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.
In Collaboration With:
Normal - Lie - Zations Caprice M.G.
Young me, (Lil Prece), looked at life like it was a white picket fence movie. Growing up in a household with my mother, father whenever he wasn't in jail, and 3 brothers and 2 sisters, life seemed so great and so normal.
Until it didn’t. Slowly I began to realize what was going on inside and outside my home, reality had revealed itself to me.
Outside my home drugs was being sold on the corner by the guys that I thought were just people I saw every day enjoying each other's company. The women I saw that looked the same as my great aunts that were doing drugs and starting to look less like great aunts of mine. The guys that I saw outside my building that would say “what's up lil homie” everyday and even taught me how to tie my shoes. I’m now starting to see guns in their hands. Guns that I’d seen in army movies, and them shaking hands like they were in a secret society, not like how my grandfather showed me.
Meanwhile inside my home my father was absent a lot due to being in and out of jail. My mom was constantly at work trying to take care of the household. Being raised by my older brothers and sisters and seeing my mother and father fight like street fighters whenever they were in each other's presence caused me so much emotional pain and mental trauma.
My father chose to leave his family and never return, speak, raise, or love us, and my mother turned to drugs due to stress, grief, depression, and being overwhelmed by life and so much more.
All of this changed me from an innocent child to a hardened soul. I was very defensive, strong willed, fierce, and loud. I became a person that loves hard and hates harder. My dad leaving and my mom not being able to care for 6 kids on her own while she fought her own demons forced me and my brothers and sisters to have to be separated and that's how I ended up being In the middle of a war zone,
The safest place to be was Granny crib. My comfort zone. Plus where the f*** I had to go? Who else wants Monique's baddest son, as they say, to live with them?
Nobody. Nobody but Granny. Damn I love this lady. I know when it's time to get up and start my day. It’s right when I smell Granny cooking breakfast even though that breakfast wasn't for me. I just know by the time I'm smelling that greatness it's 8:30-9:00 in the morning and time I get my ass up, brush my teeth, wash my body, iron my clothes, wipe off my shoes and get my day started.
I grab my weed, and everything else I need and put it in my book bag. I tell Granny good morning, lie to her about what I got in my book bag, and bop out the crib at about 11 o’clock.
Cars riding by, sun beaming, neighbors on their porch waving, and me waving back good morning to Ms. Linda, the lady that lives next door, and good morning to Mr. Williams the BBQ Grill Master, an old man that sells the food out his garage across the street.
I should go get a fry with the sauce from him, but I ain't made no money today so it's time to walk to the block and start hustling, probably talk s*** and kick it with foe nem. I check my surroundings making sure I'm safe till I can get to the block and start hustling. I get to the block and see my homies playing. They play too damn much and are lacking. As I’m walking up the block I see foe nem out here deep today.
Everybody is out there hustling, smiling from ear to ear, enjoying the life that they survived. I shake up with the guys, unzip my book bag and sit in bro car. I count out 10 bags to put in my pocket to serve, before I hop out of the car and begin to get to it.
This is life for me day in and day out. But it began much earlier. Somewhere around 2009/2010 if I'm not mistaken . . .
I was 15 and my brother was 13 and we was at a party full of gang nem. We was out of the neighborhood, and not knowing a soul, only the music that played through the speakers. ”I gotta be fly,
you know I’m fly.”
Putting my back on the wall just to be safe, it’s time to get high, but I ain’t got no blunts. Now, I gotta ask one of these n*ggas for a swisher, goofy shit. Okay, found a n*gga with one. So, somehow we just locked in and started kicking it all together. Me, lil bro, and this other n*gga, da hoes feeling us, we vibing to the music. I know I’m finna take me something to the crib until another group of n*ggas walked in. Who is they?
I don’t know what they about? A whole lotta gang shit it looked like. Everything seemed fine until they started mugging and clutching. Four of them walked up on us fake kickin it, talking shit, throwing shots. I see they not directing them to me, or my lil bro, but at this point in they eyes we look like we with this n*gga.
We all tried to leave the BS. So me, my lil brother, and dude walked to the backyard to get some air, and flame up in peace. As soon as the energy is corrected, it’s upset once again by two of the four thugs that was just addressing us in the party. They really have that look in they eyes that somebody going to sleep, and I know I can’t and I’m my lil brother's protector, so he definitely ain’t going. I know they really here for dude, but I also know I can’t make any quick movements because I don’t know what the reactions might be from them.
