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 Family Jorge Espana
It’s a beautiful summer day. The sun's out and there’s no clouds in the sky. Both our families are all here celebrating together the happiest day of our lives. I’m wearing a black and white tuxedo, she’s wearing a beautiful white dress, our son is even matching me with his little tuxedo. The scenery is more of a Mexican traditional wedding, and while we are saying our vows to each other, about to be married, I stare dead in her beautiful eyes and admire her face. When the pastor tells me, I may kiss the bride, I close my eyes to give her a kiss and right when I go to kiss her “I WAKE UP!” I wake up to the flashlight, beaming in my face because the correctional officer is doing their morning count. I wake up in this small cell, staring at the walls. I wake up, reflecting and reminiscing.
I never imagined me being in Cook County jail, with no bond being detained, having to wait for trial, having to prove my innocence and fight for my freedom. Being wrongfully accused misunderstood and portrayed as a monster for serious charges. I always imagined at this time me being married to the mother of my child “Karla,“ living in a big house with our son “Jayzel” and our two dogs “Icey and Stormy” as one big happy family. I remember the day I saw my son born it was the day I change for the better. I felt more in love with the mother of my child for bringing the happiest joy of my life my baby boy Jayzel Amari Espana. I had this goal in life, wanting my son to grow up with both his parents together, you know the ideal, happy family image. I didn’t have that for too long when I was a child. My parents separated when I was four. They constantly were arguing, yelling, and fighting.
They never showed it out in public, but there was always conflict and no trust with each other so they ended their 10 year relationship. I was too young to understand what was going on. My parents even went to the extent of making me and my older sister choose who do you want to stay with. My sister chose my father. I was too young to make a decision on my own so I chose the same. We live with our father for most of our childhood, and got to see our mother on the weekends. So growing up watching these other kids with their parents together happy made me want the same thing when I got older.
I didn’t want my son growing up similar to the way I did. I wanted something better for him. I wanted him to grow up happy with both his parents together. But only now me and Karla are no longer together. I miss them both. I wipe my eyes after being woken up, wishing my dream lasted longer. I get up off my bunk to go use the washroom. I try to clear my head, but as I’m using the toilet, I stare down at my feet to look at my bitten up Michael Kors Boxer that I’m wearing, and I remember my dog Icey. She’s a white fur full breed Pomeranian and she was my 1st dog who changed the way I see things in life. I purchased her after Karla had a miscarriage, and we were both sad about the situation because we wanted to have a baby together. Karla’s Mother, who had a Pomeranian of her own recently just had puppies so I decided to buy one to cheer us both up and it was a blessing because she did. Me and Karla named her “Icey”
and she was like our 1st child. Our dog Icey got so attached to me she would literally never leave my side. She would follow me everywhere I go, especially when I had to use the bathroom. I would be sitting on the toilet while she would jump in my boxer briefs like it’s a hammock, and she would start digging with her little paws, like she’s digging a hole. She would start biting my boxers, leaving little holes in them. I would literally start laughing every time she did that because she would do that every day. Never missing a beat. She’s a real character. She’s one of the reasons I became an animal person.
She always enlightened my heart and I treated her like a daughter. She is my loyal little rider so every time I’m wearing these bitten up Michael Kors boxers I think about her wondering if she’ll remember me when she sees me. I miss her tons.
After I finish using the washroom, I try to clear my head again, but everything I do reminds me of my family. Even as I’m brushing my teeth right now trying to get ready I think about the mother of my child. We used to do that together every morning right before she or I had to go to work even before stepping out to go wait in line for a sneaker release, trying to make sure we get ourselves a pair. We are big sneaker heads. We used to do everything together. She is my other half. But only now, we’re just a broken family…
After I finish getting ready, I stare out of the chuck from my door, with my hands over my head, trying to distract my mind as I wait to come out of my cell. I would stare out of my window, but the only view I have outside are these brick walls and the steel cage covering the window, wondering what is the purpose for this window. The only thing I get out of it is knowing I’m trapped in a cage like a cage bird. I hate this.
I would remember holding my son, and we would both stare outside our window from home, showing him our dogs in the front yard playing, showing him the cars that are passing by, showing him the beautiful sky. Just happy, happy at life and knowing he’s in mine. He’s my little clone and he’s getting big without me. Sigh, I miss him so much…
I hear a key unlocking my cell door, seeing that it’s time to come out for our morning let out and the first thing I do is go straight to the phone and the only people I call are my mother and sister. It's like no matter how old I am, I’m always going to be a mama’s boy and my older sister is like a second mother/best friend to me. They are my rock. They keep me together when I am broken because during this whole pretrial incarceration I've been depressed, I've been grieving, and I’ve been suffering.
I’ve been suffering here since I got arrested. I remember the first day I got arrested. My jaw was broken in two places, my bottom teeth were out of frame, feeling like they were going to fall off, piercing through my bottom gums, causing it to split and bleed uncontrollably. Forced to spit out a mouth full of blood every 10 seconds, feeling nothing but an agonizing pain, wasn’t able to speak, and had abrasions and bad scrapes all over my body. But the officers who arrested me didn’t seem to care at all nor did the detectives.
In their eyes, I’m just a man being charged for 1st degree and attempted murder. I was left in the police station for 2 nights like that before being taken to Cook County, and then had to wait another night in Cook County Jail before being taken to Stroger hospital to be treated for my injuries. I was in the worst pain I can be physically and mentally. But even going through that, and much more in here, nothing hurts more than having to miss precious moments with my son, like missing his 1st words, missing when he learned how to walk, missing his baptism, even missing his 1st birthday. I have missed out on all of that because I’m here fighting to prove my innocence.
