DEON REECE
I
am from devilside, From hell and bullets. I am from the ground, Anger, hate, confusion. I am from devilside, Dirt, rocks, cocaine. I’m from devilside and burnside, From the ground and confusion. I’m from the confusion and bottom, From hell and bullets. I’m from Chicago and killers. I’m from God’s plan. Chicago, the north. .
Street principles will bring you down. — Deon Reece
Misunderstandings Deon Reece
H
ave you ever respected someone, but felt violated every time you came in contact with them? I remember when I used to be out in the streets and gangbanging as a youth. About 2013, nighttime in Logan Square: I was on Lawndale Street and I was with a group of associates, or friends, whatever you want to call it. We were deep in number, meaning we were outside with a lot of people, and the police were called. I guess because they showed up and we all ran, because no one wanted to be handcuffed or taken to jail. Because normally in the neighborhood the police would take people to jail for very minor things. I believe because they weren’t locking up as many people as they’d like to for crimes in those neighborhoods. But as I chose to run, a policeman seen me running and pursued to catch me. Mind you I was only 14 years old, I wasn’t as fast as I thought for this adult policeman. Well I did try to hide and he seen me. Anyway he tackled me. He told me don’t move. Put his gun on me and placed his finger on my butthole. I’m assuming to look for drugs. Normally police do it to adult drug dealers who try to hide drugs. But I felt violated, weird, and I’m sure that wasn’t appropriate to do, due to my age. Which makes me bring up another story, similar, that makes me believe that this system is prejudiced. Another time it was just
me and only two homeboys. The police seen us walking at night and decided to pull us over, for what reason, I don’t know. Maybe the way we looked, because they didn’t have a call of reasonable articulable suspicion that linked us to a crime. But my homie was carrying a gun, so he ran and they chased him. By us being with him, they called back-up for us all. Long story short, the one with the gun got away and me and my other homeboy gave up running and hiding and came out to a squad car police pulling up on us with our hands up, placing our hands on the hood of the car, basically giving up. For some reason a police officer from a block away thought it was appropriate and necessary to run past my homeboy who was in front of me on that police officer’s side. He had to pass my homeboy, who is Mexican, to get to me and that’s what he did. Already giving up and being helmed up on the car, that police officer passed my homeboy and tackled me to the ground. 14-year-old me, giving up, still a threat I guess. He searched me on the ground, of course. We went to jail. Both stories just tell me the system has to be against black people, because I know everything that was done to me wrong was racist. Most importantly I was violated of my rights, because none of these actions should’ve happened. I know it didn’t happen to anyone else I was with, because they weren’t black. I felt hated. I was assaulted and powerless. I want people to know it’s because of these experiences that I dislike the police. It’s also why young people in the neighborhood have these problems as well—feeling powerless and scared for their actual freedom, their lives.
Growth
W
Deon Reece
aiting in the dorm with fellow residents, anticipating our release from jail. A number of us waiting to be free. I can tell you I felt nervous, happy, excited all at the same time. I never knew how a person waiting for their freedom felt, literally. Time comes and I can hear my heart and my breathing slowing. Then I see my mom with “normal street clothes” for me to wear, something I haven’t felt, let alone put on, in 2 years and 3 months. It felt new for me, like a rebirth, like a second chance. Going into the bathroom putting those clothes on, I felt different. After hugging my mom long and tight, I still did not feel free until we walked out of the doors and I didn’t have to be escorted in handcuffs. I heard the wind, felt fresh air, seen birds, actually felt rain for once in a long time. I was waiting with my mom for an Uber, something that was new to me. I didn’t know that could be a job. What about taxes? I guess the world evolved around me, and I did, too. I was home but still with an unsure feeling of what to do next. Getting in the Uber with my mom felt good. My first ride home in two years. It was my first ride without handcuffs in two years. I was free. Being released from IYC Chicago in April of 2017 was a life-changing experience for me. I was incarcerated at the age of 16 for a crime that I was connected with and I was charged as an adult. Two years of my precious childhood, or teenage years I should say, were wasted for decisions I decided to make as a youth. I spent those two years hearing screams, seeing fights everyday, staff assaults, you name it. I was released two short-butlong, grueling, affective years later and it was a blessing to be out. The law changed for a lot of crimes and a lot of people were being released.
It was a good thing for me because I could start over and not squander opportunities that might come my way. Fast forward two years later in the month of May: I still stand believing being out of jail was a life-changing experience, knowing what I have now, a life and a girlfriend and a baby on the way. I am working to get myself financially secure. I want to work for what I’ve never had and I can see now that I have a lot to lose. So I continue pushing myself and working hard, even though I’m going through mixed emotions and understandings of life, sometimes not caring, feeling that there is at times nothing to care for, but that’s wrong. Sometimes you can’t help with what’s wrong and you just have to live with it. That feeling lives with you and it’s the question of what is it that bothers you? To answer that myself I just try new coping mechanisms each day to feel a different yet better feel. Going to jail took time away from my life. Age 16, age 17, very important years to live and experience and I was in gladiator school. So now looking back, I think I needed it to slow down my fast, misfit pace. To collect understanding, gain knowledge, to be able to look inside and outside of the box of life and scenarios. Knowing and being in those places gives me understanding and now I think I can see a big picture. It’s not correct or perfect. I can’t tell if I got it right or wrong, because I can’t see the picture yet. I am willing and wanting to obtain that good look by accepting and understanding that’s where I want to be—and get there. Shows growth. Shows that I want better, but just need to take my time to paint my own picture. That way it will make more sense to me. I’ve learned that education really is the key, not the key to the streets. For me, education is your independence. People get distracted being young, by females, boys, drugs, whatever your distraction is. I feel the purpose of life is to focus on my independence. Get my life together, even before relationships with spouses. Thinking of marriage and the future, a person
shouldn’t be struggling hard. A person should be situated financially, which is a better look. That way marriage, and a lot of things, come easier in your life because you worked hard and minded your business when you were supposed to. Waking up, I’m still in a struggle, living with my mom, brother and sister. I find it my priority, my responsibility, to take care of myself and understand how to work and live in this country.
