FreeWrite Zine 2

dear readers …

Anonymous Girl

Remembering My Brother’s Death

Hello Family and Peers,

So before you do wrong think about the consequence. Then maybe next time you’ll stay away from nonsense.

from our visiting artists Avery R. Young

Michael

My name is Ashley and I am 18 years of age and pregnant with twins. Yeah, it’s fun, but I’m locked up with no hope of finding a way of getting out of here. Being pregnant is hard because there are so many emotions. It is hard to express my feelings to others. It’s very depressing, and even more depressing because I’m in this crazy place.

Love,

I just wish this time would fly is all you think Not knowing you’ll be home as soon as your eyes blink. “Man you ain’t never leaving,” all the other dudes try to jinx, But then you tell those guys, “My boat is going to float as y’all’s going to sink.”

Really, I don’t know what to do. My boyfriend is my only support, but I need more and it’s hard for me to get to where I need to be. I worry about the damage that could happen between now and when the babies are born. My biggest worry is what I am going to do about money. Yeah, I’m still in school, but I need a job to fall back on so that I can keep clothes on their backs. I have a little girl at home and I call her ladybug. She is a beautiful little girl. It’s hard to be locked up without her. I don’t talk about her because I’m ashamed about what other people would say. I’m pregnant with two more and that is a bad taste in people’s mouths. Don’t get me misunderstood, she is a beautiful little girl, and I love her, but it’s hard to talk about her. When I was pregnant with her I was in tenth grade, just coming out of the ninth grade. I was fifteen years of age, and it was hard to go to school pregnant.

When I get out of this jam I will try very hard to set an example for my sister, and cousins so they wont go through what I am going through. My family is my life. It took me a while to see that. I want you to finish high school and go to college. Without that you’re just another victim of the industry, trying to get a job at Burger King to feed your family and pay bills.

Thinking about when you were on the bricks Saying, “Man, this smell makes me sick.” Now you say, “I want to go home,” but you don’t have the pick Out there with the older guys trying to be slick.

People talked down on me then, and I really didn’t have anyone to count on but my mommy and my boyfriend. That’s why I don’t talk about her much.

Not knowing if you’re leaving dead or alive You’ve been in this place a couple of times, So your mother cries, But the judge says no more tries. Next step is the Cook County Jail, you shouldn’t be surprised.

One day my brother and me were walking home from school, as we did all the time. It was these boys that I didn’t know too well but he knew them, so they were just looking. We had done something very bad to them. So they walked and walked until they got to the same spot where we were. So then he and my brother just got to passing words back to each other. Me being f*** it it’s not worth this bull****t.” So we start to walk again, and out of nowhere I heard shots coming passed us. So we started to run like we never did before. Now my heart was beating real fast, and I was looking everywhere, but then I realized I was running alone. I stopped and looked back to see if I could see my brother, and there he was, on the ground, not knowing what was going on.

A lot of people are guilty, but many people are not. It’s our word against the State and they have more rank than we do. Once the judge says it’s a done deal, we go home or to the department of corrections. There are also lots of police that put drugs on you and want to get you off the streets even if you don’t do anything. It’s our word against theirs. The government always has the upper hand. Millions of people in the county are not guilty, but many of them spend life in jail with no parole. Some will kill themselves. Some just wait till God calls them home.

It isn’t as easy as it seems. If you know what I mean . Sleeping behind bars, having real good dreams.

It’s hard being pregnant in jail, and just knowing that things are not going to get easier for me. Every day I wake up and things are the same, nothing changes, and I can’t do what I want to do in here.

Johnathan D.

cover artwork: OSVALDO C.

words trump brick / color page brownblackhood / rebel a system / flip day easy / be mo super than “the man” / hold mirror up to mz. “justice” n says on erything playa … caged birds sing … real loud … real raw ... real-est … real talk word … i snitch … truth / color me bad to the bone … or nina simone … yo fam! willie pedomo be the hydro i tweak on / freak domes with a nikki g. poem / then i spit / jb sweat / then i cornel west with tara betts / raise suns poeettes who sonnet a dream that manifest itself a jet i am peace n pleased i intro you to words … decoratin these nancy b.walls of with rhyme … n reason … n pain … n joy … n lost … n found … n tender … n love … n care …n redemption … n song … n bed tick bite … n wordsmyth pillow conversation / like gym shoes reflectin the blues of cameras tattle tellin the un-pretty of chi-city … (on my life) these words proof humans live here … not animals … humans live/here … not animals … humans live here not animals … read us free!

Antonio J.

A Message to My Younger Self

Most people, including me, are attracted by cars, clothes, big houses, the most money, fancy shoes, and car rims. However, once you’re dead and gone God doesn’t care who has the most money. All we have to do is listen to what people have to say. My mother always said if you make your bed, you have to lay in it. Your life, you only get one chance to live it. That’s why I do my best to stay out of trouble.

My emotions are pretty rough, but I will make it through life. I hope one day my kids will understand that I love them no matter what happens. I didn’t know how much it hurt until I got my phone call and heard my little girl’s voice saying, “Mommy, when are you coming home?”

12/14/07 12:27:01 PM

Love Always,

I didn’t mean I’m getting ready For it to happen to walk in Like this those bright paths My life that is and when I I didn’t do I know Want my life good things are To go on going to happen The wrong and I know Path but it I will enjoy Did but it my life and Did but every time live it. It does I learn From it And Try to keep Myself from Going to that Dark path. The last time I walked to that Dark spot I Ended up here The juvenile center And while I’m In here I am Trying to change My ways

Ashley D.

