Joshua "Pharaoh"Smith Sins Of A Father
Memoir- A memory that stuck out in one person ' s life that had an impact or effect on theirs or someone in their life. So if I wrote a memoir and picked a memory that impacted me in my life and I had to give it a title, it would be called, “Sins Of A Father”.
I picked that title for different reasons but mostly because I feel that a lot of time, kids suffer for things their fathers have done or haven't done. I can only speak for me and my so-called dad, who wasn't a real dad to me. I can also speak for my son and how my bullshit has affected him and the cause and effects of his life
So here is my version of my “Sins Of A Father.” I will say Enjoy the read, but ain't shit to enjoy from this. And just to let you know, you ' re going to learn that everyone doesn't live happily ever after. Everyone doesn't get the big house with the picket fence. You’re also going to learn that everyone doesn't have the career job they dreamed about as a kid.
You're going to see that the big house is really a jail or prison. The picket fence is a barbed wire fence and the career job ends up being a career inmate. So take a ride with me while I lay My Pain to paper, try to feel my message as well as my Pain.
“Sins Of A Father”
First off, at the moment I'm 43 years old and just a few years ago, I realized that I was wrong just like my father was when It came to disciplining kids when they do something we feel is bad.
Secondly, my father didn't raise me . He wasn't really shit to me. He didn't teach me how to ride a bike or how to tie my shoe or how to get girls.
He was a $5 father.
He had a repair shop on 105th and Michigan from the '80s to the mid-90s. When I went to see him, he would give me $5 and send me to the corner store. When I got back, he would either be busy or gone. It never failed. That's why I feel like I started being bad at an early age cause he wasn't around and my friends' fathers were. I was jealous.
Being bullied played a big part as well. See, people fear or make fun of what they don't understand. At the age of two I was at a laundromat on 107th and King Drive with my mom and big bro. We were playing hide and go seek and I hid behind a dryer. Someone cut the dryer on and the fan belt behind it started to spin. I grabbed the belt and the tips of my point finger and middle finger on my right hand were snatched off.
My mom said I ran to her and said look ma, and she started to cry out for help. She said I didn't even cry once. So, growing up I fought a lot cause of the nicknames and jokes at school. At the age of three, I accidentally set my mom ' s carpet on fire. She told my dad and he told her to bring me to him. His idea of disciplining me was to grab my right hand and held my thumb over his lighter and burned it till it bubbled and turned black. Real shit!
At the age of four, I ran away from home to go see my grandma. I rolled my tricycle from 112th and Vernon to 103rd and LaSalle. 21 blocks by myself early in the morning. No one stopped to ask me where were my parents, or where I was going. I made it all the way there and my grandma called my mom over and wanted my mom to whoop me. Ain't that a bitch!
From stealing out of stores to throwing rocks at cars on the e-way, to fighting, to gangbanging and selling drugs. I done it all. I've been to eight different grammar schools, two High schools, and two trade schools. Yeah, just imagine how hard it was to keep friends. I wasn't around long enough to build a bond with anyone.
I can honestly say that all those ass whoopings I got didn't make me do better. Hell, they made me mad at the world and so I acted worse. I got immune to them and I wasn't scared of ass whoopings anymore. I learned a lot a fucking lessons in my life the hardest of ways. I stayed in trouble. That's how I got the nickname “Trouble”. I used to hear, “Here Comes Trouble”. So since I was called that I made sure I did that. Cause trouble.
When I had my first child in 98, I should have handled being a father differently. But all I did was end up treating my son the same way I was treated when I was growing up. That's all I knew.
My life was filled with a lack of male figures. All my life, my mom raised me the best a woman can do. But don't get it twisted. She wasn't no joke. She use to fuck me up growing up. My worst ass whoopings came from her. But that's a different story. Anyway, a lot of time was taken from my so-called dad, uncles, and big Bros due to jail and prison. I guess that is the main reason they weren't around me when I needed them. I wasn't around my son really his first couple years of his life.