Fly alone. You will get further. — Deon Reece
DOUGLAS HOOD
I
’m from a sinkhole, From Android to Apple. I’m from the controversial gun violence, Rugers, Glocks, blessed to be free, I was standing on top. I’m from candle lights with Heinz on wheat bread. I’m from only affording the bootleg, From Pro Wings, DaDas, dey look good. I’m from pulling one end ’til the other end meet. From Patricia now suffering from arthritis to eat. I’m from loving so hard that went unexpressed. Food for thought them jewels ain’t digest. I’m from mischief, disbelief, eternal quiet. Skip church, I love cement. I’m from a phantom of a father, 3-year-old pulling strings On his guitar in the closet. I’m from despair...
Life is subjective; I’ve been vulnerable.
Rather be great; 1010 in progress. Since it's simple, why the confusion? — Douglas Hood
Keeping It Bloody
D
Douglas Hood
ecember 22, 2017, was the highly anticipated date, the last day I would be considered and referred to as “inmate.” I was scheduled for release from Danville Correctional Facility after doing a sevenyear stretch for a shooting that occured back when I was 17 years old. The pain I've endured over those seven years was worse than any whooping, broken bone, gunshot wound, or terminal illness I may or may not have. To know you’re needed and missed so dearly while being held against your will is devastating. I hated visits because during my visits I would get this overwhelming feeling of warmth and love. Once the CO announced, “The visit is over,” it was time to say our goodbyes. Every time my heart was snatched out of my chest, threw to the ground, stepped on and disposed of. Upon my arrest I was leaving a gorgeous baby girl only 6 months old out in this cold world fatherless and vulnerable, just as statistics predicted and said I would. It use to feel like I'll never see her beautiful smile that heats my heart like a summer day, hot enough to cook eggs on the pavement in July, again. Despite County visits and prison visits, I felt hurt for so many reasons. I think the biggest was the fact I became a burden on my family. Mrs. Richmond had to travel a 5-hour commute just to visit me so I can see my daughter, whether she drove or rode the bus service, which charges families to transport them to prisons to see their incarcerated family. Either way she made it possible for me to establish a bond with my daughter. Another way I became a burden was the cost of living in prison. Baffling, right? It's hella expensive to survive inside that barbed wire.
Money on the phone, commissary, visits—back to the subject, doe. I was getting released and the craziest part is I wasn't scared the day I got locked up, but I was terrified the day I came home. It’s two days you remember in prison—going in and getting out. Yet here I am terrified but so excited. So much adrenaline flowing through my body, seconds from overdosing and my system cleaner than the Board of Health. The whole drive back to Chicago, all I could do is think about what reaction I would get from my princess. I knew my momma would cry the moment she set eyes on me. I knew my lil brother was gone be over tee’d just off the strength. He ain’t seen me since I left the County and that was 6 years ago. I really didn't care to see my homies; all I craved was that love and embrace of my family. I still to this day don't understand how the hell I been in shootouts and wasn't scared, but here I am pulling up to my momma house terrified, not knowing what to expect. First person I saw is my oldest sister. We wasn't rocking during my bid but seeing her was illuminating. My second oldest sister, she a straight bugg. She got to snapping on my homie baby momma because I made a detour before coming straight to the house. I felt bad because she ain’t have nothing to do with me making a detour. It was loving of her, despite her acting like a nut. Seeing that level of concern in that moment, she resurrected my heart with the strongest RPM. Next person I saw was my daughter momma. I kind of knew she’d be there to welcome me back home. Same time I felt she wouldn’t be there because she had just had a son. Uncertain if I would be mad and hurt about having a son while I was locked up. To answer that, no, I wasn't, because real niggas never stress particles (lil shit). Then my cousin Andre came out the house. I'm just thinking like, damn, I came home to actually enter the house, not be outside. Whole family was lit I was back. Finally the bum rush was over and I walked in the house. It was full of all family. Like I had the honor of meeting my niece for the first time. She
knew exactly who I was. Before I could greet her, she said, “Hey Uncle Dougy, I missed you.” That showed me even doe I wasn't seeing family on a consistent basis, I was still reminisced about. My sister always telling the kids stories, installing me in their hearts. I was in the kitchen greeting everyone when I heard a deep voice on the side of me say, “What up boi?”’ I look to see who had greeted me and didn't recognize who it was. “Who is you?” He like, “Damn, you forgot who I was?” I had to really look at the facial features. Then it hit me, it was my oldest nephew, Khalil. “What the hell boy, you big as hell!” Crazy seeing how now my little brother and my nephew both taller than me. Andre talking about, “Yea you can't big-bro them anymore.” I had been lifting weights over the last four years and had got super cut up, so I was anticipating this moment but I held back. “Where my momma at?” Then it got quiet. Why I didn’t know, but I just needed to hold and feel her touch again. It's been seven years without feeling my momma tender care and love. When she finally revealed herself from out of her bedroom, it tore my heart down the middle like most black people do receipts. I thought the pain was over but here I am once again feeling this unbearable sharp void in my chest. About 18 months prior to my release, I had learned that my momma had suffered a stroke. The only person who thought to tell me was my daughter mother. She knew if I was to get out and saw her in her current state, I would lose it. Mentally I didn't lose it but emotionally I did. I held my composure long enough till I made it to the bathroom. I saw my momma for the first time since 2011 and it's now 2017. Momma was walking the last time I saw her on visit, but now she's in a wheelchair. Momma had lost a lot of weight; she looked nothing how I remembered her. My heart broke once again, but the best thing about the human body is that it heals itself. I received the warmest, most loving hug and kiss I ever got in my whole life. I felt like I was fresh out the nursery after being born. Right after that encounter which I longed for 7 years, I retreated to the bathroom to gather my composure.
