Live or Die Tryin' E-Book

YAHKHAHNAHN AMMI

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Serie: LIVE OR DIE TRYIN' BOOK SERIES
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 477

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

In "Live or Die Tryin': My Journey to Freedom, Forgiveness and Healing is a true story of a man's journey to freedom, forgiveness, and healing after surviving a 16-Year Prison Sentence," author Yahkhahnahn Ammi, an activist, continues his captivating memoir series. This profound and inspiring account explores themes of resilience, transformation, and redemption. Sentenced to a sixteen-year term by the Illinois Department of Corrections (IDOC), Ammi's story stands out as one of the most shocking and inspiring tales of survival in 21st-century America. It chronicles his profound personal evolution, overcoming staggering odds from prison to earning a Ph.D. Ammi's journey is also fueled by his passions for promoting literacy to youth and advocating for social justice, adding depth and purpose to his remarkable story.

Ammi's journey begins within the stark confines of prison, where he undergoes a profound internal transformation that leads him to a spiritual rebirth. As he navigates the challenges of incarceration, Ammi discovers a newfound sense of purpose and determination to not only survive but thrive. His story is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the power of hope in the darkest of circumstances.

Upon his release, Ammi faces the harsh realities of homelessness, yet he refuses to be defined by his circumstances. With unwavering resolve, he embarks on a quest for education, ultimately achieving the remarkable feat of earning a Ph.D. Despite the immense challenges he faces, Ammi's unwavering commitment to freedom, forgiveness, and healing shines through in every page.

"Live or Die Tryin' 3: A True Story of a Man's Journey to Freedom, Forgiveness, and Healing After Surviving a 16-Year Prison Sentence" is more than a memoir-it's a testament to the power of the human spirit to overcome adversity and emerge stronger on the other side. Ammi's story serves as an inspiration to all who have faced seemingly insurmountable challenges, reminding us that with faith, determination, and perseverance, anything is possible.

Join Yahkhahnahn Ammi on his remarkable journey from the depths of despair to the pinnacle of academic achievement in "Live or Die Tryin': A True Story of a Man's Journey to Freedom, Forgiveness, and Healing After Surviving a 16-Year Prison Sentence." His story will leave you inspired, uplifted, and believing in the power of redemption.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Full-TitleDedicationEpigraphForewordPrefaceAcknowledgementsPrologueIntroductionChapter 1: Family ReunionChapter 2: Take Me Out to the BallgameChapter 3: Why Did I Get Married?Chapter 4: The Birth of a NationChapter 5: I Had a DreamChapter 6: PTSD & ResilienceChapter 7: Ms. ContagiousChapter 8: The ArgumentChapter 9: Betrayal & Legal BattlesChapter 10: Divorce, Custody, and VisitationChapter 11: Single FatherhoodChapter 12: Police Violence & Public HealthChapter 13: Momma’s Baby, Daddy’s MaybeChapter 14: The AltercationChapter 15: Bitter Baby MamaChapter 16: Kansas City, Uber DriverChapter 17: Money, Power & Light DistrictChapter 18: The Client: Taken and RescuedChapter 19: Misunderstandings and ReconciliationChapter 20: The Conversation and The AccusationChapter 21: Confessions of an Uber DriverChapter 22: The ConspiracyChapter 23: Shadows of Custody (St. Louis City Courts)Chapter 24: Devastating FalloutChapter 25: Blackmail, Black Male: A Letter To My ExesChapter 26: Homelessness to Higher EducationChapter 27: Keep Ya Head UpChapter 28: 9/11 Chaos and HeartacheEpilogueResources and Further ReadingsAbout The AuthorBook Reviews

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my mother for her endless love and my dear children; may you always know the truth, and that I will always love you. To victims of sex and human trafficking—may justice find you. To those lost to suicide due to abuse—you are not forgotten. To survivors of assault—keep fighting, you matter. Parents, love your children by listening and supporting them. To those who doubted or supported me, you’ve shaped me. This is for all of us—a testament to resilience.

Epigraph

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of convenience and comfort, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”

-Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Foreword

It is with great pleasure that I introduce “Live or Die Tryin’” Book III, by Yahkhahnahn Ammi. In this compelling memoir, Yahkhahnahn takes us on a deeply personal journey through his life, highlighting his passion for social justice, community leadership, literacy advocacy among youth, and raising awareness for mental health.

As a dedicated activist, Yahkhahnahn hosts several podcasts and online radio shows focused on healing from childhood and relationship trauma, as well as the importance of mental health awareness. Through his writing, he shares the importance of seeking professional counselors or therapists to address mental health concerns, encouraging others to prioritize their well-being.

“Live or Die Tryin’” Book III is more than just a memoir; it is a call to action. Yahkhahnahn’s words inspire us to confront our own challenges, seek help when needed, and advocate for mental health awareness in our communities. His message of compassion, understanding, and perseverance is a beacon of hope for all who have struggled with mental health issues.

I am confident that this book will resonate with readers from all walks of life. Yahkhahnahn’s message is a powerful reminder of the importance of taking care of our mental health and supporting others in their journey to wellness. May his words inspire you to join him in his mission to create a more compassionate and understanding world for all.

This is a pivotal time of change in the world, and life as we know it is being threatened from all sides. We are forced to reassess our values and decide whether to succumb to the darkness or live in the light. We must focus on healing, not just treatment. Yahkhahnahn offers a world of healing and makes wellness the foundation of our lives. Mentally, physically, and socially, we need to heal. His memoir is an offering that should not be ignored.