I was 18 when I had my son. I was young and dumb and to be 100% honest with you and myself, I was terrified to be a father. I didn't know how to be one because mine wasn't around. Fucked up part is, my dad lived on 105th and Michigan, eight blocks from me. One fucking mile away and he wasn't in my life. I didn't even know my father's side of the family till after I grew up. I mean, I knew my big sister, big brothers and my favorite little sister, but not uncles and aunties, or even my cousins.
When I went to jail the first time in August 2002 to February 2005, I was taken out of my son ' s life. He was with me every time his mom wanted a break and that was a lot before I was locked up. When I got home, my son ' s mom called me at my mom ' s house and informed me that my son is just as bad as I was. Maybe because I wasn't around as of late. So my first visit with my son when I got home was me whipping his ass for messing up in school. To reunite with my son at 7 years old with a whipping, say a lot about my lack of parenting. Hell, technically, I was a stranger to him and here I was.
“Hey
Fucked up right. Between me and his mom, he got his ass whooped for every little thing. Even for shit that didn't warrant a whooping.
son, I'm home, whip, whip, whip, whip.”
In 2009, my son ' s mom got a promotion and was sent to Texas and she took my son with her. That's when he got worse. April 2014, I get a call from my son ' s mom saying she fear for our son ' s life. That he is running away from home for days at a time, acting a fool in school, talking back and being disrespectful to teachers and security staff he started his own little gang with the kids in his complex and was going around stealing bikes and bullying the white kids around there. She told me the police around there is already racist and asked me if he can come live with me before he end up in jail or worse. Sound familiar?
So less than 24 hours after the call, me and my girlfriend/woman at the time drove 18 hours straight to go get my only son. Funny shit though, when my son got home from school, and saw me sitting on the front couch, he damn near shit a brick. His eyes look for an Escape Route but his feet wouldn't move. He then put his head down and took a deep breath and said, “ come on let's get this over with." He then headed to his bedroom and I said, “ you think I drove 18 hours just to whip your ass nah I got other plans.” I told him to go pack his stuff cause he was going back to Chicago with me. I told him that we going to leave all this bullshit in Texas and start fresh when we get home.
18 and a half hours on the road, my son was in the back seat, just is quiet as a church mouse. He did not trust me at all. He thought for sure he was going to get his ass handed to him when we got home but his promise, all we did was talk. After our talk, that was the moment I realized that I had a great kid after all. He was just lashing out. All he wanted was for me, his father, to spend time with him and just listen to him. My son knew I loved him, I just wasn't loving him, if you understand that.
We were cool till he got into High School. I should have chosen his high school with more thought. There actually were better schools, but my friend's kids went to that school, so I sent my son. Worst fucking move ever. I sent my son to Harlan on 96th and Michigan. Peer pressure was a bitch.
All parents know that a relationship with their kids has steps just like other relationships. As for me and my son, you have, #1. Financial. That's the name brand clothes, shoes, phones, and much much more. Twice as bad for females. Trust me!!!
#2. Emotionally. That's when they rebelled or what we call smelling themselves attitude, mood swings, self-esteem issues, and much much more. Three times worse for girls. Lol. Last but not least,
#3. Socially. They want to keep up with the joneses. They want to fit in or be a part of something. This is where my worst fear plays apart. It's called peer pressure. Peer pressure comes in the forms of clicks, gangs, crews, mobs, and a lot more. My son fell in line with the wrong click of guys and here we are today.
A lot has happened between me and my son from 2014 till 2017. There was never a grey area with us. Either we good or we bad. Happy or sad, funny or not funny at all. I could go deeper but it's too much to put out. There it is just too personal, but here is a little letter I'm sending to my son. Then you the reader will understand where this is going…..
To my twin, my son,
As painful as it is to write this letter to you, I have to endure it to get my message to you. First of all, I love you. Secondly, it’s no way a father should be writing his son like this. But here we are and here it is. I never wanted you to be a part or see a part of this way of life. No father would. I thought the way I was Raising you was the right way and the way it was supposed to go. If I had followed my own advice I was Drilling in you, I will not be here.
Four simple steps. #1. be careful who you hang around, because you will always be “Guilty By Association”.