I couldn't hold it no longer. I got in that bathroom and to my surprise I felt comfortable. Maybe ‘cause I had spent the last 7 years out my life living in a bathroom. I started talking to myself in the mirror. “It's not your fault Momma had a stroke, Dougy.” That was what I told myself over and over. Yet I still felt it was my fault and then came the tears. I was broken on the happiest day of my life. Here I was feeling guilty for giving my momma a stroke. I hated myself in that moment and wished IDOC had never released me. Boom, boom, boom was the knocks on the door from my oldest sister, Tiffany. “You ok?” she ask and I replied yes, but that was a lie.
Boom, boom, boom. Tiffany knocked again and I answered. Tiffany asked what's wrong due to seeing the redness in my eyes. “It’s Momma, I can't handle seeing her in this weak state. It's all my fault, me doing all that time stressed her out. I’m a screw-up.” Tiffany kept it bloody with me. “Yea you played your part, but it's not all your fault. Why you was gone we all did and played a part in Momma’s health decline. You can't carry all the blame for Momma’s health decline because you wasn't here. You wasn't the only source of stress. Let it go and continue to move forward in life like she would want you to.” I realized she was right and began to pull myself together. Once I felt that pain subside, I was ready to exit the bathroom. Coming out the bathroom, it was two other people I had to see and feel they touch. Darriel, my little princess, the one person in this world I’ll forever feel in debt to because I left her in this world all alone, fatherless. The moment I yelled, “Where my daughter at,” it got quiet once again. Then she emerged from the crowd of family and friends. To see her, not behind a glass or a steel table, but where I'm allowed to reach over to hug and kiss her—it melted my heart. She was so gorgeous with her long beautiful hair and her royal smile, that shined for three summers straight. We had the entire house pulling their phones out, snapping they soul away to capture our golden moment. Missing out her life since she was 6 months of age, and to have her embrace me in the warmest moment, sent tears pouring down my momma, sister’s, and down both of our faces. We broke the internet in that very moment like Moneybagg Yo.
After all the pictures and embracing, I was ready to eat the ribs I requested and turn up off D'Ussé (my favorite drink). Once my liquor kicked in, I immediately began looking for my daughter momma. I been missing her the whole duration I been gone. I was like a lion in search for his lioness. “Public service announcement, everybody get out!” All I remember was hearing my momma dying laughing, and me and my future wife going into the boom boom room. Now look at me. I was petrified at first, not knowing what to expect from all my love ones. I missed them so deeply to levels unexplored at the ocean’s depths. All I feared was just an illusion. I’m still loved. Darriel do cherish me as her father. I’m not identified by an ID number anymore. I’m here to strengthen and help my momma fully recover from her stroke. I’m officially back with all opportunities to redirect my life back to its God-given course.
Mom died, soul lost, what’s next?
Do the work. Fail. Try again. 5-piece chicken, mild sauce, Mystic. — Devonta Boston
DEVONTA BOSTON
I
live Somewhere betweeeeeeeen A jail cell ’n gangland Better defined as a system built against me Oppression always told me Life is like a Revolver You never know when it’s gonna hit Russian roulette ’N these kids that tote tools is just rushing to let Them thangs blast BANG! Gunshot 1 Julius Campbell... Body found in a Lagoon Gunshot 2 Dominique... Kidnapped, raped, body Found in a suitcase Gunshot 3 Davion... Shot in front of an Elementary school Gunshot 4 Trayvon... Shot ’n killed Gunshot 5 Daniel Erskin... Shot ’n killed Gunshot 6 A good day RIP to my dear friends, I’ve been pouring my Drank out for them ever since And the list just keep growing...
Damn... Imma need a bigger bottle Sirens play me a ghetto lullaby Red & blue lights a put a nigga to sleep Rock a bye baby, sing me a song please Blicky blicky blicky blick Coppas gonna shoot another one ’N if that coppa don’t shoot you DEAD The government will make sure another will Will... Will... The same will passed down by the whites That states Hold them niggas back by any means necessary Even if they have a Dream Shoot them niggas down Never give them a seat at the round table... Sit they ass in the BACK If they protest asking if we can really treat them like this Tell ’em
Yes we can... Yes we can, black nigga... See... Da system got a noose around my neck Ready to pull the chair from under me at any second People ask me, Tae, what’s the most extreme sport you ever did... I say shidddddd Living while black We wear PTSD as a full bodysuit As a African American The symptoms go unknown ’Cause we don’t know how to talk about it Our culture is a worldwide fetish, but I’m more likely to meet a bullet Than the Love Of My Life I’m young, I’m black, with a hell of an attitude living unapologetically How the hell am I suppose to believe in a system that don’t believe In me? People wonder why black people got trust issues. The same people That’s suppose to protect us put bounties on our heads. Black Lives Matter wouldn’t matter if we mattered—black lives—because
That black life would’ve mattered before that black life was taken. There’s a paradox and a tongue twister for ya. Living in bonded Illusions that we live in the land of the free, home of the brave... More like land of the niggas, home of the slaves. With that said... Here we stand... a slave to our environment... don’t Wanna be another mfkn casualty... so we assume the position... Hands up... and hope we walk away alive Chicago Chicago, can’t you see... what these gunshots have done to me Chicago Chicago, can’t you see... what these gunshots have done to Me
Watched steps becomes new followed movement.
Left-behind friends become new enemies. — Devonta Boston
Dear Mama D evont a Bo st on
D
ear Mama... Land of Kings & Queens I hear it’s a god
But You were more of a god to me than god ever was A goddess! ’N this ain’t no god diss To god diss just what it is Right, Mama? Mama? No response Early dismissal Taken off the earth too soon Too many unexcused absences Hello? Mama?! HELLO?! It’s DCFS Dependent Child Facing Suicidal-thoughts Hello? Mama?