One time I got jumped on really bad and there wasn’t anyone to help me. I was really thinking about hurting the people who jumped on me, but I had to think about my actions because those boys had guns. I’m not about to lose my life over nothing because I got a family. My grandma was there every time I got hurt. That’s why I love her so much. Now when I got locked up I know she don’t like that my moms never was there. But I still love my mom. When they kick me out of school my mama tried her best to get me back in there. She told me, “Don’t let no one disrespect you because they got to show you respect to get it.” I was a bad kid growing up but I’m realizing the stuff I did ain’t cool. Now look at me. I’m 14 years young getting locked up and shot at. I want to live my life. I can’t let no one take it from me. You should not let anyone take your life away from you.

I would like you to stay in school. Don’t slack off and drop out to sell drugs. Don’t get incarcerated. There are more things in life than being behind bars or on the street corner. Things you make from drug money don’t last long. Things you make the honest way last a lifetime and you don’t have to worry about the FBI looking for you or court cases or getting shot or robbed or killed or worse.

Fernando B.

Amanda Klonsky and Ryan Keesling Free Write Jail Arts and Literacy Program Nancy B. Jefferson Alternative School

Sincerely,

I know people that think smoking weed or other drugs is cool, but it’s not. It kills your brain and you can die from that. Be the one in school who is more successful. My people never told me that, so that’s why I’m taking the time to tell you. When I was 7, no one ever told me any advice about staying out of trouble. It’s like people from off the street, they always used to tell me be more of a man and tell the truth. Never lie. Lying makes you less of a man.

Dear Michael,

An Open Letter to Myself

In these letters, our students share profound insights and reflections on their lives. They want to be known. They give us a rare peek at their inner thoughts, hopes and beliefs. We hope that you will see their open letters as an invitation to dialogue. Their voices are unique, irreplaceable and worth hearing. With high hopes,

So I went back to help him up, just thinking he tripped or something- but still I didn’t know what was really going on. Then I saw blood everywhere. I was thinking “what the f*** is going on? What am I going to do now? He’s shot.” And then I realized that I was shot too. So I go to pick him up, and go home. When I made it there, and walked through the door, my mom just got to yelling at me, talking about “what the f*** did I do?”

Dear Little Antonio,

When You Got Something Love it Hold it Keep it Cherish it Because it is not always going to be there. One summer, my dad bought me a green, white, and blue mini motorcycle. I left it outside running in front of my house. A man ran past and jumped on. I came outside to finish riding and I didn’t know where it was at. I was mad. I didn’t know where it was. One day, I saw a little boy riding the same kind as mine, but I wasn’t sure if it was mine. So I walked over to him and looked on the side of the bike to see my initials engraved on it. I was mad. I felt like hitting him, but he was a little boy. So I just took it from him. Sometimes, as you can see, revenge is not the way. I explained to him that my initials was on the bike. I could have just came over, pushed him off the bike, and taken it, but I chose to talk with him about it and he understood and gave it to me. I could have hit him But I would have hurt him And the police would have been looking for me Sometimes you can handle it gentle And ask for it back, go to his parents, or hold him until the police get there. To parents: Always keep your receipts!

It takes guts to be honest and vulnerable in print. These young writers have shown great courage, daring to reveal themselves and tell very personal stories in a place where such sharing is uncommon. These stories are often hard to read, recounting great losses, and their struggles to find their way out of very violent, scary situations. We see in their letters resilience and strength to survive trauma. Then they go on to make meaning out of these experiences.

Witness to Violence and Murder

P.S. Please tell my mother I said that I forgive her for everything she’s done to me. I want my mother to know I don’t blame her for putting me in this situation. I blame myself, and its time for me to grow up. I know that our problem was we were too much alike, but I am realizing that could be a good thing. I know that I need to stop blaming her and that’s exactly what I did. In three more years and I’ll be on my own. She’s preparing me for the world and I’m going to be okay, I really am. So I love you mama. And thank you. From her Daughter, Kawana.

Some students name us their families in these letters. In one letter, a girl admits that she could stay out of jail, but sometimes comes back on purpose because she feels loved here at CCJTDC. The letters express a desire for nurturing and guidance. Our students are figuring out how to be parents, and also how to be children. They dream about their futures and worry about how to find their way.

I said “Nothing, do you mean what did your son do?” Now there was just blood and yelling everywhere, I didn’t know what to do but cry.

Marquill P.

Kawana B.

When you were coming up you were doing what was right. But then something changed because you were around the wrong people. I would like you to be more respectful and go to school. Stay away from the wrong people. Don’t sell drugs on the block and run from the cops. Your moms tells you, “Whatever you need, I give it to you, long as you be in school and not out there with guns. You only got one life, so don’t let the streets take it away from you. Everybody going to miss you if you be locked up. It’s not cool being behind bars. You need to be somewhere driving a car. Be somebody in life, not out there killing people for no reason. I want you to get a job and a lady.”

A Different Way To Handle Things

The thing I lost, was something without a cost. It was easy to take away, so hard to get back. I think about it every day, what can I do? I was a fool, out doing the worst things. Driving cars without keys. I could have been in for something worse. What I think about is, am I cursed? Everything to me is like a bad dream. They saying I was at the crime scene. They won’t believe me. I wasn’t there, but they don’t care. Someone got shot, so his plot was to point me out just because of hatred. Now I sleep in a different bed. In my head, I think I had to pay for something. The thing I lost, My Freedom. I think this is a break to help me think about my past and start my future, even though I lost My Freedom.

