MyTimeToBlog
I've had plenty of incarcerated men handing me advice on doing time. Some gave me insight on surviving this insanity with insanity. Being young, scared, and blind to the reality that I was being thrust into, I took what I learned and thought what I had, worked.
You see, I received advice from a guy calling himself Monster. He was this street kid from Washington DC. We became cellies in Northern Neck Regional Jail's Maximum-Security Unit. There I learned he was waiting on either the death penalty or life in prison. I saw him as an ally in our shared destruction of our young lives.
One day we were in our cell. I lied on my bunk, my face facing the wall when Ant strolled in. He said, "Tut, stop having your ass on display." I shifted my position, thinking he was right. Back then I was a baby in a world foreign to me. Well, when he departed, Monster snapped. "Don't accept that nonsense. The next time someone comes at you with that craziness, shut it down immediately. Prison is real. They see you as weak, you'll end up with a boyfriend and a sore ass."
I took it all in, and responded with one word: "OK." My head filled with so many images of my being sexually assaulted. I swear I was so scared that I used to cry about heading into a prison. I watched all the penitentiary movies of yesteryear, and none of them told me I was tough enough. While dwelling on my upcoming transfer Monster told me to look down to him. I did, and what I saw was his penis out, exposed for me to see.
I have never been so angry in my life. I flipped out, tossing so many vulgarities at him. He said, "That's what I mean about letting them know you have a backbone." He exposed himself to see if I would speak my mind. This was his way of making me prepared for what was to come. I freaked out all the more because if this was my introduction to prison, God help me.
The trauma I carried with me into prison screwed me up mentally. I had no compass. I took that madness with me to Buckingham Correction Center. My mood swings came more and more as I had one negative confrontation after the next. I didn't know how to speak my mind, just anger being spewed from my tender lips.
A Richmond kid disrespected me over my crimes one day. He said some silliness from behind the cell's door. I stepped to him as soon as the doors opened, on the tier, not willing to back down. He saw this and apologized for disrespecting me. You're thinking that what I did was good. I'm protecting myself. Nah, I was creating more problems for me.
The trauma of what Monster did took me somewhere dark. I learned from a kid who assumed that was the way to tutor me. It wasn't. I say this because I created a false persona that made me more foes than friends because I was always aggressive.
My second mentor was Zo. He scalped a man back in the day at Greenville Correction Center. He was aggressive, and had a motto: "Stand for something or fall for anything." He planted that seed in my young mind, and I ran with it for years. I did this because he had respect, and wasn't afraid to fight.
Again, a young kid not having a compass absorbed his teachings and departed into a Supermax prison ready to die. I used to rub my face before exiting my cell, placing on this proverbial mask; creating this persona that could deal with the madness. This made me have problem after problem.
I didn't know how to speak my mind without aggression. This became my way, and when I ran into Mike, he imparted more BS: "When playing basketball, act like you're fighting your opponent." He had me on Red Onion State Prison bullying anybody under the rim. That led me and this brother to become violent towards one another as we fought for a rebound.
I made enemies out of poor teachings. I'm fortunate that I survived. Honestly, in the early 2000s incarcerated men were being wiped out by violence that most could not believe, or conceive. But there I was in the midst of it, being a young brute who thought what I was doing was appropriate.
When I escaped these so-called men, I was in shambles. I didn't know how to think until I met James Syed. An instructor for Sussex One State Prison's Custodial Maintenance. He gave me this life-changing speech about being a man in prison, not an inmate. His words resonated with me so much so that the following day I did an impromptu interview for a job as an aide. I brought along all the novels I wrote, and cover art for them. We discussed what I wanted out of life, and how to attain it with hard work. I impressed him and was offered the job on the spot.
As my time with Mr. Syed came to a close, I learned to speak without malice. To let those around me see me as the man I could be without being overt in my aggression. Everything changed because of my recognition of what a man looked and acted like. I miss my friend. He saved my life. He gave me so much more than I can put into words. Thank you, Mr., Syed for saving me. I don't know where I would be without your caring heart.
This world known as prison can chew you up, and spew something out unimaginable. I'm grateful I disposed of those teachings from so-called men who sent me off into madness with madness. It took years to break free because when you're around the worst, that's all you can see. I'm grateful that a man came into my life, and I listened to him because this story could've ended far worse than what I shared with you.