I still need you I’m a big boy now, but I’m still not grown Preparations couldn’t prepare Trauma I experienced that day Ever lasting Body branded I was forced to pledge that day Mama... I play re-runs in my head 24-hr marathons Coming home to you in the bed Lifeless Mama! I screamed I shouted MAMA! Ma, Ma, Mama! The boy who cried wolf This time you really ain’t answering Mama I never felt so helpless in my life As I watched yo body leave in a body bag... Parts of me left too... Mama My purpose
My will to live My soul My motivation Mama... Part of me wanted to be in that body bag with you... Flashbacks takes me back into depression Relapse I hate that these memories of you Are now tears in my eyes Like How we got fries every day after school How yo hugs embraced me and my demons How you was always proud of me. Seen yo son on billboards across the city... instead of a T-shirt Now what’s an accomplishment if I don’t have you to share It with Or Every Christmas and birthday you gave me Yo last Sacrificed yours, for mines A smile on my face, put one on yours If there was ever a beneficial trade-off... this would be it Mama...
When You use to whoop me I didn’t quite understand But Now I get the lessons Seen the things you had to endure ’Cause daddy wasn’t around much Use to see me, but from a distance So you loved me twice as hard Single-parent household, but it felt like two Played mama & daddy 2 for 1 Special Priceless Affectionate & Aggressive Double A Battery Kept me charged up Mama A mother’s sacrifice is unmatched So I’m Grateful & forever indebted To you Mama May 5th 1962, black girl magic was born
June 17th 2018... You took your last steps... The steps I am now taking To carry on Your legacy. ’N I didn’t say it much But... Mama... I love you...
Written in stone. We need new stone. — Devonta Boston
You’re running fast on that treadmill.
I got bifocals, still can’t see. Guilty until proven innocent. — Jonte Durr
JONTE DURR
I
am from the Amistad where most of my brothers Jumped overboard because they knew death Would be better than what was to come When they touched land in the 13 colonies. I’m from Mississippi where we picked cotton ’Til our hands bleed, Where black woman get pregnant And the white man take our seeds. I’m from Chicago where we come To avoid getting hanged. I’m from trauma of over 400 years Of getting beat with whips and chains. I’m from Cabrini Green, 714 Killas, Drug deals, raper mans, and feens. I’m from the Amistad. I watched as it row Down the stream, but I was sleep the whole ride ’Cuz they say life is but a dream.
Normal Jonte Durr
O
ne day on the Fourth of July, everybody was outside. I was too young to be outside past 9, according to my mom. But according to me, she was too far to see if I was outside or not. So here I was playing with fire. I seen three older guys fighting. The fighting got ugly quick and it turned into gunfire. I seen a man get shot in the head right in front of me at the age of 7. But that wasn’t the first or last time I seen something like that. Fast forward ten years later I’m scrolling down my timeline and I see a video of a man getting shot in the head. “Aww, I get it now…” It’s normal for black men to die from gun violence.
Phone Call
“
Jonte Durr Thank you for using Securus. You may start the conversation now.”
Like I want to use this shit. Hello mom, it’s your youngest son, yo baby boy who just turned 20. Yea, I’m in jail, mom. My bond $5,000. I know I don’t got it. I know you don’t got it. So I’m stuck until I can come up with it or I beat my case, whichever comes first. I got caught with a gun, mom. Yea, we got the right to bear arms, but not MFas like me. I’ll be home soon though, ma. They talking about 1 to 3 years. It could be worse, ma. I’m losing friends and family every other month, it feels like. That could be me. You know what’s crazy, mom? This is my first time in jail, but I feel like I’ve been locked up my whole life. I guess freedom ain’t free. This system, where it’s a 1-to-3 chance I become a felon and 1-to-7 chance I die to gun violence, is just stats to everyone on the outside looking in, but these are the odds I face every day just waking up a black man in AmeriKKKa. It’s only so much you can do when you know it’s a setup for you to fail or only make it as far as “the system” let you. Make you want to just go balls out and say fuck it. But I know how that would make you feel, mom. Most of the people that could change it is already dead or in jail with me. I’m feeling angry, lost, and confused, mom. So much pain and stress on my heart at such a young age. I don’t know what to do. Even when I do get out, it’s right back to the same things that lead me here in the first place.
I’m just taking life one day at a time, but every day in jail feels longer and longer. I need you to pray for me, mom. I know you don’t have the money to get me out, but can you at least pray for me? If it is one.
ELIGAH HILL
I
am from Chicago, Illinois. From West Englewood to Woodlawn. I’m from poverty, low-income area, Little black 2-bedroom house, 10 kids running around, Granny getting fed up from all the stress. I’m from the treehouse I built with my own hands, Built from the ground up Using sticks and nails and a hammer. I’m from atheist, From you never knew When the next meal would come, Always had to just pray. I’m from playing in the field with snakes. My old homies talking to the Jakes. Always had guidance, neva had to follow. Always been a man, always faced my problems. I’m from gotta get shit on your own. If somebody give it to you, They’ll throw it in your face. I’m from if you get into it, you can’t show love. ’Cause where I’m from love will get you killed.
Flatline Brain Empty Health Problems.