Their letters are powerful. Often, they give sage advice to younger people, an insight to those of us who work them. This issue is full of good reminders for all of us; that our kids are precious, unique and that we should hold onto them. As student Marquil P. put it: “When You Got Something/Love it/Hold it/Keep it/Cherish it/ Because it is not always going to be there.”

Johnathan B.

Sincerely,

Kieantae J.

Humberto

Dear Little Larry,

So today I want to say thank you for giving me a clearer vision of my life. If it wasn’t for you I’d probably be dead by now. I really look up to you. Once again, thank you.

The juvenile detention center is bogus. The food is nasty and we only get an hour to go outside. Then we wear these nasty old ragged Audy body clothes. Then we have to go to bed at eight o’clock. We only get an hour at visiting time and sometimes we don’t even get that. Then they try to give us fifteen minutes on phone calls and sometimes 30 minutes. Then we only eat 3 times a day. Then when you say something wrong to the staff they try to put you on confinement.

Something I Lost

I try not to go insane, Stuck in this world with Emotional pain. Trying to stay strong, But this government is Stuck on stupid And that’s wrong. Playing with them will get me Someplace I don’t want to be. I ask God, “Why me?” I didn’t do anything to deserve this cruelty. I think to myself, why won’t this Government leave me alone? I can hardly wait til the day when I get to talk to my mom on the phone. Trying to stay mentally free, But always worried about someone Trying to fight me. When they set me free, I will keep on Having God with me.

Chicago, Illinois 60611.2014

Letter writing can also be a means to reflect on life. We asked each student to write a letter to their younger selves, giving advice while looking back on the experiences they’ve had growing up. Students also wrote to their parents, judges, and others who have power over their lives. These letters are a window into the concerns and hopes of our young people.

He died in my arms, and things just started to fall apart right then and there. This brother of mine is half of me. He’s my twin, and now, a part of me is gone.

I’m going to start loving me for me and stop living in the past. I don’t want to live a thug life. I’d rather live my life, and live it right.

Kenneth L.

Donika C.

Or mail checks to: Free Write Jail Arts and Literacy Program Care of Chicago Lights at Fourth Presbyterian Church 126 E. Chestnut Street

FREEWRITEjailarts.org

My biggest dreams are to become a famous gymnast, get married, and have like 10 kids. I love babies like it ain’t nothing. I want to own a day care center some day. I will call it Lots Of Love Day Care. I want it to open at 6 am and close at about 8 pm. I want my day care to be open to all kinds of kids. I just love kids. Sometimes I dream and wish that I could have my childhood back. I was always too busy worrying about things I shouldn’t have had to worry about.

I Am Trying

Love always,

Donate online at freewritejailarts.org

Rest In Peace Lil’ Bro 1989-2004

It’s not too late for you to stop doing what you’re doing. Please don’t do stupid things because it will come back on you. You will be sitting here fighting a case like me, wishing that you would have listened to me. I really want to tell you that you could get your life taken by being on the streets, by being killed or by getting lockup.

If it weren’t for you, my daughter wouldn’t be right now. I curse you for all the problems you caused, but praise you for all the blessings and miracles. You’ve made me realize that you are the most important thing with me right now. I need you to survive and I will keep you with me. I need you to help me raise my daughter. If I don’t need anyone else I need you.

for youth in detention.

In the language of educators, letter writing is a form of “authentic instruction.” It is purposeful writing to a real audience. In the case of our students, it’s a more downto earth matter of keeping tied in to their families and friends on the outside.

Fear

I have been reading a lot of books during my time in the juvenile center and also in D.O.C. I have a lot of talents but I waste them. I ask myself why this is happening to me, and then I remember that I wasn’t the only one God gave a hard life to. I have to make my life better. To make it in life I understand that we have to make hard sacrifices.

I am so impressed by you. I could get rid of everyone else by doing them wrong but you would never leave my side unless someone or something came and took you away (if you know what I mean.)

Your tax-deductible donation supports arts programming

Martha J.

People used to tell me to chill out on the streets, and that I would end up like my father if I kept breaking laws. I know that you probably don’t want to hear what I’m telling you. People used to talk to me the same way I’m talking to you now, but I wasn’t listening to them. I was doing my own thing because I thought that I was un-catch-able. I was going to learn the hard way. Now I wish that I listened to the people who were trying to talk to me.

I even thought you weren’t worth my time. Too many times you have made me feel as though I had nothing to look forward to. You put me through depression and aggression. You have showed me things no one could even if they tried.

brings the voices of youth in detention into the conversation about their own lives. This, the second issue of Free Write, is a collection of letters written by youth in detention.

We we were living in the projects on 49TH and State Street. One day I was going to the store on 49th and State St. There were two men approaching the store. One of the men struck the other man with his fist, and then proceeded to take shots at the victim. This act of violence led to the victim’s death. Witnessing this brutal incident made me quite sad. The next day one of my best friends named John told about this incident. The man murdered was his father. I attended the funeral. My mother cooked much food for the deceased man’s family. My friend and I shared the day’s activities together.

