Legacy Of A Queen
Irell Dickens
The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people who are 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 collaborated with the Cook County Sheriff's Office to implement Authors Circle in Division X of 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 narrative about violence and peace-building, and help author a hopeful future for these men, their families, and our collective communities. While each memoir's text is solely the work of the Author, the images used to create this book's illustrations have been sourced from 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 fully illustrated books. In collaboration with
Legacy Of A Queen Irell Dickens
As I wake up every morning, I notice a duck family outside my window. They have water, grass, and their own living and safety zone. They remind me of humans in a way, how they protect their children by being right beside them, every step of the way.
It also reminds me of how my mother was with her children, which makes me smile, thinking of those memories.
My mother is someone I would call strong, independent, intelligent, genuine, loving, caring, hardworking, liberal, God-fearing, honest, humble, and real a go-getter type of woman—a queen. I received my strength, intelligence, and knowledge from my mother. Also, the guidance she gave me is why I am who I am today.
I am so proud of my mother, although the struggle is real, being a single parent.
She still was able to accomplish a lot and stay focused in life.
She made so many sacrifices, such as one day when I was playing outside and me and my friends climbed on a roof. The owner noticed we were up there and came up there to make us get down, and we all scattered and I jumped off. I landed on my feet and thought everything was cool as I limped home.
10 minutes later, I tried to walk and fell over.
I hollered, I cried, and called my mother and told her my foot’s broken, which I really didn’t know for sure. When she finally made it home, I was asleep. She came in and said, “What happened?” and I lied and told her I twisted my ankle. She helped me put my coat on and carried me down the stairs to the cab that was waiting to take us to the hospital. She put me in a wheelchair and rolled me in.
They put a cast on my leg, gave me crutches, and instructed me what not to do and sent me home. After an hour in the hospital, we were back in the cab on our way home. The ride was silent. Every ten minutes, she would ask me if I am ok. When we pull up to our home, she would help me out the car and up the stairs.
The following morning, I heard her talking to her supervisor, saying, “My son broke his foot and I can't make it in today,” which he responded, “Cool!” So my mother was like my personal maid that day. She brought me everything I asked for. I was so glad my mother stayed home with me and I didn’t have to attend school.
We watched TV, laughed, joked, played, and ate together. I knew my mother loved me, which made me feel so blessed and grateful. She told me I'm on punishment after my cast came off, and I said, “Ain’t this my punishment? My foot is broken and I’ma be in the house for two months.”
I remember I got a back spasm. I was in my room asleep. I woke up and pulled a muscle getting out of bed. I instantly fell back in the bed. Constant cries and pain. I reached for the house phone to call my mother, crying. She answered at the first ring: “What's wrong with you?” I cried, “My back broke!”
She said she was on her way home to take me to the hospital.
She called a cab, and when the cab pulled up, she carried me on her back down 27 stairs, sacrificing, falling, hurting herself, carrying a 15-year-old. Once we made it to the bottom, she carried me down an additional 15 stairs and put me in the cab. I told her, “Ma, thank you for coming to my rescue and leaving work. I love you.” She said, “My kids come first,” and that she loves me back. Back to back, she showed me unconditional love.
I remember a moment when my youngest daughter fell outside. They were playing in the backyard, which was gated, and I go out and check on them, back and forth. I had just walked in from checking on them and I heard screaming. I instantly jumped, worried, panicking, like, Who the hell made my baby cry? As I approached my oldest and youngest, I asked my older one, “What’s wrong with your sister?” She said, “She fell and scraped her knee,” and my temper calmed down. I ran to her, picked her up, took her in the house, and laid her on the couch.
Whatever I could do to make my baby feel good also makes me feel good. I stopped her from crying, and told her it’s ok. I kissed her knee. She smiled, and at that moment she made me feel like a hero to her. I asked her, “Do you want to stay inside with Dada so I can take care of you?” She politely said, “No.” I said, “Ok, be careful. Love you.”
Now I truly understand what those moments when my mother just smiled and said she love me mean. It feels good to her to make me feel good, knowing I can depend on her to make it all better. It’s the same as my daughter felt at the moment, and her being happy makes me happy.
As a kid growing up, I saw my mother struggle as a single parent, which was hard for me to see. To see someone I cherish face what she faced. As I got a little older, I convinced myself to help her out, which led me to shooting dice, selling, whatever to help. I looked for guidance and development through my mother. My mother is my hero, and instilled strength and independence in me.
She taught me so many things, such as survival skills and how to be strong at the times I felt my weakest. She helped me turn from a boy to a man. I salute my mother because she is stronger than most men I know. Through her struggles, she always remained humble, confident, motivated, and optimistic through it all, for us. Raising three kids by her lonely, and managing to maintain work, school, and provide for us, is the definition of a real mother.
As I watch the ducks move as a family, how they protect the ducklings and lead them makes me reflect on how my mom would wake me up and tell me to get my little brother up, so we can get dressed for school. She’s already ready, so she’s waiting for us. If we’re running slow, she yells, “Hurry up, so we won’t miss the bus!”
We had a set schedule according on how the bus work. We’re sleepy from the night before, from staying up all night, playing and watching TV when we were told to go to bed. Tired, sleepy, and grumpy—just as my kids be—we’re dragging getting ready. Coats on, on our way out the door. She locks up, and stops at the neighbor door and tells them watch the crib before we leave out the door.
