My father wasn't really involved and my mom is the light in my life.

The real estate agent had to go door-to-door in the apartment building we wanted to rent, asking if it was OK for this interracial family - my mom is white and I was a 1-year-old half-African kid - to live in the apartment building.

My dad never blew anything up, but he probably had friends who did. He and my mom have always preached that the pen is mightier than a Molotov cocktail.

I grabbed my mom and I went to the couch and I said, 'Mom I want to ask Jesus to come into my heart.' And I got on my knee and I asked Jesus to come into my heart, forgive me of my sins, and make me a child of God.

My mom used to make everything. She had a great garden and composted and made everything from scratch - peanut butter, bread, jelly, everything. I don't know how she did it because all those things take time and love and labour. I only do half the stuff she does - but there's still time.