You’ve known me for about 3 years now (since I was twelve) and you might as well call me your Favorite Girl. Even though you’ve known me for soooo long that doesn’t give me the right to act the way that I’ve been acting. So I know I don’t need to apologize to you but to myself. It’s not your life that I’m messing up, it’s mine, so I’m saying that change starts with me. I should be the change I wish to see in the world, as a famous man named Mahatma Gandhi once said.

I tried to destroy you a couple of times but you hung on, even if you were almost gone. I never really understood why, but now it’s obvious. It was meant for us to be together. It was said that nothing lasts forever but through the good and bad you always stayed with me. You are my only best friend. I tried to get rid of you and you stayed anyway.

Free Write Jail Arts and Literacy Program C/O Chicago Lights 126 E. Chestnut Street Chicago, Illinois 60611.2014

I could stay outta jail but sometimes I choose not to and I know you’re thinking like why? Well, because the JTDC staff is like family to me. I can actually say I love them. They show me the same love and that I appreciate from them.

It is very hard to be locked up. My mind plays tricks on me and sometimes it feels like I’m still on the bricks. It is very hard to see your family when they come see you because I don’t like for my family to see me like this. It started with my daddy, then to my uncle, and now it’s me. I don’t want it to be you next.

Now it seems like we don’t even last 3 months without a conflict. I love you too much to lose you. I don’t understand why you keep trying to leave me. I understand we have some problems, but we need to find a better way to solve them other than getting separated.

So like two weeks later we went to our little league baseball game. We won 11 to 7, so we went to eat at the house. We ate turkey, macaroni sweet potatoes, two cakes (one chocolate and one vanilla), candied yams, dressing, and greens. My friend, my mom, his mom, his sisters and brothers, my brother and sisters, and I were there. The dinner was so good. The next day my friends and me played a game of piggy. My friend John did not want to play so him and me went to the store and bought some food for the house. He stayed in the house because he was mad at the man that had killed his father. I left and went to my house.

It’s been a long time. We’ve known each other quite a while, but I am tired of our ups and downs. I remember those days when we were closer than salt and pepper.

I’m 14 now and I’ve been doing bad. I don’t want you to go through the same things I’ve been through. I have been in and out of jail and keep committing crimes. I want you to do better than I did. I had guns, I was getting into fights, shooting, getting shot at, selling drugs. When you get to be my age, I just want you to do better than I am. I didn’t go to school that much and when I did go to school I was fighting, getting suspended, or running the halls. Just do better than I did in school. I’m writing this letter to tell you don’t do the same things I did. The things I did could have gotten me killed or in jail for a long time. I was stealing cars a lot, selling drugs at night. When I was 13, one night I was hanging out with the grown people trying to steal a man’s car. He came out and shot me twice in my leg. I thought I was dead. My mom was scared and we prayed to the Lord that I would be able to walk again. He blessed me. I just want you to do better than I did. JTDC is not a place to be. You don’t want a grown man or a grown woman telling you what to do in jail. I need you to do better. At least you can try to do good. I can’t make you change, but by writing this I’m trying to help you to see what may happen to you. I don’t want you to end up in jail. Just promise me you will try to not come in this place. I was young when I did those things that got me locked up. I need you to do the right thing.

I was about that age when I first started getting into the streets. I was disrespecting my family members and doing things wrong. My father got locked up for life for two murders and he used to write me letters and tell me that he didn’t want me to follow in his footsteps. I didn’t want to listen because I liked doing my own thing. I was untouchable about what I was doing. Then, my uncle used to look out for me and give me what I wanted. My mom used to always be at work. She would give me what I wanted but she couldn’t give me everything. Then, my uncle got locked up, and I started doing my own thing. As I got older I was getting that money on the bricks, buying cars and getting that kick back with the girls. Then I really started doing my thing, until I got locked up for an attempted murder. I came to the juvenile detention center. I just want to tell you the streets can take your life away if you are doing the wrong thing.

Free Write Jail Arts and Literacy Magazine

ISSUE #2

Later, John’s mom called my house and said John was gone. I got worried and went over to her house. On the way there, I went passed the store and I saw John with a gun. I saw him arguing with the man who killed his dad. Then I saw him shoot the man seven times until he was dead. My friend John ran home where the police came and got him. He went to the juvenile detention center and then to prison. When he gets out of there, we are going to have too much fun. He is 15 and I am 15.

I have multiple skills such as gymnastics, singing, dancing, and writing poetry. I never thought those kind of things could get me anywhere in life. I never looked at my talents and skills as god given gifts.

Dear Life,

Making it hard to love, every time you think you found the right one. When it’s raining outside and you find yourself alone and happy, but then all that disappears, cause you hear thunder and see lightning. Being alone at home, not having the courage to move from that one spot, because it’s pitch dark and you have no idea what’s going to come out for you to fight. You smell blood, impossible to get away from it, escaping from death and there’s no way to forget. Like fighting with barbed wires in the night, too weak to fight back, numb as a cocaine line.

Growing up I had nothing. My mother wasn’t able to take care of me, and she gave me up to DCFS. I was there for about a month or so and then at 18 months, my biological grandmother came to get my sister and I from foster care and she took us in. Life with grandma wasn’t what I expected it to be but I had to do what I had to do. I always had anger problems from a child to a teen. In school, I was sometimes good and did the work, but most of the time I was always a bad child. I could never concentrate on something when I was distracted by something else. I’ve been given so many chances and I took that for granted.

Dear Me When I Was 13,

Dear Friends,

Larry W.

I am writing you this letter so you can understand some of what I’ve been going through. Some of it is graphic.