Hoping I don’t miss out on any more of my son’s life. Wondering what he’s doing right now? Does he know I'm his father? Does he know I miss him and talk about him every day? Is he doing OK? Is he eating good? Is he being taught the right things? 1 million questions run through my mind about him stressing…
I broke down to my mom on the phone saying “life‘s not fair. I just had my son and I’m missing his life right now. I was planning on proposing to the mother of my child on my birthday. I had goals and had a future planned for us. How can she do this to me? I’m a good person living in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.” My mother tells me “you have to let her go already. It’s been almost 2 years. If she really cared about you, she wouldn’t be lying about everything that happened. If she told the truth you wouldn’t be going through this right now. She’s out there living her life, moved on without you already. Stop doing this to yourself.” Even though it hurts so bad hearing that, I have nothing but love and respect for my Mom because she’s a woman with no filter. She calls it how she sees it and like I said, she puts me together when I am broken.
My mother also tells me stuff like “stay strong, you’re going to get through this, pretty soon your truth will come to the light and more importantly you will get back to your son and your two little princesses Icy and Stormy (my dogs) will be here waiting for you to. I love you Mijo, keep your head up.” After talking to my mom on the phone I thank God and appreciate that I have her and my 3 sisters in my life. I don’t know how I would manage being here without them.
I would remember coming over to my mom’s house every week with my son and Karla to visit my family having game night with my sisters, playing games like Uno, Monopoly, and Jenga, ordering takeout or cooking a nice home meal. Feeling connected and blessed. But now I’m here playing cards or chess, eating peanut butter and jelly or a bologna with salad dressing on bread for breakfast and lunch feeling alone and cursed.
The more I eat these sandwiches the more and more I miss my old job at “Jersey Mikes.” I had ambitions on wanting to own my own franchise of Jersey Mike’s. I still do or at least have ambitions on making sure my son is financially secured for the future. I have to make it back home.
As time passes throughout the day, it's time for all of us to go back to our cells until the next shift, which I hate because I am left in a small cell with my memories. I try to stay positive and do productive things distracting my mind while I’m in my cell, like reading, writing poetry, and drawing. I’ve never did any of those things when I was outside of the world until I got here. But then again, I’ve never been so depressed as I am, since I’ve been here and listening to this radio while I’m in my cell doesn’t help at all.
Because every time I hear a love song I am constantly reminded of the mother of my child. Every time I hear a song we used to listen to together, I’m back to being down. Feeling tormented with this music waiting to get out of my cell ASAP! Like everything that I’m doing to distract my mind isn’t helping. I don’t know why I can’t get over her? I ask myself am I wrong for missing her? I ask myself, does she even think about me or miss me? We haven’t spoken since I’ve been arrested because we can’t. I miss what we had. I miss our family that’s now broken.
My celly sees the stress in my face and talks it out with me. Helping me cope. That’s one thing. I can admit that every cell mate that I’ve had since being in Cook County Jail has helped me cope, helping me get through my days here. I remember my first cellie I have ever had named James, who broke it down to me. He gave advice and told me if I ever needed to talk, just ask him. If I ever needed help with anything he got me. He was real cool with me. Every cellie that I had then and now felt like a close friend. Building a bond and always lifting each other's spirits up. In my mind they are some of the ones who know what I’m going through and they can relate which helps a lot because I’m not the only one going through it.
After my cellie talks it out with me I hear the correctional officer telling us it’s time to come out. Which is a relief to me because I hate being in my cell. It’s never an accurate time when we come out. I decided to bring out some food to cook myself something that can remind me of home. Or at least close to it. I used to do that in the outside world? I have a passion for that. I hope one day to open a food truck business and sell food all around the city. My own recipes.
As I come out, I decide to cook with the people who became my close friends here. People who are like the cellies I had. People who also help me get by here. We usually crack jokes, talk about a bunch of stuff outside in the world we used to do, watch TV, and even work out doing whatever we can do to help time pass by, knowing we have to do the same thing every day. They help my days pass by here. They mentally help me, but in the end it can only do so much.
I have a lot on my mind. I’m human. I keep thinking about my son. I keep thinking about the mother of my child. I try to follow the advice my family tells me to try to see the glass half full out of life rather than half empty. That this is only a chapter of your life, not the end. But being without my son, while he’s so young, I feel half empty. I have to make it back to him. I have to prove my innocence.
When the night passes by and it’s time for lock up, I go to my cell and I mark another day off my calendar, and I stare real hard at it because today is the day my son was born and he just turned two today and I didn’t get to tell him happy birthday at all.
Today has been a roller coaster of emotions for me because of that, but I know my family is right that this isn’t the end of my chapter. Better days will come. I have to see that. I lay on my bed before I go to sleep. I pray, I pray everything goes well when I go to trial, and I pray I can get back to my broken family…
Jorge Espana I Am From I am from the side where nobody sleeps Where restaurants and bars are always open For the ones who love to eat and drink I am from where the snow and cold doesn’t Keep anyone from staying in Where Northface, Columbia, Canada Goose Or even Moose Knuckle Jackets are something we use big I am from a city that’s segregated but doesn’t mean we are separated Where gang violence over the years has escalated Where other people mistakes or accidents can have you incarcerated I am from where your family are your closest friends Because family is all you have in this world From where my mother and father told me when I find love Make sure it's with that special girl I am from my roots I am from my Mexican traditions Where I wake up smelling salsa verde, pozole or steamed tamales in the kitchen I am from, if you tell me your problems I’ll actually listen, because I care I care about my son growing up and me being there I am from a family who loves to stay connected Who taught me to see the glass half full out of life’s lessons I am God’s child and I know I’m not alone I am from the city where Chicago is my home
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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