Forged By Experience
Donzell Grant IV
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.
Forged By Experience Donzell Grant IV
Sitting there I was dumbfounded. My 10-year-old mind felt as if I tried everything to console my 3 sisters. Two of them are older than me. I also have an older brother, but he was in his room sleeping, which is something I couldn't understand. I tried hugging them, wiping away their tears, and patting their backs. I even tried cracking jokes, yet nothing worked. Nothing silenced the pain we could hear coming from the next room. We could hear our mother and her husband yelling at each other at the top of their lungs. See, her husband or ex was a piece of work; not only was he present like 3 days a week he also was neither of our fathers. All of us have different fathers except me and my little sister, and none of our biological fathers was in the picture. The yelling was pain to our young hearts and ears because we knew the norm that followed it.
I realized, at that moment, my compassion and empathy for others was built from my mom and sisters, and my resentment to men was built from my brother and my momma’s ex-husband. I felt like women were loved and men was hated. Even to this day, no matter my situation, if I hear a problem from a woman, I’d try to put myself in a position to help and put them at ease. When a man presents a problem I don't position myself to help. The yelling and arguing also had a major impact on me because I hate arguing and never really argue with a loud aggressive tone with anyone for anything. My mind shuts down and prevents the action from transpiring.
“I'm not finna do this with you today Michael… Get out!” I heard my mother yell, which followed, “So you gone put me out?” “Yea… Get out!” my mother yelled. Then it started “Get off me!!” My mother screamed in pain. I could hear the tussling from the next room. As we sat there completely helpless, every bump, thump, and cry out I heard I felt it rattle my heart and I knew my sisters felt the same inner excruciating pain because of the way they were crying and looking at me, with so much devastation and hysteria on their face. I didn't know what to do or think, however, at that moment I knew I must do something, anything! My brother was nowhere to be found. I felt like it was all on me! “If he would beat the mess out of a girl I know he would kill me,” I thought.
Majority of the time, people try to avoid fear because fear paints horrific pictures in our heads. We run from it, cower from it, and even look at it with our nose turned up. Fear is a psychological block from you moving forward. Her ex-husband, at the time, was like 6’2 tall and 200 pounds. To me he looked like a giant. The guy had muscles, visible war wounds, a missing front tooth, and an “I don't give a fuck” attitude; especially when he drank. I also saw him do things that easily makes him the world's greatest super villain mentor. So at my age, with my fragile boy body, fear told me to intervene and help my mother was suicide. However a lot of people do not obtain the skill of using that fear as an enabler. At that very moment unbeknownst to me, I developed that skill because I was more scared than I’ve ever been.
Without further thinking, I just acted. I ran to the kitchen and pulled the drawer back with all my might and grabbed the biggest knife I seen. I held the knife up and examined it. I was really just staring at it kind of zoned out. I felt that was the key to end all of my pain, all of our pain. However, the fantasy I imagined was more frightening and made me drop the knife. I took off running out the kitchen. All I wanted was for everything to stop. I stopped in front of my mother's room, still able to hear all the ruckus going on inside. I looked at my sisters in the doorway of the other room, and that was all the strength and courage I needed.
I barged right in the room full force and full speed. It’s funny because I started crying before I even made contact with my target. I was able to see him on top of my mother punching her like she killed the only person he ever loved with her bare hands. My crying behind, full force and full speed, I runs into him trying to tackle and punch him how he punched her. It did nothing to him of course he just tossed me in the other direction. I got back up, still crying, wishing I kept the knife, maybe I would’ve been taken a little more serious. I ran back up on him and this time I got like a stiff arm push down. I was no longer scared, at this point, I was beyond angry. I got up faster and stronger this time. I don't know where he got the house phone from but he had it and I ain't see it until he slapped me with it. It was a big white cordless one. There I was crying on the floor, such a pitiful hero, being wrapped up by my mother. Once I finally realized he was gone I didn't feel pain. I felt like I kind of succeeded. However, I'll never forget the big white cordless house phone, with the gray buttons.