The FREE WRITE JAIL Arts and Literacy Program at the Nancy B. Jefferson (NBJ) Alternative School provides individual instruction in print literacy, as well as daily writing and arts workshops for the more than 400 youth incarcerated in the Cook County Juvenile Temporary Detention Center (CCJTDC.) For us, life is a story. The skills our students acquire through the study, critique and creation of poetry and fiction help them to make meaning of their own stories, and to connect with the stories of others.

With love,

Dear Judge,

free write jail arts & literacy Magazine

FREEWRITE2_FORPRINT.indd 1

It’s been a long time. We’ve known each other quite a while, but I am tired of our ups and downs. I remember those days when we were closer than salt and pepper.

I was about that age when I first started getting into the streets. I was disrespecting my family members and doing things wrong. My father got locked up for life for two murders and he used to write me letters and tell me that he didn’t want me to follow in his footsteps. I didn’t want to listen because I liked doing my own thing. I was untouchable about what I was doing. Then, my uncle used to look out for me and give me what I wanted. My mom used to always be at work. She would give me what I wanted but she couldn’t give me everything. Then, my uncle got locked up, and I started doing my own thing. As I got older I was getting that money on the bricks, buying cars and getting that kick back with the girls. Then I really started doing my thing, until I got locked up for an attempted murder. I came to the juvenile detention center. I just want to tell you the streets can take your life away if you are doing the wrong thing.

Dear Life,

Dear Me When I Was 13,

It is very hard to be locked up. My mind plays tricks on me and sometimes it feels like I’m still on the bricks. It is very hard to see your family when they come see you because I don’t like for my family to see me like this. It started with my daddy, then to my uncle, and now it’s me. I don’t want it to be you next.

I could stay outta jail but sometimes I choose not to and I know you’re thinking like why? Well, because the JTDC staff is like family to me. I can actually say I love them. They show me the same love and that I appreciate from them.

Now it seems like we don’t even last 3 months without a conflict. I love you too much to lose you. I don’t understand why you keep trying to leave me. I understand we have some problems, but we need to find a better way to solve them other than getting separated. I tried to destroy you a couple of times but you hung on, even if you were almost gone. I never really understood why, but now it’s obvious. It was meant for us to be together. It was said that nothing lasts forever but through the good and bad you always stayed with me. You are my only best friend. I tried to get rid of you and you stayed anyway. I even thought you weren’t worth my time. Too many times you have made me feel as though I had nothing to look forward to. You put me through depression and aggression. You have showed me things no one could even if they tried. I am so impressed by you. I could get rid of everyone else by doing them wrong but you would never leave my side unless someone or something came and took you away (if you know what I mean.) If it weren’t for you, my daughter wouldn’t be right now. I curse you for all the problems you caused, but praise you for all the blessings and miracles. You’ve made me realize that you are the most important thing with me right now. I need you to survive and I will keep you with me. I need you to help me raise my daughter. If I don’t need anyone else I need you. Love always,

Donika C.

Something I Lost Humberto

The thing I lost, was something without a cost. It was easy to take away, so hard to get back. I think about it every day, what can I do? I was a fool, out doing the worst things. Driving cars without keys. I could have been in for something worse. What I think about is, am I cursed? Everything to me is like a bad dream. They saying I was at the crime scene. They won’t believe me. I wasn’t there, but they don’t care. Someone got shot, so his plot was to point me out just because of hatred. Now I sleep in a different bed. In my head, I think I had to pay for something. The thing I lost, My Freedom. I think this is a break to help me think about my past and start my future,

Dear Michael,

The FREE WRITE JAIL Arts and Literacy Program at the Nancy B. Jefferson (NBJ) Alternative School provides individual instruction in print literacy, as well as daily writing and arts workshops for the more than 400 youth incarcerated in the Cook County Juvenile Temporary Detention Center (CCJTDC.) For us, life is a story. The skills our students acquire through the study, critique and creation of poetry and fiction help them to make meaning of their own stories, and to connect with the stories of others.

Your tax-deductible donation supports arts programming for youth in detention.

Donate online at freewritejailarts.org Or mail checks to: Free Write Jail Arts and Literacy Program Care of Chicago Lights at Fourth Presbyterian Church 126 E. Chestnut Street

Chicago, Illinois 60611.2014

I Am Trying Kenneth L.

I try not to go insane, Stuck in this world with Emotional pain. Trying to stay strong, But this government is Stuck on stupid And that’s wrong. Playing with them will get me Someplace I don’t want to be. I ask God, “Why me?” I didn’t do anything to deserve this cruelty. I think to myself, why won’t this Government leave me alone? I can hardly wait til the day when I get to talk to my mom on the phone. Trying to stay mentally free, But always worried about someone Trying to fight me. When they set me free, I will keep on Having God with me.

FREEWRITEjailarts.org

The juvenile detention center is bogus. The food is nasty and we only get an hour to go outside. Then we wear these nasty old ragged Audy body clothes. Then we have to go to bed at eight o’clock. We only get an hour at visiting time and sometimes we don’t even get that. Then they try to give us fifteen minutes on phone calls and sometimes 30 minutes. Then we only eat 3 times a day. Then when you say something wrong to the staff they try to put you on confinement.

Kieantae J.

A Different Way To Handle Things Marquill P.

