17 Oct
2026
My mother and I have never talked about the past. And still, I chose to forgive her. That choice did not come from a perfect ending. It came from a hospital bed, after brain surgery, when I finally understood what holding on was costing me. This is what I wrote about it in my memoir Neglected But Undefeated.
I will keep this part short. My grandparents raised me in Jamaica until I was six, and their love was everything. When I came to live with my mother in Miami, I met neglect and abuse instead. She beat me, often kept food from me, and more than once put me out of the house, starting when I was eight. As a teenager I slept in parks, at bus stops and on friends' couches. She told me she hated me and wished I had died.
The subtitle of my book says it simply: “The life of a boy who never knew a mother’s love.”
If a child is in immediate danger, call 911. In the U.S., the Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline is 1-800-422-4453.
For years, forgiveness made no sense to me. As a teenager I asked, “Why should I show love to one who doesn’t care for me or show any love to me?”
But I had also made promises. Before I left Jamaica, my grandparents told me she was my mother and not to believe her when she said she hated me. My grandmother told me to respect and love my parents the way I loved my grandparents. Even at my angriest, I held on to my promise to my grandparents. And I wanted my little brothers to have a mother to grow up with.
On January 30, 2006, I had surgery to remove a tumor from my brain. Two days later, on my nineteenth birthday, I decided I would look at that day as a new year, a new life and a new me.
That same day I made up my mind that I would have to find a way to forgive my mother and look past what she had put me through. I saw holding on as something that would keep me from striving in life. I also promised myself that I would focus on success and not on the past.
In other words, the past would keep holding me back unless I found a way to let it go. Notice what that decision was not. It was not my mother apologizing. It was not the two of us fixing everything. It was me deciding that my future mattered more than my pain.
When I published my book, I included a message to my mother. I told her I had love for her and thanked her for giving me life.
That may surprise some readers. Forgiving her never meant deciding that what happened was all right. It meant refusing to let hate decide who I would become.
A childhood full of hate and pain
She gave to me
However now,
A future of happiness and success
I’m working toward for myself
Proving nothing to no one else
But myselfI was destined to be
— Jonathan Anthony Burkett, Neglected But Undefeated (2012)
I want to be honest, because forgiveness is often sold as a happy ending. I don't believe my mother and I will ever have a typical mother-and-son relationship. We have never talked about the past. When she hands me lists of chores, I sometimes feel used. My brothers are the main reason I visit.
That is what forgiveness looks like for me: no revenge, no hatred I carry around, and also no pretending. I can forgive her and still protect my heart. Forgiveness is not a single moment. It is a choice I keep making, especially on the days when old feelings come back.
If someone who was supposed to love you hurt you, here is what I have learned:
“Anger makes you smaller, while forgiveness forces you to grow beyond who you were.”
— Jonathan Anthony Burkett
And to every parent reading this, I wrote another line for you: “Instead of treating your child like how you were treated. Treat them with the same love and attention you wanted from your parents while growing up.”
The whole story of how I got here is in my memoir. You can find it on my Books page.
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