You work hard, it pays off. Being clever enhances your skills. — Eligah Hill
Wiser
A
Eligah Hill
time I say my childhood was over was when I got locked up for the first time. Me and my homies (it was like 6 of us), we was chilling on the block, on a decent windy chill day. It was a little late outside, probably going on 8 o’clock. We seen some dudes and 2 girls coming down our block, being loud, recording “Hey look, we’re on their block!” and stuff. So we get on their ass, trying to see what’s to them. So come to find out this one of the op’s who was talking shit. So we approach them. I look back to see this car pulling up. It was Kobe; he hop out and next thing I know is we just get to bussin’. I bussed off dude. Quell grabbed him, put him in a full nelson. Then we just beating dude. His homie was just standing there watching. So my homie ManMan crack dude ofn. Then we all ran as dude nem laying on the ground. We go to my house. My homies got dude’s phone, jacket and shoes. We burned the jacket and shoes. I don’t know what happened to the phone. Like 2 days later the police show up at my school. They got me and Kaydee. Fuck. I’m thinking about running. Came to my senses and said fuck it. At the time we could have played it more strategically, but things happened. I did a day in the Audy Home, had to so some community service hours just to pay dude back because I was the oldest. I felt sick to my stomach when I was in that cage for them hours. I ain’t eat, I actually threw up. That place was terrible and nobody deserves to live like that. You gotta listen to others yell at you and talk to you any type of way. They treat you like an animal. The system just not right at all, it’s corrupt. This experience didn’t teach me to handle conflicts differently; it made me not like the police even more.
This shaped me in the way I look at people differently, and see how they see me. I feel that I continue to be stereotyped, and I continue to try let go of the trauma of being locked up. I move differently—how I travel, who I’m with, more conscious of the environment. I’m not a brand-new person, I still hang out with the same people. We just move smarter. I barely go to the block. Now I have more discipline and am wiser. I think critically about situations before actions. Plus I’m working downtown, moving good. Even when I don’t feel like it, I have a job to do. I’ve got to handle my business. Trying not to jeopardize my freedom no more. I got stuff to live for.
RONALD BOLTON
I
am from a cold world. From Jordan and Nike. I am from the East Side, Guns, girls, weed in the air. I am from the nice parks. Be careful, though, Might get some blood on your shoes. I’m from Xbox and Dragonball Z, From Ronnie and Tracey. I’m from wise and giving, From stay in a child’s place and Mind your biz. I’m from “money talk, bullshit walks.” I’m from the lake. Mac ‘n cheese, gym shoes. From the functionally homeless To having a home.
Left, came back, I see it.
It’s an evil world we live in. — Ronald Bolton
Grow
I
Ronald Bolton
had to grow up early. It’s been like this since I was 12, 13 years old. My parents started their divorce when I was in 7th, 8th grade. We lived at 82nd and Oglesby. All I know is, they got into it one night. My dad left out. I asked my mom and she told me, “I asked your father for a divorce.” I’m thinking, damn. I didn’t think that would happen to me. I didn’t think that would end up the way it did, just became a huge split in my family, whole bunch of lies being told. They got into it, my mom got a restraining order against my dad. He was staying at my uncle’s house, his brother’s, just around the corner. He couldn’t come on our house grounds but we would walk right over there. I started acting a certain way, so much emotions and feelings building up. I got into it with my mom once and I just walked out the house, walked to my dad’s and stayed there. My little brothers stayed on at my mom’s. I stayed there probably a year, my freshman year of high school up until my sophomore year. My mom was living in the house that she owned with my dad, but she decided she wouldn’t sell half to anyone with my father's last name. She was on some spiteful shit—she was already gone and moved out but wouldn’t sell us back the house so we had to leave. Now the bank owns that house. My mom moved to 39th and Michigan and I moved down there with her and my little brothers, Tyler and Ryan. My dad moved in with his girlfriend. Things was decent for a while. Maybe three months, maybe four months. My mom started going out more at night, staying out through the night. And then one day she had asked me, could I miss school to take the boys
to school since she wouldn’t be home? At first I thought that was ok, y’know, a day out of school. So since I knew I wouldn’t be going to school the next day, I headed out to my friend’s house. My dad called, FaceTime, and I told him what I was doing, not even thinking about it. He told me to come to him. I don’t know what happened next, but my mom had to alter her plans. That night, I stayed at my father’s house. From that point on, things changed. I was still living with my mom, my stuff was over there, but my mom was fighting with me. Finally some friends went with me over there to grab my shit and move over to my dad’s. While we were there, she asked my friends to go out so we could talk. I tried to wear the big-boy pants but it didn’t work. I told her, “I understand this is a real emotional time for both of us. We should talk about it another time.” And that shit went long out the window. That’s when I learned, people tell you to do the right thing, but sometimes you try, but it just doesn’t work. I was still a sophomore in high school. I stayed with my dad for the rest of high school. I’d see my mom sometimes. I graduated from high school and graduation was actually a really nice time. My whole family came. My mom was there. My dad was there. They kept it copacetic. I event went and moved back to my mom’s house after that. I didn’t go to college, got into a job-placement program instead. My mom was frequently going out of town, Vegas, Indianapolis, Miami, going away for the weekend. I’m watching my mom do what she want. I’m helping and watching Ryan and Tyler. I’m not going to lie, sometimes I would leave them alone. They learned to grow up fast. And I’d be lying to my father about her whereabouts, what’s going on in the crib. At that time, my father’s the one really taking care of us, putting in child support. And my mom, she’s doing what she want, I start thinking, why can’t I do what I want? She asked me for $300 for rent. I told her I’d
get around to it, but I never did. I couldn’t tell her that it wasn’t fair, that there was a lot of wrong shit that she was doing. I couldn’t tell her. That’s my mama. I was telling my uncle, my mama’s brother, about that, telling him that I’m not happy with my mama. But my mama found out and got on me, saying, “Why you telling my business?” And she kicked me out of the house. My father couldn’t help me out because he was still paying child support. So I had to find a way to make money. I was staying at my uncle’s house. Me and him kept getting into it because he wanted me to pay rent, but I didn’t have money. I think he was trying to teach me to be a man, that you can’t get anything for free. The workforce program I was in only paid a couple hundred dollars every two weeks, those programs aren’t like what they are now. And I’d been spending my time with my cousins, hanging out. And saw my cousins getting some money quick, fast and in a hurry. And I wanted to get that money. I was spending time with my cousin KD in the streets. Blood couldn’t make us no closer. When I needed it, he’s given me a place at his mama’s house. So we started doing this stuff we not supposed to. Making money. I’ve been blessed to never be caught. During that time, I’d be talking to KD about our business. Sometimes we had money but no place to get what we needed, and I started learning about how weed was getting legalized. KD and I would talk, started planning an idea for a place where people could come and smoke. I was thinking, I know people in California. KD tells me, “We’d go crazy. We
both know the clientele.” We had a vision to open our own Black-owned dispensary, to turn around the statistics on Black people, to turn what we was doing into a positive, not a negative. That’s when I got recruited to be in another workforce program. But this one paid better, seemed like a real chance. Through the program, we went to Portland to meet with Nike. Before we went, KD told me, “You know they got dispensaries there. Here’s your chance to get on that idea you talkin’ about.” When we got to Portland, I had Nike on the mind, but I had this dispensary on my mind, too. Something for my community. Giving my friends jobs. Sure, they want to smoke. They need jobs. When it comes to weed, they’d quick jump their asses up to smoke it, now let’s apply that same pressure and sell it. Legally. Eventually, I ended up in this workforce program Amplify and, through connections from ConTextos, got a real opportunity to get my dream job. I’ve been so blessed to have this amazing opportunity in front of me. To have one of my dreams in the palm of my grasp every day is a different feeling. But I can say it’s bittersweet, I wish that some of my friends and people in my community had this same opportunity like I did. But they can’t because of the mistakes they made in the past, drug charges, gun offenses. KD is locked up downstate. My mom is in Vegas, and I’m living with my dad and my brothers. Going to work every day. I’m thankful for everything, the ups and downs from me being kicked out constantly. It taught me to respect even when someone disrespects you. To be responsible. Taught me that you always leave a person with their dignity. Like I said, I had to grow up early, and I’m still growing more every day.