Free Write Jail Arts and Literacy Program C/O Chicago Lights 126 E. Chestnut Street Chicago, Illinois 60611.2014

People used to tell me to chill out on the streets, and that I would end up like my father if I kept breaking laws. I know that you probably don’t want to hear what I’m telling you. People used to talk to me the same way I’m talking to you now, but I wasn’t listening to them. I was doing my own thing because I thought that I was un-catch-able. I was going to learn the hard way. Now I wish that I listened to the people who were trying to talk to me.

You’ve known me for about 3 years now (since I was twelve) and you might as well call me your Favorite Girl. Even though you’ve known me for soooo long that doesn’t give me the right to act the way that I’ve been acting. So I know I don’t need to apologize to you but to myself. It’s not your life that I’m messing up, it’s mine, so I’m saying that change starts with me. I should be the change I wish to see in the world, as a famous man named Mahatma Gandhi once said.

Kawana B.

even though I lost My Freedom. When You Got Something Love it Hold it Keep it An Open Letter Cherish it Fernando B. Because it is not always going to be there. One summer, my dad bought me a green, white, and blue mini motorcycle. I left it outside running in front of my house. A man ran past and jumped on. I came outside to finish riding and I didn’t know where it was at. I was mad. I didn’t know where it was. One day, I saw a little boy riding the same kind as mine, but I wasn’t sure if it was mine. So I walked over to him and looked on the side of the bike to see my initials engraved on it. I was mad. I felt like hitting him, but he was a little boy. So I just took it from him. Sometimes, as you can see, revenge is not the way. I explained to him that my initials was on the bike. I could have just came over, pushed him off the bike, and taken it, but I chose to talk with him about it and he understood and gave it to me. I could have hit him But I would have hurt him And the police would have been looking for me Sometimes you can handle it gentle And ask for it back, go to his parents, or hold him until the police get there. To parents: Always keep your receipts!

Dear Friends,

Free Write Jail Arts and Literacy Magazine

A Message to My Younger Self It isn’t as easy as it seems. If you know what I mean . Sleeping behind bars, having real good dreams.

I just wish this time would fly is all you think Not knowing you’ll be home as soon as your eyes blink. “Man you ain’t never leaving,” all the other dudes try to jinx, But then you tell those guys, “My boat is going to float as y’all’s going to sink.”

Hello Family and Peers,

12/14/07 12:27:01 PM

So before you do wrong think about the consequence. Then maybe next time you’ll stay away from nonsense.

ISSUE #2

brings the voices of youth in detention into the conversation about their own lives. This, the second issue of Free Write, is a collection of letters written by youth in detention. In the language of educators, letter writing is a form of “authentic instruction.” It is purposeful writing to a real audience. In the case of our students, it’s a more downto earth matter of keeping tied in to their families and friends on the outside. Letter writing can also be a means to reflect on life. We asked each student to write a letter to their younger selves, giving advice while looking back on the experiences they’ve had growing up. Students also wrote to their parents, judges, and others who have power over their lives. These letters are a window into the concerns and hopes of our young people. Their letters are powerful. Often, they give sage advice to younger people, an insight to those of us who work them. This issue is full of good reminders for all of us; that our kids are precious, unique and that we should hold onto them. As student Marquil P. put it: “When You Got Something/Love it/Hold it/Keep it/Cherish it/ Because it is not always going to be there.” Some students name us their families in these letters. In one letter, a girl admits that she could stay out of jail, but sometimes comes back on purpose because she feels loved here at CCJTDC. The letters express a desire for nurturing and guidance. Our students are figuring out how to be parents, and also how to be children. They dream about their futures and worry about how to find their way. It takes guts to be honest and vulnerable in print. These young writers have shown great courage, daring to reveal themselves and tell very personal stories in a place where such sharing is uncommon. These stories are often hard to read, recounting great losses, and their struggles to find their way out of very violent, scary situations. We see in their letters resilience and strength to survive trauma. Then they go on to make meaning out of these experiences. In these letters, our students share profound insights and reflections on their lives. They want to be known. They give us a rare peek at their inner thoughts, hopes and beliefs. We hope that you will see their open letters as an invitation to dialogue. Their voices are unique, irreplaceable and worth hearing. With high hopes,

Amanda Klonsky and Ryan Keesling Free Write Jail Arts and Literacy Program Nancy B. Jefferson Alternative School

to Myself

I didn’t mean I’m getting ready For it to happen to walk in Like this those bright paths My life that is and when I I didn’t do I know Want my life good things are To go on going to happen The wrong and I know Path but it I will enjoy Did but it my life and Did but every time live it. It does I learn From it And Try to keep Myself from Going to that Dark path. The last time I walked to that Dark spot I Ended up here The juvenile center And while I’m In here I am Trying to change My ways

I would like you to stay in school. Don’t slack off and drop out to sell drugs. Don’t get incarcerated. There are more things in life than being behind bars or on the street corner. Things you make from drug money don’t last long. Things you make the honest way last a lifetime and you don’t have to worry about the FBI looking for you or court cases or getting shot or robbed or killed or worse.

Johnathan D.

Most people, including me, are attracted by cars, clothes, big houses, the most money, fancy shoes, and car rims. However, once you’re dead and gone God doesn’t care who has the most money. All we have to do is listen to what people have to say. My mother always said if you make your bed, you have to lay in it. Your life, you only get one chance to live it. That’s why I do my best to stay out of trouble.

Not knowing if you’re leaving dead or alive You’ve been in this place a couple of times, So your mother cries, But the judge says no more tries. Next step is the Cook County Jail, you shouldn’t be surprised.