#2. Just because you call someone your friend or see them as your friend don't mean that they see you the same way.
My first time locked up, my celly used to say his prayer before he was released and it stuck with me. “Father God please protect me from my friends and family and allow me to handle my enemies myself.” I totally understand that prayer now that I'm in here because of my so called friends.
#3. Always follow your first mind. When you second guess yourself, is usually the wrong thought. You'll see right always comes before wrong.
And #4. Always try to think before you act or even speak. Majority of the things you do or say you wouldn't if you thought about it first. “No don't tell your girl that cuz you know she going to get mad. No don'tget in that car cause it's nine times out of 10 it's stolen.” Stuff like that happens often.
If I had stayed true to my advice to you, I wouldn't be here, in jail fighting to get home. But here I am and there you are. I understand you are going through the same shit that I'm going through with you being in prison counting down the days till you come home. Son, please just learn from “ our ” mistakes because jail and prison ain't no place for no young man that's trying to figure his life out. This is modern day slavery. No one or nothing is worth going through this.
I'm your dad and was learning to be a great father. I was your friend, voice of reason, and a foot when you need it one up your ass. I had control over your life as a dad but I did not abuse that title by telling you when to eat or sleep or even shit. When you could wash your clothes or leave your room. But now someone else is telling you when to do all of that and telling me as well.
I hurt like hell to know that you have become a victim to what is called “Sins Of A Father”. You may not know it but you have become part of a cycle that I should have broken when I had you.
See, your granddad wasn't shit when I was growing up. I lived on 103rd and LaSalle and 112th and Vernon he stayed on 104th and state and 105th and Michigan. But yet I barely seen him, and when I did, he would give me $5 and send me to the game room or corner store, and when I got back, he would either be busy or gone. If I didn't go to him, I wouldn't see him. Fucked up right.
It's not my fault I got 30 cousins that don't even know I exist. I didn't meet my brothers and sisters till I got older and met them through my big sister. I was something like a fucking secret. He didn't teach me how to ride a bike, or drive a car or even swim. My mom taught me how to tie my shoes and how to treat or get the girl. What he did teach me was how to be an asshole to my kids, or how not to love them or the power of $5. He taught me how to give a damn good ass whooping too.
What really hurt more than anything is my sisters (six of them) and my brothers (seven of them) had the best of them. Time!!! I can sit here and tell you a million reasons why I hate him now, but f*** it let's move on.
Son, I won't say I blame society or say you are a product of our environment, but what I will honestly say you ' re a product of your father that wasn't taught how to be a father by his father. The great thing is when you come home, you will still be young and able to correct “ our ” wrongs and have kids of your own. Love them son and teach them the right way.
Be better than me.
Break the cycle.
When you find the right woman give her 100%. You going to know her when you meet her. Don't f*** it up like I did, and you know what I'm talking about. Please, last but not least, don't worry about making me proud make your kids proud.
Dedicated to my son: Aka Lil Pharaoh "B"
Joshua "Pharaoh" Smith
I Am From
I am from Roseland and Woodlawn. From The Hundreds and Murder Town.
I am from Fiske Grammar /school that really is a gladiator school.
I’m from where it’s safe to say it’s not safe for kids to play Cause the gang violence is on its way.
I am from where the pool water is blue, and one fight turns it red.
From where no grass grows in the yard and even rain can’t grow it.
I’m from mama ’ s baby, Daddy’s maybe Cause for me my father surely wasn’t ready.
I’m from a strong Black woman and a $5 father.
From struggling to live without my father at home.
And from learning to be a man from a woman that did it alone.
From being the youngest child to the only child at home.
I’m from being bad and making mistakes, And from turning bad to good and learning from my mistakes.
I’m from being in the Dark to walking into The Light.
I’m from The Double O’s.
From the Ten Tray to The Triple Aces, From where they did (Yummy-D) Dirty.
I am from the streets but Thank “God”
I’m no longer street.
Until the lion learns to write their own story, tales of the hunt will always glorify the hunter - African Proverb
Copyright 2023 ConTextos
