MyTimeToBlog
My incarcerated brethren and I have our tragic tales of what led us to prison. We also have how we became more than our worst. Now mine isn't some heartfelt story, because in prison, you gotta swim through the muck to reach a place of change. Sadly, that's where my story begins.
I used to work as a chow hall worker, Friday thru Sunday, 3:00 AM to 3:00 PM. I enjoyed the job because it kept me around the prison population all day. Now when my job ended, I was in a shower, then my bunk, praying for a good movie. Well, that night I had Four Brothers coming on TNT. I've never seen it before, and I'm ear to ear with joy that I'll be able to watch it in peace.
Now as the movie started, my celly and three other men ventured into our cell during cell break (this is where the booth officer opens the cell's door for five minutes, every hour). I'm in bed wearing only my boxers, watching a movie that took me out of prison for two hours. As it was, my celly and his friends were loud. I'm trying to hear my TV, but they're going in on whatever they are talking about. So, I snapped and said, "Shut the f#%k up!"
Honestly, during this stage of my incarceration, I was an angry kid with mood swings like the wind. This became problematic for all because I didn't care if I lived or died. So, EVERYBODY stayed out my way.
One guy up and ran because of my reputation. Q didn't run, he instead replied, "You don't have to say it like that."
I'm off my bunk, asking aggressively, "How am I supposed to say it then?"
Q waved me off and said, "I'll holler at you later."
Now unbeknownst to him, and many others, I had two attempts on my life by incarcerated men when I was in Wallen Ridge State Prison. Since then, I never let anybody walk away during a verbal altercation. So, I stepped on the tier with him and got up in his face. There were numerous men heading in and out their cell, but all that stopped when they saw me up in Q's face with only my boxers on. I didn't hesitate when he tried speaking, because past traumas of prison life made me violent.
We started fighting right there on the tier. I manhandled him because I was in better shape, and had at least fifty pounds more weight. Our fight carried into his cell, ironically next door to mine. The booth officer didn't see the fight, because the doors were closing. We were in a one-on-one fight, locked in his cell for another hour.
As the fight ensued, out of nowhere, Q said, "I'm not trying to fight you." That surprised me. It did. What he said registered with me, giving me clarity on how stupid I was.
You see, Q and I were cool. We laughed, talked about life, and his children he desired to be a father to. All that hit me at once, and in my shame, I dropped to my knees and mumbled, "I don't know how to do my time."
Q replied, "I don't know what to tell you, because I go home in six months."
I felt alone. I'm a man with multiple life sentences and had somebody saying he couldn't help me. I began crying. As I did, Q asked, "I can't let go of what you did. I want to fight you again...but if I say stop, stop."
I brushed away the tears and we fought again. This time, I broke my finger. When it was all said and done, Black Hand came to the cell and ordered me down to the day room to talk. When the next cell break arrived, I headed to my cell, dressed, then marched myself downstairs to the table with Black Hand, Ju-Ju, and Ice; their combined time of incarceration was 100 years behind the wall.
These were some serious men who had enough of my nonsense. They admonished me for being a constant problem that EVERYBODY grew sick of. They even warned me that somebody would kill me if I didn't get my act together. You know what I did when they said that? I laughed, saying, "What, you want me to go to school now? I have life."
My mind was molded by violence. This was 2008, my tenth year of incarceration. I didn't take any educational programs, spoke with mental health, nor did I care to. I HAVE LIFE IN PRISON. Even as I did, three men cared enough to wake me up that day. I'll never forget what Ice told me: "You love comics so much, use that as a creative outlet and write one."
Me, write a book. I won't lie, that remained with me as I departed from them. I sat on my bunk, never seeing the ending of Four Brothers, but thinking about my way of living. I was on a short bus to an early grave because I was mad at everybody, but myself. Those thoughts that turned my life into a living hell finally came out with a pen and paper. For a solid year, I crafted one of the most insane prison stories in the world: The Other Side of The Fence.
That book sits in my locker, never seeing the light of day. Why? It's my reminder of where I was at mentally. Why I couldn't stop carrying this anger that placed me in a cage. It was my story of all that I had seen as I struggled through the muck, finally coming out on the other side, finding that I needed help. Help that I was willing to accept.
This is my origin story of how it all started for me. I'm not proud of what I did that day, but what I am proud of was that I nurtured that seed those three men planted in me. I let it grow me into a man who wishes to apologize to Q and many other men that I disrespected along my journey. It's 2024 and that boy who carried all that pain finally received the help he so needed. That's why I can take a breath and look at how far I've come.
What's your origin story?