A lot of things we go through, especially as kids, build our character as adults. The things we learn at home as a kid leads to be what we aim to teach, aim not to teach, or unconsciously teach our kids at home. Based off my childhood I made a lot of vows to myself that goes with the teachings of my home and against it. I definitely would never hit a woman. But my childhood homes also taught me that nothing good comes easy, and to always fight for what you want and those you love, and most importantly to never trust your fears for it does not know your strengths! I always look to help people with their worst problems. I try to hit the problems at their core and completely take the person's pain away. It's been that way for me for as far back as I can remember.
Honestly, when he left, I don't know where he went, nor the exact day he came back. However, I do remember the next time I actually seen him. The physical wound was gone but the pain instantly resurfaced on the inside. Him and my mother just walked through the door together, smiling. They both looked happy as can be. The only thing I could do is stand there and watch them. I couldn't even speak. Not only did I feel the steam of my hatred towards him boiling within me: I also started to feel a new emotion. I felt betrayed.
All of my siblings refer to our mother as “My momma”, emphasizing the “my” to show possession, even to each other. This was where my first centimeter of trust issues came about. At that moment, my momma became a bunch of pronouns like her and she. I felt like how could SHE keep letting him back. After all, our bouncing around from Auntie's house to Granny's house to different family shelters, and even staying in cars; and him not helping but making things worse. From him threatening to kill her, pulling guns out on her, and beating her up. To him beating her in front of her kids, to now beating her kids, to us finally getting our own place, thanks to section 8, he still got chance after chance…! I began to feel weird about everyone. I felt she loved him more than her own kids. (Especially because his plate was always bigger than mine! He always got more pieces of chicken! LOL) I felt like my brother was a coward or a female dog because he was always sleep when the violence happened and never helped us. I felt like my sisters distanced themselves from me, except when it was convenient to them, and I felt like I was in a house with the Devil himself. I felt alone and angry. My emotions got the best of me, which led to... My rebellion.
I started to rebel against everything. I started stealing weed blunts out ashtrays and smoking them outside. I started stealing from stores, not only to be bad but I was just hungry and got tired of waiting around to eat. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one who began to care less because my sister, Kopaneck, who was a juvenile at the time got locked up and sent to kid jail, for jumping a girl and stealing from her, with her friends. (I believe the Detention Center was called “This’ll do”.) One night it made the news, and my momma vowed to leave Duluth, Minnesota, when her lease was up, while she cried herself to sleep.
By this time my mother's husband ended up going back to Chicago and got locked up. The little me was happy because, though I didn't know, I felt things would be different. I always had a magnificent sense of feeling about things. I used to even know what time it was throughout the day without even a look at a clock. I still sometimes experience that today. Also my mom and her husband never was the same after Minnesota! They never got back together, but most importantly he never hit her again.
We were in Minnesota for 2 years total, then we went back to Illinois. My momma didn't want to run back to Chicago, so she chose Rockford, Illinois. Making it to Rockford, I enrolled into like my 7th or 8th elementary school. I really didn't too much care for the people who was attending the school because I felt like, “I'm only in 6th grade, we’ll be moving soon, and I'll never see them again.” For everyone, I had a hidden agenda. It was like people gravitate to me, especially females. I don't know why because I was always a dirty little boy. Anyway, I began to accumulate a little crowd at school, whom none I really cared for, nor talked to today as I predicted. However, there was one guy named Olajuan, who stayed across the street from me. My intentions was always good with him. I actually talk to him sometimes now. Nevertheless, school was my place of play. As I look back, I believe that's when I first experienced my interest in psychology.
As a kid, the inconsistency had a major negative impact on my people skills and my humanity towards people. I used to think people only lived when I came around, like they would be on pause or something when I wasn't there. It, the inconsistency, played with my emotions. I couldn't allow myself to get close to people because it was no way for me to keep in touch when the inevitable happened. For some strange reason I just wanted to dishevel people in hopes that they would leave before I do. However, now as an adult, that inconsistency makes it easy for me to walk away from people and situations thats “not for me.” And psychology is what I want to get a Bachelor's Degree in, though I want to produce and direct movies!
I would always do my work in class, which impressed the teachers because not only would I do it fast, most of my answers would be correct too. Once I finished, my lack of patience provoked me to start messing with people and/or send them off. I would start things between students, throw things at people, make distracting noises, everything! Then when the bell rang, my crowd and I would get together and plot. I always had the last say so and everyone listened to me. SMH!
