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TONYA MOSLEY, HOST:
This is FRESH AIR. I’m Tonya Mosley. At first glance, my guest today, Daria Burke, appears to lead an enviable life. She has a notable career in marketing, a circle of incredible friends, and her resume is adorned with impressive achievements. For the past twenty years, she has mastered the art of managing perceptions—not only her own but also those of major brands like Estee Lauder and Facebook. However, beneath this facade lies a profound narrative that she has long tried to escape. Burke spent her formative years in Detroit during the tumultuous ’80s and ’90s, a time marked by job losses, increasing crime, and the devastating effects of the crack cocaine crisis on families and communities. Her home life reflected this struggle, as both of her parents battled addiction. Childhood was devoid of bedtime stories or birthday celebrations; she and her sister grew up largely looking after themselves.
Burke describes feeling a deep sense of shame while navigating life until a pivotal moment a few years ago. She stumbled upon a photo of the car accident that took her grandmother’s life when Burke was just seven years old. Her grandmother was the one constant source of safety in her early life, and that image unleashed a torrent of suppressed grief, prompting a four-year journey into the realms of brain science, trauma research, and epigenetics—the study of how our environment affects gene expression. Burke even underwent a 3D brain scan to explore how trauma had altered her brain. This journey is detailed in her memoir, “Of My Own Making.”
Daria Burke, welcome to FRESH AIR.
DARIA BURKE: Thank you so much for having me. It’s a true honor.
MOSLEY: To start our conversation, I want to go back to the moment you learned about the details surrounding your grandmother’s tragic accident. This took place around 2017, during what was supposed to be an ordinary evening of dinner and television. On a whim, you decided to Google your grandmother’s name, leading you to an article that revealed her car had stalled on the freeway before being hit from behind. She was en route to pick you and your sister up for church.
BURKE: Yes, she took us to church every Sunday, so it was a routine we looked forward to. On that particular day, she had actually passed our exit. When her car was found, she was already beyond where she would have turned to collect us and head to church.
MOSLEY: What do you think led her to miss the exit?
BURKE: I’ve considered two possibilities. One is that she may have felt she should go to church by herself. This was before cellphones, so she wouldn’t have been able to call us to say she wouldn’t be coming. That seems unlikely, but it’s crossed my mind. Another possibility is that she was on autopilot, driving a route she had traveled countless times, which might have caused her to temporarily zone out.
MOSLEY: What did your grandmother symbolize for you, not just as a loving figure but in terms of confronting the darker elements of your childhood that you had been avoiding?
BURKE: She represented a time when everything felt secure and loving, even if I can’t recall all the details. After her passing, that safety vanished. I often tell myself that her death marked the end of a period filled with warmth and stability, a time heavily influenced by her presence.
MOSLEY: After her death, your mother began to fall into addiction.
BURKE: Exactly. I have memories suggesting my mother may have been using even before my grandmother passed. My grandma acted as a buffer, providing a stabilizing presence. Once she was gone, my experience of my mother’s addiction became starkly clear. Around ages seven or eight, I began recalling moments that highlighted the change in my mother’s behavior.
MOSLEY: Do you have a specific memory that stands out regarding when your mother’s struggles were evident to you?
BURKE: It’s interesting—at that young age, I wouldn’t have labeled it a “problem.” However, I quickly realized that my experience was different from that of my peers. Snacks weren’t waiting for us after school, and dinner often felt like a scavenger hunt. My first instinct to hide our situation developed at ages eight or nine, as I became aware that our home life was far from normal.
MOSLEY: Did you ever feel alienated from your friends given your household dynamics? You curtailed visits to your home so the truth wouldn’t come out, and you often lacked a phone to share your number. Did others ever seem to sense something was amiss?
BURKE: Not during my younger years. If classmates suspected anything, they never vocalized it. I believe some friends had their tumultuous backgrounds, making it easier for everyone to focus on their own struggles. I remember a song from the ’90s about another child being taunted with, “Your mama’s on crack.”
MOSLEY: That song seems pretty striking.
BURKE: Yes, I remember feeling a wave of panic each time I heard it, fearing someone would uncover that it echoed my reality.
MOSLEY: What form did the poverty in your life take?
BURKE: My mother didn’t work, and we rarely received child support from my father. We relied on public assistance, which totaled around $500 a month. Food stamps made up a large portion of that, while the rest barely covered our mortgage and utilities—often unpaid. Grocery trips were rare, often limited to the beginning of the month, and what we received generally had to last until it ran out.
We often scavenged for meals, relying on school lunches, and I was on the free lunch program. I recall a time when I resorted to stealing food from a store because we had nothing at home.
MOSLEY: That’s quite vivid. You actually rode your bike to store and filled a bag with food?
BURKE: I did. At nine years old, I loaded a duffel bag with whatever I could. The first time, I got away with it, feeling proud I’d secured food for us. But the second time, I was caught by a security guard, who ultimately let me go after I explained my circumstances.
MOSLEY: Let’s pause for a moment. If you’re joining us now, I’m speaking with Daria Burke about her memoir “Of My Own Making.” Her story captures a childhood lived amidst the crack cocaine crisis in Detroit and her subsequent journey toward success.
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MOSLEY: Back with Daria Burke, we’re delving into her new memoir, which comes from a place of pain yet leads toward triumph. It’s about the journey of overcoming a troubled upbringing marked by instability and addiction while manifesting a polished public persona.
MOSLEY: Did you ever find it difficult to accept what was happening with your parents? While you knew your father wasn’t around often and learned of his addiction, did you ever deny your mother’s struggles?
BURKE: No, there were times I hoped she might be recovering. I was perceptive enough to recognize any glimmer of improvement, though relapses were equally devastating when they occurred.
MOSLEY: You fantasized about escaping Detroit during your childhood, a sensation of deeper longing for a different life. How did you develop this sense, despite your limited exposure to alternate lifestyles?
BURKE: It was a form of faith—an intrinsic understanding that something better existed beyond my reality. Exposure through media, especially television and books, provided glimpses of different lives. I remember fondly the uplifting portrayal of families on shows like “The Cosby Show,” offering a stark contrast to my world.
MOSLEY: What were some of the books that transported you to those alternate realms?
BURKE: By age 10, I found myself drawn to Danielle Steel’s works. I was immersed in romance novels, much different from what my peers were reading.
MOSLEY: Your polished appearance often leads people to assume you work in television. In your role as a marketing executive, when did you begin to intentionally craft your own image?
BURKE: That instinct developed early on. I felt the need to present myself in ways that countered public perception of my home life. It stemmed from an instinctual fear of being separated from my family if people knew the truth.
MOSLEY: Daria, thank you for sharing your journey with us today. Your memoir, “Of My Own Making,” serves as an inspiring testament of resilience.
BURKE: Thank you so much for this wonderful conversation.
MOSLEY: Daria Burke’s memoir is “Of My Own Making.” Stay tuned, as critic-at-large John Powers reviews “The Golden Hour,” a book examining the evolution of the movie industry in America since the 1950s.
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