“From Chili Champion to Stigmatized: One Mother’s Struggle to Overcome a Haunting Legacy”
I wish my neighbors would judge me on my chili alone instead of on my negligent parenting. But they can’t. They won’t. No matter how fresh the peppers, how juicy the meat, or how perfectly the sour cream counteracts the spice, they have me pigeonholed as the woman whose son put their children in coffins.
Enough is enough.
People are heartbroken, distraught, angry, and they’re taking it out on me. I get it. But if these families really have a score to settle, then why don’t they enter their own chili into the cook-off and try to take me down? It would bring them some closure, and it would bring out my A-game.
Lord knows I could use the competition.
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