A lot of people are guilty, but many people are not. It’s our word against the State and they have more rank than we do. Once the judge says it’s a done deal, we go home or to the department of corrections. There are also lots of police that put drugs on you and want to get you off the streets even if you don’t do anything. It’s our word against theirs. The government always has the upper hand. Millions of people in the county are not guilty, but many of them spend life in jail with no parole. Some will kill themselves. Some just wait till God calls them home.

Thinking about when you were on the bricks Saying, “Man, this smell makes me sick.” Now you say, “I want to go home,” but you don’t have the pick Out there with the older guys trying to be slick.

When I get out of this jam I will try very hard to set an example for my sister, and cousins so they wont go through what I am going through. My family is my life. It took me a while to see that. I want you to finish high school and go to college. Without that you’re just another victim of the industry, trying to get a job at Burger King to feed your family and pay bills. Love,

free write jail arts & literacy Magazine

Dear Judge, I am writing you this letter so you can understand some of what I’ve been going through. Some of it is graphic. Growing up I had nothing. My mother wasn’t able to take care of me, and she gave me up to DCFS. I was there for about a month or so and then at 18 months, my biological grandmother came to get my sister and I from foster care and she took us in. Life with grandma wasn’t what I expected it to be but I had to do what I had to do. I always had anger problems from a child to a teen. In school, I was sometimes good and did the work, but most of the time I was always a bad child. I could never concentrate on something when I was distracted by something else. I’ve been given so many chances and I took that for granted. I have multiple skills such as gymnastics, singing, dancing, and writing poetry. I never thought those kind of things could get me anywhere in life. I never looked at my talents and skills as god given gifts.

It’s not too late for you to stop doing what you’re doing. Please don’t do stupid things because it will come back on you. You will be sitting here fighting a case like me, wishing that you would have listened to me. I really want to tell you that you could get your life taken by being on the streets, by being killed or by getting lockup.

I have been reading a lot of books during my time in the juvenile center and also in D.O.C. I have a lot of talents but I waste them. I ask myself why this is happening to me, and then I remember that I wasn’t the only one God gave a hard life to. I have to make my life better. To make it in life I understand that we have to make hard sacrifices. My biggest dreams are to become a famous gymnast, get married, and have like 10 kids. I love babies like it ain’t nothing. I want to own a day care center some day. I will call it Lots Of Love Day Care. I want it to open at 6 am and close at about 8 pm. I want my day care to be open to all kinds of kids. I just love kids. Sometimes I dream and wish that I could have my childhood back. I was always too busy worrying about things I shouldn’t have had to worry about. I’m going to start loving me for me and stop living in the past. I don’t want to live a thug life. I’d rather live my life, and live it right. So today I want to say thank you for giving me a clearer vision of my life. If it wasn’t for you I’d probably be dead by now. I really look up to you. Once again, thank you. Sincerely, P.S. Please tell my mother I said that I forgive her for everything she’s done to me. I want my mother to know I don’t blame her for putting me in this situation. I blame myself, and its time for me to grow up. I know that our problem was we were too much alike, but I am realizing that could be a good thing. I know that I need to stop blaming her and that’s exactly what I did. In three more years and I’ll be on my own. She’s preparing me for the world and I’m going to be okay, I really am. So I love you mama. And thank you. From her Daughter, Kawana.

Dear Little Antonio, When you were coming up you were doing what was right. But then something changed because you were around the wrong people. I would like you to be more respectful and go to school. Stay away from the wrong people. Don’t sell drugs on the block and run from the cops. Your moms tells you, “Whatever you need, I give it to you, long as you be in school and not out there with guns. You only got one life, so don’t let the streets take it away from you. Everybody going to miss you if you be locked up. It’s not cool being behind bars. You need to be somewhere driving a car. Be somebody in life, not out there killing people for no reason. I want you to get a job and a lady.” I know people that think smoking weed or other drugs is cool, but it’s not. It kills your brain and you can die from that. Be the one in school who is more successful. My people never told me that, so that’s why I’m taking the time to tell you. When I was 7, no one ever told me any advice about staying out of trouble. It’s like people from off the street, they always used to tell me be more of a man and tell the truth. Never lie. Lying makes you less of a man. One time I got jumped on really bad and there wasn’t anyone to help me. I was really thinking about hurting the people who jumped on me, but I had to think about my actions because those boys had guns. I’m not about to lose my life over nothing because I got a family. My grandma was there every time I got hurt. That’s why I love her so much. Now when I got locked up I know she don’t like that my moms never was there. But I still love my mom. When they kick me out of school my mama tried her best to get me back in there. She told me, “Don’t let no one disrespect you because they got to show you respect to get it.” I was a bad kid growing up but I’m realizing the stuff I did ain’t cool. Now look at me. I’m 14 years young getting locked up and shot at. I want to live my life. I can’t let no one take it from me. You should not let anyone take your life away from you.