TAKO
I
am from poverty. From Old Fashion and Giant’s Beauty Supply. I am from a very infected area No one wants to go to: Murder, drugs, prostitution. I am from Trauma. The souls are so lost we need maps. I’m from aggression and attitude, From Michelle and Ragheene. I’m from round noses and thin lips, From “a future genius” and “you won’t be shit.” I’m from false hope, awaiting my savior’s return. I’m from “Murder Capital,” so they say. Shield, sword. From the cotton field in Jackson, Mississippi, The Moonshiners scrambling To provide for the family. Memorial Park, South Shore Country Club. Separation took effect so I hold them dear to me.
The clock will stop, progression won’t.
Ambiguous decisions cause you clear consequences. Never had food, but I’m fed. Theendingisthebeginningahead. — Demolis "Tako" Smith
Added Trauma D e m o l i s " Ta k o " S m it h
“W
hat!!!” “Come on Tako, they talm ‘bout D Thang got shot!” That’s all I heard sitting in my living room. This day started off as a normal day; all we did was smoke upstairs and figure out who daughters were gonna be with us today. Me, my cousin Kaupo, my homie Sosa, J3, Dree, and JB were getting high before we left to paint the city streets. My aunt was running around cursing and shouting at us about being misfits and not doing anything productive with our lives. “Y’all asses gone need some jobs around here. I ain’t gone be taking care of no grownass men, just tryna lay up with these dirty-ass girls, and y’all can’t even wash y’all ass properly.” She was irritating as hell, but I couldn’t help but love her for all she did for me. 21 years old being a “street nigga,” so I thought; neither of my parents wanted nothing to do with me at the time, but still she wanted and insisted on her taking me in. The house was in full swing as we all got our days started. A series of events leading up to this day spelled tragedy. 4 months before this, my homie Dooda was killed and Kaupo got shot; after that my homie Jarod got killed at a dice game. We were already going through a lot but what was in store for us was the worst. D Thang was 16 at the time, the youngest and the smallest in our circle so he always felt he had to “be like us.” Without him having any father figure or strong influence in his life be had, it was his big brother Kaupo and me. At the time, we were trying to learn how to be men ourselves. As you can see, generational trauma and the repeated cycle of failure put him in a situation that was created for demise. As I walked towards the back door, taking a deep pull from my Newport 100, D Thang came past and said, “Aye Cuz, I’m finna be back, I’m ‘bout to go bust a pimp move.” He was referring to an inside joke we had about calling ourselves pimps. “Aye boa, don’t be loafin’ out there, you know what’s goin’ on out there,” I shouted before he disappeared out of my sight. “What y’all on man?” said Kaupo while we chilled with Lil Uzi Vert’s “7am” playing. “Ain’t shit to do,” I replied. We were stuck in the house, no women, just us… DRY!!! “Hold up, somebody callin’ me… What!!! Aye Tako, come on, they talm ‘bout D Thang got shot,” Kaupo yelled as we all got up and ran out the door.
The day was sunny at first with a chance of murder, and when we ran out the house, the sun had hidden behind the clouds. As we ran up the street, the people who were familiar with us kept screaming, “Y’all lil brother down there shot.” The closer we got, the faster my heart raced, and once we made it down the hill on 110th and Edbrooke, I seen him laying in the middle of the street not responding. “D Thang!!!” I screamed multiple times but to no avail. He didn’t respond. Kaupo lost his mind at the scene and was taken into custody. My auntie kept trying to keep us calm but we weren’t manageable by far. I couldn’t believe reality came and hit me this quick. We did a lot of things in the streets but majority of the time D Thang wasn’t involved, so I couldn't help but feel responsible for his death. This city: No Love for real. Looking back today it still feels a little bad, but the guilt has left completely. I didn’t have the urge to live anymore after he died. I wanted to make everyone feel my pain and hurt, the world was ending for me. I then met Instructor Ra and his main concern was my well-being. He removed me from my environment and refined me into a productive member of society. Through ancient Kemetic Yoga and Transcendental Meditation, I am able to deal with the pain on a much larger scale. From thinking I would be dead behind my cousin and running through life lost, I have turned my life around and joined and am staying committed to my path of self-mastery.