So unconsciously I start smiling, and talking about what. I don’t fucking know. My heart beating out my fucking chest. I’m not trying to get my stupid ass killed. At this point I have to make some type of decision either keep playing slow and probably get clapped or let these niggas know they tweaking.
n ot o n e k. W ,” c a ude ll b “Fa with d not
e dw n a t, shi
W hic he ve rc ha hoic ve ew to do e ch it . ose ,w e
fast.
So playing it safe I tell them what it was and fall back. I don't really know what it was but they fell back by the Grace of God. Just surviving the unknown forced me to never get put in that position again. So now everything is strictly in the hood and for the hood, and I’m gone always keep something on me because if a nigga think he gon take me out then he got another thing coming. I'm a Chicago monster. After years of so much trauma, losing close friends and family, and being wrapped up in the streets, I'm now 23yrs old and focused on what I want in life. I’m Chicago made. Hard working, and working hard with no heart for no one who isn't blood to me in some form or fashion.
After hustling all day I finally got a chance to hug my brother. He had just come home from doing 2 ½ years in jail on drug charges. I gave him some money and let him part ways so he won't get in trouble by his P.O. for not being where he was supposed to be.
Driving down 127th and Ashland my homie calls my phone. Bro on da phone talking bout some shit I really don't give a fuck about cause I’m already pisssed off. Folks tap my shoulder talkin ‘bout bro ain't that dude nem. I look over to my right and sure as shit stinks that dude nem. Forgetting I ain't got no gun on me, I start acting crazy finna talk shit but dem niggas weren’t tryna talk. Their windows come down like 5 inches. They locked and loaded.
Doom, doom, doom, doom, shots fired and then more shots and more shots.
The first shot knocked out the window hitting me right in the face making me turn my back against them in this fishbowl and ball tf up but they still shooting, so I try to jump in the back seat to dodge a few bullets, cause folks bitch ass froze the fuck up. He just sitting here foot on the brakes letting these bitch asss niggas fye us the fuck up. I jumped from the front to the back with all the attention on me. They shoot up the back hitting me four more times den folks finally pull off. Bitch ass nigga and bitch ass niggas. Now I'm just siiting in the back seat. Not my life, but my daughter's life flashes before my eyes and I say to myself, "damn am I finna die before I'm 25?"
Then I start to think what the fuck I do to deserve this. It's the beginning of the year 2018. I had a great 2107, no violence and a lotta paper chasing, stacking, and counting.
What did I do? Damn, as seconds pass I think about my past, about jumping off the porch, and first getting into the streets 10 years ago. All the shit I did. I guess people don't forget.
Now here I am here in this jaiI and my daughters asking through the other end of this pay phone. “Daddy where are you at?” WTF! My mind goes blank. What do I tell my daughters? I told myself I would never lie to my kids. My mind is still blank on what to say. She asks, "Are you in jail, daddy?"
Damn, WTF! Who told my baby I was in jail? Why they tell her? I ask her "who told you I was in jail?" "Mommy," she tells me. Granny? Wow, what was her purpose? Is she tryna hurt me and my daughter's relationship? I asked my daughter "do you know what jail is?" So innocently she tells me no and that hurt my heart and soul so much cause I got to fill her in on the situation and it also makes me feel good at the same time that I get to fill her in totally on the situation.
How do I start? What do I say? I still want to uphold a great image with my kids. I love them more than anybody, more than they will ever understand. My two beautiful princesses Cattleya and Camilla. The motivation of my success. The willpower to my will. Thinking on how TF do I prevent my kids from ever asking me this one question again. My babies getting older, 8 and 6. They understand and comprehend fully that daddy’s not around. My lifestyle and state of mind, mindset, my environment, everything is going to change. I can’t do my babies like this no more. They deserve so much more than my absence. I love them too much to deprive them of anything. Too much pain, too much stress. I’m tired, so tired, but I can’t sleep. I can’t stop. I can’t do anything but take this shit and keep working and keep on moving no matter how much I may suffer. No matter how crazy the struggle may be. My kids got me feeling this way because in reality I really want to give up sometimes, not being able to or have the strength to deal with life on life’s terms. But my daughters bring me to life, give me that strength I need to keep on moving.
I just saw them in action as older kids cause I really haven’t seen them the entire 2 years. I’ve been away and over those two years that have gotten so much bigger and beautiful. I have seen them on videos their grandmother sent my older brother. I was so hurt in a good and bad way. Good because they was just happy and blossoming and aware and smart, and in a bad way 'cause I couldn’t be there to experience the growth of their childhood with them.