With love, I’m 14 now and I’ve been doing bad. I don’t want you to go through the same things I’ve been through. I have been in and out of jail and keep committing crimes. I want you to do better than I did. I had guns, I was getting into fights, shooting, getting shot at, selling drugs. When you get to be my age, I just want you to do better than I am. I didn’t go to school that much and when I did go to school I was fighting, getting suspended, or running the halls. Just do better than I did in school. I’m writing this letter to tell you don’t do the same things I did. The things I did could have gotten me killed or in jail for a long time. I was stealing cars a lot, selling drugs at night. When I was 13, one night I was hanging out with the grown people trying to steal a man’s car. He came out and shot me twice in my leg. I thought I was dead. My mom was scared and we prayed to the Lord that I would be able to walk again. He blessed me. I just want you to do better than I did. JTDC is not a place to be. You don’t want a grown man or a grown woman telling you what to do in jail. I need you to do better. At least you can try to do good. I can’t make you change, but by writing this I’m trying to help you to see what may happen to you. I don’t want you to end up in jail. Just promise me you will try to not come in this place. I was young when I did those things that got me locked up. I need you to do the right thing.

Dear Little Larry,

Michael

Making it hard to love, every time you think you found the right one. When it’s raining outside and you find yourself alone and happy, but then all that disappears, cause you hear thunder and see lightning. Being alone at home, not having the courage to move from that one spot, because it’s pitch dark and you have no idea what’s going to come out for you to fight. You smell blood, impossible to get away from it, escaping from death and there’s no way to forget. Like fighting with barbed wires in the night, too weak to fight back, numb as a cocaine line.

Martha J.

Fear

Rest In Peace Lil’ Bro 1989-2004 He died in my arms, and things just started to fall apart right then and there. This brother of mine is half of me. He’s my twin, and now, a part of me is gone. I said “Nothing, do you mean what did your son do?” Now there was just blood and yelling everywhere, I didn’t know what to do but cry.

Ashley D. Sincerely, My emotions are pretty rough, but I will make it through life. I hope one day my kids will understand that I love them no matter what happens. I didn’t know how much it hurt until I got my phone call and heard my little girl’s voice saying, “Mommy, when are you coming home?” It’s hard being pregnant in jail, and just knowing that things are not going to get easier for me. Every day I wake up and things are the same, nothing changes, and I can’t do what I want to do in here. People talked down on me then, and I really didn’t have anyone to count on but my mommy and my boyfriend. That’s why I don’t talk about her much. Really, I don’t know what to do. My boyfriend is my only support, but I need more and it’s hard for me to get to where I need to be. I worry about the damage that could happen between now and when the babies are born. My biggest worry is what I am going to do about money. Yeah, I’m still in school, but I need a job to fall back on so that I can keep clothes on their backs. I have a little girl at home and I call her ladybug. She is a beautiful little girl. It’s hard to be locked up without her. I don’t talk about her because I’m ashamed about what other people would say. I’m pregnant with two more and that is a bad taste in people’s mouths. Don’t get me misunderstood, she is a beautiful little girl, and I love her, but it’s hard to talk about her. When I was pregnant with her I was in tenth grade, just coming out of the ninth grade. I was fifteen years of age, and it was hard to go to school pregnant. My name is Ashley and I am 18 years of age and pregnant with twins. Yeah, it’s fun, but I’m locked up with no hope of finding a way of getting out of here. Being pregnant is hard because there are so many emotions. It is hard to express my feelings to others. It’s very depressing, and even more depressing because I’m in this crazy place.

Antonio J.

cover artwork: OSVALDO C.

Witness to Violence and Murder

So I went back to help him up, just thinking he tripped or something- but still I didn’t know what was really going on. Then I saw blood everywhere. I was thinking “what the f*** is going on? What am I going to do now? He’s shot.” And then I realized that I was shot too. So I go to pick him up, and go home. When I made it there, and walked through the door, my mom just got to yelling at me, talking about “what the f*** did I do?” One day my brother and me were walking home from school, as we did all the time. It was these boys that I didn’t know too well but he knew them, so they were just looking. We had done something very bad to them. So they walked and walked until they got to the same spot where we were. So then he and my brother just got to passing words back to each other. Me being f*** it it’s not worth this bull****t.” So we start to walk again, and out of nowhere I heard shots coming passed us. So we started to run like we never did before. Now my heart was beating real fast, and I was looking everywhere, but then I realized I was running alone. I stopped and looked back to see if I could see my brother, and there he was, on the ground, not knowing what was going on.

Anonymous Girl

Remembering My Brother’s Death

Love Always,

Larry W. Later, John’s mom called my house and said John was gone. I got worried and went over to her house. On the way there, I went passed the store and I saw John with a gun. I saw him arguing with the man who killed his dad. Then I saw him shoot the man seven times until he was dead. My friend John ran home where the police came and got him. He went to the juvenile detention center and then to prison. When he gets out of there, we are going to have too much fun. He is 15 and I am 15. So like two weeks later we went to our little league baseball game. We won 11 to 7, so we went to eat at the house. We ate turkey, macaroni sweet potatoes, two cakes (one chocolate and one vanilla), candied yams, dressing, and greens. My friend, my mom, his mom, his sisters and brothers, my brother and sisters, and I were there. The dinner was so good. The next day my friends and me played a game of piggy. My friend John did not want to play so him and me went to the store and bought some food for the house. He stayed in the house because he was mad at the man that had killed his father. I left and went to my house. We we were living in the projects on 49TH and State Street. One day I was going to the store on 49th and State St. There were two men approaching the store. One of the men struck the other man with his fist, and then proceeded to take shots at the victim. This act of violence led to the victim’s death. Witnessing this brutal incident made me quite sad. The next day one of my best friends named John told about this incident. The man murdered was his father. I attended the funeral. My mother cooked much food for the deceased man’s family. My friend and I shared the day’s activities together.