KALIL WARNER
I
am from broken cycles, Unknown history, hate, jealousy. I am from questions and cliffhangers, From enigma and paradox. I am from the consistent inconsistency Of structure and promise. I am from ashes, to dust. I am from broken cycles, Unknown history, hate, jealousy. I am from the land of the un-free, Where your memories are sold And dreams are fake. I’m from questions and cliffhangers, From enigma and paradox. I’m from the inconsistent. From when all else fails, I have the love of my mother. NICOLE!
To love them, you’ll kill yourself. — Kalil Warner
Revolving Door Kalil Warner
T
hree years ago I got in some trouble that would make me and my life more challenging. As if this dark skin that I wear and zip code I come from didn’t make it hard enough.
Now all these people in one room—never thought it could happen. The people and those empowered to protect the people in one room. Street dudes and police in one room eating together, I never thought I’d see it. We were at an event for community development, having dinner with lawyers, police officers, and other community activists. Me and other Authors used our stories, our memoirs to challenge and complicate the narrative on how we are seen and how the police view us. We were in a midsize local bar. During the event, I was the 3rd Author to speak; I’m always a little nervous before public speaking, even after getting a lot of experience. I read some lines from my book, Finding Them Again. After me, there were other Authors that spoke. I had some down time and started to eat dinner. After I ate, I started to walk around looking for the people I knew, because I didn’t want to have a 1-on-1 encounter with any police officers and I couldn’t tell who was who at the time. Debra (Executive Director of ConTextos) came up to me because she saw that I wasn’t being social, so she guided me to a table. It was me and a fellow Author. I can’t even remember the names of the other people who were sitting with me, but it was 2 blondes and one brunette. The brunette whose name I do remember was Katie. All 5 of us were talking for a while. It was a good time. We were laughing about life, where we were all from and things like that. Katie, the brunette one, was expressing herself to me and telling me how people sometimes bash and hate her because of her job. She’s a lawyer.
As I told her about me, she asked me when did I start to know that I can do something more with my life? As I told her and answered her question, her response would shut my body completely down that night. I told her that I knew it was more to life when Arne Duncan showed up on my behalf at a court hearing. I felt like this because it made me feel like having him there, I wasn’t going to just get stepped on. Arne helped me see that there were other things to life. After I told her that, she sat there in shock, she seemed so surprised. She then went on to tell me that she was the prosecutor who prosecuted my case. Imagine that—out of all the people in the room, I would end up sitting at the table with the prosecutor who prosecuted me. I looked at the other Author at the table with me and we both shook our heads and started laughing. Right before it became too awkward, we were called back up front to talk. Perfect timing if you ask me. When we finished speaking, I saw Katie one more time before the event ended. We shook hands but she seemed different than when we first spoke, without the power of our brief history between us. She looked at me as if she was trying to read me like a prosecutor; she gave me a firm shake and walked away. And as if on cue we both looked back over our shoulders at one another. I don’t know if I was reading too much into it or if she was uncomfortable due to the situation and wanted to show she was still in control. Either way, I do know that for that brief moment, before we knew each other’s background, we were just two people in a room having dinner, and if nothing else, that night proved that circumstances aside, we are all just people.
Old hate sticks to my stone. — Kalil Warne
Letter to Kalil Kalil Warner
D
ear Kalil,
I love you, Kalil. I know you’re going to be great and do great things in life, Senior and Junior! KJ, I know I’m not going to be a perfect Dad, but I’m going to be a present Father. I’m sorry in advance for all my shortcomings I’m going to have. I’m sorry because I know I can always be better. For me and for you, KJ, I’m going to be better, I am better. I haven’t met you yet. You’re not born yet. Your Mom’s 8 months pregnant, but I already love you to death literally. When your Mom first told me she was pregnant with you, I thought I was having an epiphany. Even after she told me, I felt like I was living a dream. It was so many things going through my head, thinking about my life. How it was going to change so much, I was going to have to change, how I have to be responsible for a whole human being. When I first told my mom (your Grandma), she thought it was a joke because I had been playing with her, crying wolf, telling her that your Mom was pregnant for a while. Same thing with some of my friends. A couple of people didn't believe me because I been saying your Mom was pregnant for a while. Don’t never call out wolf if it’s not a wolf, son. About a month or two passed, and I found out
she was serious and this wasn’t a game. Around the fourth month, I found out that you were going to be a boy. I had a feeling you were going to be. I had to name you after me, my first son. At first, I really didn't want you to be named after me. I felt like I wasn't giving you any room to be your own man. But I want you to have my name because we’re the same, you’re my legacy. You will always be my biggest accomplishment no matter what I do in life. The day that we found out you were a boy, we went to the doctor's office for an ultrasound. It was me, your Mom, your Grandma, your Great-Grandma, and your Uncle. We were all at the doctor's office. They brought her in a room by herself as they set things up. (I always get mad when I can't be in the room around her or you, because I hate the unknown. When you’re born, the hardest part for me is going to be when they take you out my arms to do the medical procedures.) After they had your Mom change into the hospital gown, they called the rest of us in gang. We was all in the room. They had you on the screen; you was moving everywhere at first, happy to show off for your Dad, I felt like. Then I asked the nurse, “That’s a boy, ain't it?” She started to go into detail with the picture more before she said, “I been doing this job for a while now and it looks like a boy.” I knew it before I asked her. You looked just like me on that screen; we got the same head shape. Before we found out you were a boy, we were thinking of all type of female names. I can't even remember them, but everybody wanted you to be a girl. I'm glad you turned out a boy (but the love was going to be the same no matter if you were a boy or girl). Learning
that you were going to be a boy made me 10X more excited. It’s still the most scariest feeling, having a baby due soon; you don't know what the outcome will be. Your Mom has went and is going to go through so much pain for the birth of you. I think of her and you every day. Giving up her body for yours—I will always feel as if I owe her the world for that. I love your Mother so much. You have a strong dedicated Mom; she will always be there for you. Nobody's going to love you like she does. You’re going to be born in July, on the 21st. Everybody’s waiting on you, the whole family. Family is people who’s always there for you, no matter what. It’s deeper than your bloodline sometimes. I wonder where I might be when your Mom goes into labor? What time it’s gone be? I can bet it’s gone be at night time, or at work? The crib? Outside? Wherever I’m at, I’m getting to you quick, fast, and in a hurry. Can’t wait to see you. I know you’re going to look just like me! I wonder if you will ever get taller than me. Right now I'm 22 and I’m about 5’10, so basically I’m almost 6’2. I wonder, will you ever beat me in height? I imagine you with smooth paper-brown skin with thick curly hair. I Imagine you with big brown googly eyes and long eyelashes. Those eyes that tell a story to whoever looks in them. I want to hold you for the first time. I know you gone be a chunky baby just like I was. I don't know how I’m going to react when you first get in my arms. I wonder how your cry will be when you’re first born, if you do cry. To hear your voice for the first time, I wonder if you would sound like me. I hope not! When you’re learning how to walk, I’m going to be there
when you fall. Where will you be when you take your first steps? What will your first words be? I can’t wait to be your Father, Kalil. At first I was so nervous, scared because I knew I was going to fail. I just wanted to put your birth day on pause so I can have more time to possibly grow into the person I wanted to be, for me and for you. I’ve learned with every decision you make, you have to live with it. Time waits for nobody, no matter what situation. I’ma make it happen, Kalil. It's going to be times when you might be lost or confused, Kalil. Read this. Make it happen. It's going to be times when you are scared or nervous. Read this. I’m here for you, Kalil. Senior and Junior, you’re going to be great, Kalil.