They were just doing things I never saw them do like TikTok dance challenges, drawing beautiful pictures, reading children books together and also playing at the playground, posing for pictures in ways I didn’t approve of. Just so much stuff that gave me so much more hope for the future and the strength to keep moving towards it and the power to make things happen. Not just make things happen, but to make them happen the right way, where I won’t have to worry about if I’m breaking the law or looking over my shoulder because I did something not lined up with my mindset and life.
I just can’t leave my children no more. I don't want to miss out on their childhood. I don’t want to be absent when they need me the most. I remember being neglected, and it's not a good feeling not having the people you need most around when you need them most. I remember being neglected by an absent in prison father and an absent workaholic mother. They never was around when me and my siblings needed them most and it doesn’t feel good not to be comforted by your parents when you need them to comfort you, and I know my children really need me. Their lives don't deserve to be ruined because of my absence or my not being able to guide them properly because I wasn’t around.
My 8 year old Cattleya is so big, so beautiful, so aware, so active. Just every bit of my first just makes me smile and brings so much joy and light in my life. I always think of her, my lil hip hop dancer, my little painter, my lil Fortnite game head, my lil girly princess baby forever.
Then I see her sister, my twin in all my actions, a light skin girl version of her father. The spoiled baby of my family of four reminds me of myself so much that it gets scary at times but it's also very fascinating because my lil baby helps me understand life and appreciate it and see the beauty of it through the ugliest times.
Every day when I feel like giving up I think long and hard on things that I need to do while I have the time to do it and I think about the people that I need to do it for, the strength floods my soul and I’m able yet again to get through another day. Going hard to make sure my responsibilities are accomplished. I take the good with the bad and keep on pushing through it all.
I know I didn’t deserve the hand life dealt me so why deal that same hand to my two beautiful princesses?
I’ve been through enough pain, trauma, and heartache. I’ve shed enough tears for enough years for us all. “No More” should be part of the life long logo even though at times and days things get very hard cause I’m still climbing out of that hole that I was born in.
The hole of poverty and gang affiliation. Even though I don’t claim affiliation, I’m seen as affiliated because of where I grew up. The hole of growing up in a broken home, absent parents, parental mental issues from being neglected and abused. The hole of trauma from seeing my parents fight when they was around. Traumatized from being shot 7 times and experiencing near death moments. Going to jail due to having to literally get the basic shit.
This is how I grew up, with no real guidance and a whole lot of pain. But now I realize what I want. What's important, what's real, what’s valuable.
I wake up with a different mindset. Today I have a more motivated and understanding mindset. Understanding of my mom and her upbringing, the things she experienced and the people she lost that made her choose to do the things she has done. She has her own trauma. Understanding of my father‘s upbringing and his situations, understanding his actions and ways and choices. He has his own trauma as well. Forgiving them and not holding my failures against them and striving for better for myself, my babies and my woman with God in mind at all times. Trying my hardest not to give in to the temptations of the fast money lifestyle, jewelry, fast cars, the spotlight. All the things that I was misguided into thinking were a priority.
Every day I strive and struggle with everything because this shit ain’t easy for me, 28 years of living this way. Everything I know is this way but I’m pushing forward through it. I take steps backwards. I really just can’t have my babies looking at me no type of way because of my absence and I don’t want them to grow up to be like so many young women who I’ve seen fall victim to these streets and this lifestyle. They deserve so much more and better and that’s where my fight is. So despite all of everything the fight is here, the fight is now, and I’m stepping in the ring no matter the opponents.
I know the three parts you need to have success, patience, sacrifice, and consistency and I’m here to put those into action. I just ask for forgiveness at times when I slip up. I’m just a man that has been damaged trying to get everything back on track. I deserve a second chance of being a better me, a better dad, a better husband, friend, son and brother ‘cause I've been an asshole at times to people that didn’t deserve it because of my own scars.
But I’m healing and I wish to heal. I’m trying my hardest. My family needs me and if I can continue to be honest I need them also.
I understand and I forgave once I took a moment and analyzed. I’m glad you took a moment with me and let me help you understand who I really am. Past the pain, the scars, the name, the money, the jewelry, the spot life and lifestyle. I’m just Caprice Gullens.
Caprice M.G. I Am From I am from Morgan Park, Church St. From Citgo on Ashland and back to Granny crib. I am from Granny’s Sunday dinners. I am from mud, thick and capable. I’m from Monique and Patrica Ann Stevenson. From cleaning up the house, And hard working. I’m from "don’t tear up my damn house," And from "come and eat." I'm from knowledge of a higher power. I’m from Chicago. From beef short ribs, baked macaroni, broccoli, family Sunday dinners. From Catt and Mill. I am from a whole lotta love.
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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