Why..? I don't know, I barely even listened to myself. I didn't know who I was, what I wanted to be when I grew up, nor where I'll even be in the next year. I was guided by emotions from home that I magnificently kept hidden from the world. I lived in the moment. I made a lot of mistakes living in the moment, now I have to think before I act. I always catch myself telling people, now, that I used to think I thought, until I actually start thinking.
We were the “bullies" at the school. ): We mainly picked on people who “thought” they were crazy. We would play a game called Point him out, knock him out. (Hint. Him right) Anyway, it was always on me to point, which I lowkey hated but didn't mind. Sometimes I would even point and punch. I started going outside with my friends more. However, my school “friends” and everyday outside friends didn't consist of the same people. My typical day would look like school and point him out, knock him out with my school “friends”. Then when school was over I'll ditch them and go home to eat. Then I'll head outside and meet with my other friends. We would walk around and steal bikes for those who didn't have one, mainly me. We'll steal people's dogs. They would normally have money from their people so we would buy weed with that. Then we'll take the dogs to the abandoned houses and fight them while we smoke and watch. Then when it got dark we’ll ride around, before curfew, just to throw bricks through people's big beautiful house windows.
u se my h o so I m o r , df y d r u gs t iv a t e w o a ow m s m n I s k . I a t i w d id ke d r di a s a k s o I m im ic a l , no n d i o i d t a l. I , ction sfunc y e nce h in g s n l t u d o f f i s s v o y aw t wa s: d A lo t e wa e s. I s no w i k c m n 't o e n h i r d id my exp e em . I st a s h u j t s d a e sw w a nt ro ces p t h th o u g
All I know is I hated how families looked so happy and mines wasn't!
I was having the time of my life. I'll never forget my sister's friend. I ain't gone to say her name but it starts with an “S.” One night she spent a night at our house with my sister. To remind you I was in 6th grade and she was in 9th or 10th. She was a very light skinned girl, taller than me of course, and super thick! She was also pretty and mixed with Puerto Rican. All night I stuck with them. She kept calling me cute, allowed me to touch her booty which they thought was funny, and allowed me to lay in bed with them. Once my sister went to sleep, which felt like it took forever, “S” got out of bed and looked at me in the bed wide awake watching tv. I looked at her, she smiled and signaled for me to come here, and walked off. I got up a couple seconds later and went to the living room where I followed her.
When I finally came up with the energy to go inside the living room she started kissing me. She stuck her tongue in my mouth and touched all over me, Im guessing to excite me but she soon found out I was already excited. She then stopped kissing me: she took all her clothes off and I'm just watching amazed because she looked like a woman I seen on a porn. She sat on the living room couch butt naked and spread her legs from east to west. I eagerly scrambled out my clothes and went in, doing the best I could. Once I started shaking, she stopped me and put me inside her mouth. Then the next thing I knew she put her clothes on, said nothing to me, and went back to my sister's room.
Nobody ever had the “birds and the bees” conversation with me, how kids were made, not about condoms nor oral sex. As I look back, I realized that she kind of took advantage of me, but I didn't care. That was not the first time an older female allowed me between her legs. Before this, it was my brother’s girlfriend in Minnesota, then before that it was my cousin’s friend in Chicago, who was like 6 years older. There also were a few more. I not only thought I liked it, but I thought it was normal.
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I slept on the “couch.” In the morning, “S” didn’t treat me the same. She acted as if nothing happened. I thought we had something going on. She became not a factor, after a while. I realized, as I grew up, and actually started to learn about sex and relations, that all those older girls only used me for their own sexual desires. That changed me because I looked at all older women like I had a chance. The girls my age were cool but I “needed” an older woman.
Not too long after the session with “S,” the principal from West Middle School paid my momma a surprise visit. One day, I came into the house. I don't know where I came from. When I walked in the door my momma and the principal were sitting on the couch. (Yes, the same couch!) I knew this wasn't good by not only the energy but by the tone of my momma's voice and the look on her face. I feared no one like I feared her. I remember walking up to them with the politest grammar my young mind could possibly allow me to properly pronounce. They started talking.