Life sucks. Get used to it.
No big I’s, no little U’s. Hard body don't fear no body. — Randall "Duke" Washington
RANDALL “DUKE” WASHINGTON
I
ain’t asked to be here, But now I am here. Chicago, Where you reap what you sow. The land of the dope, Vice Lords, GD’s, BD’s, Moe’s. You looking for me? I’m in the Back of the Yards, Where the kids can’t play in the park, Get killed broad day and after dark. This cold world you got to think smart. You walk around, it’s low energy. They terrified, divided. YEAH!! I am from Back of the Yards, An Urban Prisoner of War. Part of a perfect science That led me and my family To be poor. I’m now woke and ready to explode, Change the world, Bring new beginnings, Rewriting the ending.
Very special individual. but no perfect.
Family ain’t family no more. (Damn.) Credit the real, discredit the fake. — Randall "Duke" Washington
The Day We Met
O
Randall “Duke” Washington
n my birthday, Christmas Day in 2003, I had just turned seven. I was sitting in the front room opening my gifts with my big sister and my two younger sisters. The music was loud. We heard a knock at the door. My mom walked to the door and said, “Who is it?” The person responds, “Randall!” My mom opened the door, and a man and his fiancée walked inside the house with gifts and a card in his hand, smiling. He looked at me, smiled with tears in his eyes, and asked me, “You don’t know who I am, do you?” I said, “No.” He said, “I’m your father.” I looked at him funny and crazy and said, “You’re not my father.” I thought my father was the guy my mother was married to. But my stepfather laughed and said, “That’s your father, boy, go give him a hug.” I went to hug him and he explained to me that we have a lot of catching up to do. “Here’s your gifts. I’m coming back to get you this weekend to meet some of your family members on my side of the family.” Fast forward to Friday: my mom packed my bags and let me know I’m going with my father this weekend. I didn’t want to go, but I had no choice but to go because I wasn’t old enough to make my own decisions.
“Beep! Beep!” There was a white Toyota outside and there was my father sitting outside of the car, waiting for me to come downstairs. Hitting the road, we had a long conversation about the missed times he wished he could have had with me. But at a young age, I didn’t understand what he really meant. Later on that day, we arrived in Milwaukee and I met my kinfolks and they welcomed me with smiles on their faces, happy to see me. I met some of my cousins. They were saying I was a spitting image of my father and how happy they were to get to meet me. Overall I had a good time getting out of my environment—the first time out of Chicago meeting some family members. I had no idea how much caring my family had towards me on my father’s side and that was their first time even meeting me. It felt like love at first sight. That Sunday coming back home to my mother’s house, I explained to her that I had a good time overall. After that, I didn’t hear from my father again because he had gone back to jail. Three years later, when I was at the age of 10, my father was released from jail and I instantly got in contact with him to continue working on our bond. I stayed with him that summer. We took pictures, went out to eat, went to church, and even went to see my grandfather who was sick in the hospital from cancer. That was my first time meeting him. My father was very hurt because he wished I could have met my grandfather early before he became sick. Later on that year my grandfather passed away. My father was crying and I didn’t know how to feel because I didn’t know him. But I felt a pain for my father.
Four years later, at the age of 14, I just graduated Libby Elementary grammar school, and I received a call from my father saying he had a new house and a new girlfriend. “I want you to meet her and she also has a son I want you to meet.” I go over there, hug him tight, and he introduced me to Ms. Williams. She said I was handsome. She told me her son was in the room. “Go knock on the door and meet him.” I proceeded to go towards the room, knock on the door. He said, "Come in." I walked in the room and said, “Oh Montell, what’s up bro!” He said, “Randall, what’s up bro!” My father and his girlfriend were shocked that we knew each other. They asked how do we know each other? We told him we graduated grammar school together. From that point on, that made me, Montell, and my father’s relationship stronger as a friend and a father. Now, I got my father back and a brother. It’s crazy how someone I barely knew became the bridge between me and my father; linking up with Montell every weekend caused me to see my father more often than I normally did. It helped us because it probably would’ve been an odd moment because of our lack of time together. Life sends us all signals every day, just to get bad situations back to normal; some people just don’t accept them cause of pride. I’m just thankful that I was able to pay attention to the signals and forgive my father for his absence.