, and Black Ant, all found through the free music archive. Go to our website, WPLN.org, to see childhood photos of Tanya. Additional photos by photographer Joe Buglewitz, and listen to previous episodes. - You better get some gum. Yeah, you better go on. - Come round, baby. - Yeah. - Come round. Come round. - And I just want to take a moment to say, if today's story resonates with you, if you or anyone you know is experiencing domestic violence, please ask for help. Call the police, or call the National Domestic Violence Hotline. Their number is 1-800-799-7233. They even have a 24/7 online chat feature. Thank you for listening. - Hey, I'm Jacob Lewis. If you like The Promise, check out my podcast, Neighbors. I'm on a quest to make sense of the human experience through the lives of the people in my community. There's something magical about getting an intimate past into someone's world and hearing about moments that transformed them. - I was shot within seconds of exiting my car. - See, what people don't realize is that we all have things that we carry that can bring us together. - Subscribe now on Apple Podcasts or wherever you listen and get to know your neighbors.