Comparing that to now, the principal was like the State's Attorney and my mom was the judge. The difference is now I have a paid attorney, there I was pro se. Me and my crew were being accused of punching a girl after pulling a fire alarm. While the State (The Principal) had so much evidence, The Judge (My Mom) watched me with so much anger like she decided the verdict already, and the defense (Me) couldn't do nothing but cry. I couldn't say a word. I was also accused of majority of the violence in school and of being a gang chief.
WHAT..!?
Now, as an adult, I realize that I was crying so hard and left so speechless not only because I was scared but because me and my crew was innocent! We didn't do it! I wouldn't have allowed anyone I “fake” hung out with to hit a female.. Really..! Luckily I didn't get expelled but I did get suspended for 2 weeks with the threat of being expelled. I made “love” and got “sentenced” on the same couch.
During my suspension, I went to the school to get the girl I was dating at the time. I told her to meet me where I knew most of my associates wouldn’t be because I wanted to only chill with her. I was trying to be on my best behavior. Me and my girlfriend Nia got together and walked hand in hand to the weed man house as we talked. When we got there, I had her sit on the porch and wait for me while I went inside. This was only a block away from my house and the park so I planned to take her to the park and smoke and chill. However, when I came out the house the whole porch was surrounded by people. As soon as I stepped out I heard “is that him” and someone said, “yea.”
It was a grown man who walked up and said, “Why you put yo’ hands on my nephew?” I'm confused; In my mind I'm like “what..?” My protective instinct kicked in and I told my girlfriend to stay on the porch. I felt like they were about to jump me but hopefully I could just talk them down because I had this girl with me and I didn't want her hurt at all. I stepped off the porch and said “I don't know yo’ nephew. What you talking about?” He said, “You go to West Middle School right?” I said “yea” “Well my nephew said you punched him and ran today.” I said, “Man, his ass lyin!” Then out of nowhere dude spit in my face and said, “Keep yo hands to yo’self bitch.”
I was completely embarrassed. My girlfriend just saw her boyfriend get spat on and I did nothing about it. I wanted to fight everyone of them but the good part of my brain told me to get my girlfriend out of there. By the way, I didn't punch his nephew. I was suspended!
So I wiped the spit off, with my shirt, grabbed my girl by the hand, and walked off. We walked past my house. I told her that it was best if she went home because I was going back. I walked her halfway home. It was one of the most awkward moments in my life. We walked like six blocks together without talking. I felt so little compared to anything!
Though I cried my whole walk alone back home, I needed my lick back so my family and Olajuan’s family went down there and got my payback! The police never showed up but we eventually broke up. I used to question my situations like “why am I going through this or that?”
I had to learn that with every situation and experience comes a lesson. Also, everyone go through the same things in different ways so nobody is ever really alone in suffering.
My actions never really shape me. I was molded by the things I felt deep within. My actions only displayed that I was crying out for help or attention. Everything that I felt, and some of the ways I thought, from everything I experienced, that was out of my control, helped create the fantastic human being I have become! I hope from a glimpse at my childhood, all the parents need that the children see everything and it's shaping them! Everyone remembers everything. Scientifically speaking the time duration of short term memory is approximately 18 seconds. If we remember something longer than 18 seconds it's permanently in our long term memory. So, be cautious on what we allow our children to be exposed to at home! That’s where it all starts.
Donzell Grant IV I Am From To my Beautiful loving Mother Alice None of my mistakes are your fault! To my absent Father Donzell Whom I still don’t know well, nor is it yours! To my hundreds of family members I know nothing of, Our lack of relations is a burden that is not yours! To my family I know yet still don’t, That burden, as well, is one you shall not carry! To my oldest sister Gabrielle, I’m sorry for not listening To my oldest brother Devon, I’m sorry for all the blame To my sister Kopaneck, who’s right over me, I’m sorry for not understanding To my little sister Diamond, I’m sorry for my lack of protection To Choice, I’m sorry for giving up on our marriage To all of you I’ve unknowingly hurt, Carelessly hurt and purposely hurt I am truly sorry….! None of my negative impacts, on this world, Is anyone’s fault! It’s all on Me!
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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