We ask, “Ma, can we stop at the store?” which she oblige. Walking into the store, happy and excited from the dollar she just gave us. We bought chips, juice, and candy, and walked around the corner to the bus stop. “Right on time,” my mother would say. She puts us on the bus first, and tells us to have a seat while she pays her way. We usually go all the way to the back and she follows. The weather was cold, with two feet of snow on the ground, so the bus was driving at a slow speed. My brother and me were too busy looking out the window, while she constantly looking at her watch, hoping we won’t be late due to a 30-minute slow ride. We finally make it off the bus in time, as we walk around the corner to the school. She tells us, “Have a good day and be good,” as she walks us to the school door. She worked right across the street from the school, which was a convenience for her.
Thinking about my mother parenting skills and morning drop-offs allows me to reflect on those mornings dropping my own kids off at school, just as she would drop me and my little brother off. I usually wake up before them, or sometimes my girl wakes them up before me, which leads to them waking me up. I help my youngest get dressed, wash her face, and brush her teeth, while my oldest does most of the work herself. I make them a lunch and we’re out the door.
They usually wake up tired, grumpy, and sleepy, but happy. On our way out, I lock the door, but they be the first ones down the stairs, and I get in front of them before leaving out the door to go outside.
They sing as we walk to the car, playing with each other. I tell them, “Y’all gonna have a good day?” They say, “Yeah, Daddy.” Then we get in the car. I start the engine, and they say, “Put ‘Minnesota’ on,” my youngest daughter’s favorite song. So now we’re driving, and they elated and cracking up, smiling, singing the song. As I look back at them, it makes me feel so great as a father that spoils his kids, a proud and blessed father.
We stop at the store ’cause that’s what they’re used to—chips, candy, juice, cookies, they got it all. They walk in the store so happy, with Kool-Aid smiles. Back in the car, driving toward the school. As I park, I say, “Y’all ready?”
We get out the car. My youngest always want me to carry her; she was four at the time. We walk to the basement to get them breakfast, which is what my youngest likes to do, so she can get breakfast too. My oldest gets her breakfast. I always carry her breakfast to her classroom and pass it to her.
I tell her, “Have a good day,” and that I love her, and kiss her. Her little sister kisses her as well, and we’re off. Leaving the school, I have to carry her back to the car, strap her in, and pull her breakfast out my pocket ’cause she’s not supposed to be getting any, by her not attending the school. She eats her breakfast on our way to her school. Now she’s ready before she even gets to school.
I park and tell her, “Let’s get it.” She repeats it and it’s funny. But she wants to walk, not have me carry her to school, lol. I walk her to her room, tell her I love her and to have a good day, and ask, “What time you want me to pick you up?” She says “3:30,” and I say ok.
As I reflect back on the things my mother did, it makes feel grateful and blessed, and made me wonder what I would do without my mother. She always made ends meet no matter what the case may be. I remember one day we came home from school, and me and my brother smelled a home-cooked meal. We both said, “Momma’s home!” She got off early that day. We walked through the door and yell, “Ma!” She says, “Wash y’all hands and come eat.” We raced to wash our hands, excited to eat. She had gotten off early and came home to cook for us.
As we sit down to eat, say grace, and start to eat, she asked how was our day, which we both responded, “Good!” in unison. We laugh and make jokes back and forth with each other until we're done eating. After dinner, she helps us with our homework. She tells us to run some bathwater so we can get in the tub. My brother would go first, and then me, and then I would have to iron all our clothes. I would even iron my mother clothes, ’cause she be tired from work and cooking. We would kiss her goodnight and tell her we love her. Sometimes it would be hard to sleep, because she would be on the phone with her friend all night laughing, until she gets sleepy.
My mother is a very special woman in my life. She’s my queen. Only the strongest survive, and she definitely one of the strongest, coming from a proud son. As I look outside my window, incarcerated, watching the family of ducks takes me back to childhood and thoughts of when my mother use to travel with us. How she always protected us everywhere we went. It always felt good to see my mother smile. I felt safe, protected, loved, and never lonely as long as my mother was present. I felt like I could ask my mother for anything and she would always provide it for me. She spoiled me just like I spoiled my kids, and I know she felt good making us happy, because I feel the same way about my own.
Looking back, I know it’s a blessing to have my mother in my life, because some kids don’t get that. Some parents don’t put their kids first. Knowing she always put us first makes me grateful of her. I feel privileged to have learned from my mother how to be a great parent, to truly show your kids unconditional love.
It gives me joy to do for my kids, because they are a reflection of me. It feels great to reflect back on all I’ve learned from my mother on how to be a parent, and just like the ducks outside of my window, I will protect my family like my mother protected us.
Irell Dickens I am from a field where the struggle is real, From blood, guns, drugs, and murder. I am from the city where it's a war within the city, Hate, peril, where you can taste death. I am from an area where the devil hold you for ransom, Where your soul is not enough. I’m from a God-fearing and respectful family. I’m from where the city is not holy; I’m from the Holy City. I’m from a big-hearted and loving family, From “trouble is easy to get into and hard to get out of.” I’m from Chicago, a destitute war zone, Where you can still find the loveliest and cold-hearted people, From canned foods and food stamps, From where you go to Grandma’s house to feel safe and in peace so you can sleep. I’m from the westside straight out the basement, Where the violence destroys peace.
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