Broken Promises From The Streets by Andy H. Wallace

Andy H. Wallace

Broken Promises From The Streets

Until the lion learns to write their own story, tales of the hunt will always glorify the hunter - African Proverb The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people at-risk of, victims of, or perpetrators of violence in El Salvador. In 2017 this innovative program expanded into Chicago to create tangible, high quality opportunities that nourish the minds,,expand the voices and share the personal truths of individuals who have long been underserved and underestimated. Through the process of drafting, revising and publishing memoirs, participants develop self-reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie and positive selfprojection to author new life narratives.

Since January 2017 ConTextos has partnered with Cook County Sheriff's Office to implement Authors Circle in Cook County Department of Corrections as part of a vision for reform that recognizes the value of mental health, rehabilitation and reflection. These powerful memoirs complicate the narratives of violence and peace building, and help author a hopeful future for human beings behind walls, their families and our collective communities.

While each author’s text is solely the work of the Author, the image used to create this book’s illustrations have been sourced by various print publications. Authors curate these images and then, using only their hands, manipulate the images through tearing, folding, layering and careful positioning. By applying these collage techniques, Authors transform their written memoirs into illustrated books.

This project is being supported, in whole or in part, by federal award number ALN 21.027 awarded to Cook County by the U.S. Department of the Treasury.

Broken Promises From The Streets Andy H. Wallace

Hey y'all, my name is Andy. Through this book I want to take you through where I came from and hopefully my story helps or even touches one person and if that is done then my mission is complete. People come from different places in this world and even different places in life. But my job is to show you if you put your all in it you can change, anyone can. Now sit back, open your mind and your heart and let this book take you away and see the struggles and the ups and downs of a boy turning into a man.

See my childhood was rocky. I was taken away from my mother and father at the age of two because of my mother's drug abuse.

Instead of DCFS taking me, they let me go with my aunt and my sister. See I got taken away because my mom's drug abuse got so bad that she tried to put me in the oven.

OK, I was all into this writing a book thing in the beginning. Excited, motivated, important. It felt good to do sum and earn a certificate. I was all for it. But now it seems like too much to do. Do I want y’all up in my business? Do I want to open up old wounds? Is it worth it? Do people want to hear how my mom used to abuse drugs?

I’m still battling with myself and trying to find out who I am. I’m scared to open old wounds. I am scared to find out who I am. I’m scared to feel that hurt again. Or imagine why my mom didn't want me and would try to hurt me. They say, “you not supposed to question GOD!!!”

But I find myself doing that a lot. See I was born on the westside of Chicago, K-Town to be exact. There was no love frfr. I didn’t feel wanted until I fell into the “street life,” where they accepted me with open arms and I embraced it.

When it came to hustling I felt that’s what I was born to do. I could stand on the corner for hours, literally from 7am to 11pm. Me and lil B we was the trappers of the hood. See B was 5 years older than me. He was the trap star. He was already running shit. He knew how to put the money up!

See my brother and sister wasn’t with me, so I lacked that big brother, big sister love. But B took that up, that was my big brother to me and the streets.

It was on Wilcox and Kilbourn where I first started my hustling. See I was too young to start off selling. I started out watching look out. See that was the first time where I felt like I was wanted and served a purpose. See, at home there wasn't no more kids or fun. Even though I was the youngest out there, I felt accepted.

I came to be known because my Aunt would walk around the neighborhood looking for me with a picture, asking have they seen me cause I used to run away from home. So everybody would be like your grandmomma looking for you with a picture. Some would take me back, some would hide me but I always found my way back to the streets.

Once I got a taste, I felt like the streets was the only one that accepted me. I used to hang out in the streets for days. B used to let me spend the night at his house. In his house it was his mother, 4 other siblings and his girl in a 2 bedroom apartment. They always made room for me whenever I came and that made me feel accepted.

I was around love and I had the freedom to do what I wanted to do. On the other hand at Mama Pearl’s house things was strict. I couldn’t be the kid I wanted. I wanted to be free, learn things on my own. Be a boy, fall, get in fights, talk to girls. I felt I couldn’t do that at Mama Pearl’s house

o re le m t t i l ta . o ge l places t d r te t ia s s t a r e s id e n g n i , th t of b e 14 a nd o u o t ot e s , in nIg m i e t h W ew eaf m o H

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I made my choice. The streets was the only thing that accepted me. So that was home for me, that was where I belonged. I knew no other acceptance. The streets was my family and where I felt loved and wanted.

acks serving p s a w I , re o mo . look out n t s ju a t the time a ’t it h it I w a sn w do w w h a t to o n k ’t n id d

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Here I am 36, still trying to figure it out, but guess what, I'm learning. Love is loving yourself first. To give love you have to love yourself first, and honestly I don't love me.

Sounds weird don't it, but I can't if I don't even take care of myself. I know y'all saying how you don't take care of yourself and you made it this far? I took drugs which isn't good for you. I put myself in situations that I know weren't right. I know right from wrong but still decide to do wrong. The thing is though I acknowledge those things so is that the beginning of love?

Pat, I have a few questions. With me being the baby, why wasn't I loved? Why would you want me to die? Why would you give me up? Your sister took me in and tried to show me love but you mentally f***** me up. You made me not trust no one, not even myself! Sometimes I blame me. Maybe I was a crybaby, maybe I was ugly. Maybe this, maybe that, maybe I'm not supposed to be here. But how is that, I'm 36 now. But I'm still trying to learn who I am. Am I a Hustler or a killer, what am I covering up? Man, I hate you! Yes, hate you, and I thought you should know that.

Signed, Andy

Andy H. Wallace I Am From I’m from Chicago, Westside K-town to be exact!

I’m from Home of the Chicago Bulls where the most

290 Heroin Highway where all the hustlers be at.

Championships are at

I’m from Wilcox & Kilbourn where Regess use to be at.

I’m from where god is known but barely shown.

I’m from the epidemic where crack kids were born and in

I’m from where my mother didn’t care but my Auntie was

gangs your sworn.

there.

I’m from it’s 6 or 7 of yall living in a 2 bedroom apartment.

I’m from the streets where broken promises are at.

I’m from Cook County Hospital where all the bodies go to

I’m from where I’m lost but in position now to be found.

I’m from where the police put packs and guns on you.

I’m from where my heart frowns but my face shows a smile.

I’m from where you can’t show no fear not even share a

I’m from where you got to watch your friends cause they’ll

tear.

be the ones to kill you in the end.

I’m from where blocks doing 30 & 40 box Chevys,

I’m from where little boys are Men.

Cutlasses & Monte Carlos

I’m from where Death or Jail will be your end!!!

I’m from where pimps got hoes and wear bright ass

Or will it???

clothes.

I’m from where I created myself.

I’m from the jungle where only the strong survive.

I’m from Andy H. Wallace A.K.A. ACE

I’m from the city better known as Chi Rack I’m from the Audy Home and Cook County Jail Where most of our blacks are at.

Until the lion learns to write their own story, tales of the hunt will always glorify the hunter - African Proverb Copyright

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