-Abiodun Oyewole The Last Poets

Preface

About The Name

In this book, you’ll notice that I refer to myself as “Yahkhahnahn Ammi”— which means ‘God is compassionate and merciful’ in Hebrew. This name holds deep spiritual significance, not an alias. This name, bestowed upon me by my spiritual leader at that time, Rahbee Ben Ammi, symbolizes a profound journey of transformation and reclamation of identity. Born as Perrie (Par-ree) Daniell Gibson, I was given what many individuals of African descent recognize as a slave name. At the age of 18, I made a conscious decision to embrace the Hebrew or Judaic way of life, shedding my birth name publicly and fully embodying the spiritual path laid before me. Yet, within the privacy of my family and loved ones, I remained known as and called by my birth name.

The names of others in this book have been changed to protect the identities of both the guilty and the innocent. However, the name I carry now stands as a testament to my rebirth—a symbolic act of defiance against the traumas inflicted upon me by abusers and conspirators. It was a crucial step in my healing—a way to rise from the fire and ashes of my past and recreate myself with purpose and power. In a community that honored every man of African descent as “King” and every woman as “Queen,” I adopted the name Kingya (King Yah), a fusion of my initials Y and A, signifying Yah and Ammi. (Kingya: A soul destined to rise, embodying the divine strength and resilience to overcome life’s trials and ascend after every fall).

This name is not merely a title; it is an affirmation of my identity, resilience, and spiritual journey. As you continue reading, you’ll come to understand the depth of this transformation and why embracing a new identity was not just a choice, but a vital act of survival and empowerment.

Trigger Warning

This book contains sensitive material relating to:

Trauma

Grief Rape

Race Relations

Human Rights

Social Justice

Black Nationalism

Characters

The individuals depicted in the story are actual people, though their names and personal information have been excluded. Fictitious information has been inserted for privacy, but this is my truth. As an American revolutionary, my identity as a melanated nationalist has always been more than just a political stance—it is a calling, a mission, rooted in the liberation of oppressed melanated people. My belief in the principles of human rights and Black Nationalism, or as I prefer to call it, Melanated Nationalism, has been the guiding force behind my life’s work.

Acknowledgements

Writing this memoir has been a journey of reflection, healing, and growth, and I could not have completed it without the love, support, and encouragement of many.

First, to my mother, whose unconditional love and strength have been my guiding light. You have shown me what it means to be resilient in the face of adversity, and for that, I am forever grateful. Your belief in me, even when I doubted myself, gave me the courage to share my truth.

To my children, who inspire me daily to be the best version of me. You are my greatest joys and my deepest motivations. This story is as much for you as it is for me. May it remind you always to seek truth, stand in your own light, and know that you are loved beyond measure.

In loving memory of my late grandmother, Jacqueline E. Mitchell (“Mama Jackie”), whose wisdom, kindness, and love continue to guide me even though she is no longer physically here. “Mama”, you were my anchor, and I miss you every day. It has been two years since I lost you, but your spirit lives on in every word of this book. This memoir is a testament to the strength and grace you embodied.

To my late sister, April L. Riley, who was taken from us far too soon at the tender age of 35 by stage four pancreatic cancer. April, you were a beacon of light and love, and not a day goes by that I don’t think of you. You didn’t get the chance to see the publication of this book, but your strength and courage are woven into its pages. This work is a tribute to your life, your fight, and the love we shared. I miss you more than words can express.

As a youth advocate promoting literacy and education through the Read, Speak, and Grow Rich program, I am deeply grateful to those who inspire and support this mission. To Amanda S. C. Gorman, an American poet, activist, and model, thank you for your unwavering commitment to our youth. Your voice and dedication have brought hope and empowerment to the next generation.

To the victims and survivors of sex and human trafficking, this book is a testament to your courage. May your voices be heard and your stories recognized. You are warriors, and I dedicate this work in part to you, in the hope that justice and healing find their way into your lives.

To those who have been lost to suicide as a result of abuse, you are not forgotten. Your pain, though silent now, is not erased. I hold you in my heart, and this book honors the battles you fought in silence.

To survivors of abuse, both mental and physical, who continue to fight daily battles, your strength is extraordinary. You are loved, you matter, and your fight is a testament to the human spirit’s resilience.

I also want to acknowledge those who have been falsely accused of sexual assault or rape. The weight of such accusations can be devastating, and your struggle is a reminder that justice and truth must be sought for all. My thoughts are with you as you navigate this difficult path.

To my friends and family, who have stood by me through this process, thank you for your patience, your love, and your unwavering support. Whether you cheered me on or provided a listening ear, I owe you my deepest gratitude.

To those who doubted me or prayed for my failure, your doubts fueled my determination to rise above. You too have played a role in shaping the person I am today, and for that, I thank you.

Finally, to the women and men who have lifted me up, shared their wisdom, and believed in me when it felt like no one else did—this book exists because of you. Your inspiration has given me the strength to turn pain into purpose, and I will carry your influence with me always.

This memoir by spiritual incidence is a tribute to resilience, survival, and the power of the human spirit. To everyone who has walked with me on this journey, whether through support or challenge—this is for all of us.

With love and gratitude,

Yahkhahnahn Ammi

Prologue

An Ode to Ending Parental Alienation

To parents, I call, both gentle and grand,

Our children seek the warmth of your hand.

In love and understanding, let them stand,

Nurtured by heart, in this vast land.

To the women and men in my life’s story,

Your doubts and support, both shadow and glory,

Have shaped me, in all my complexity,

Guided by your presence, through life’s tapestry.

This verse unfolds as a declaration,

A plea for unity, an end to separation.

For in resilience, we find our liberation,

And celebrate the spirit’s dedication.

Parental love, let it not be divided,

For in its fullness, children are guided.

End the alienation, the silent wall,

For together, we rise and stand tall.

Together, we embrace this shared journey,

Inscribed in this ode, a pledge to harmony.

Let no rift rob a child of their grace,

No bitterness clouds their tender face.

In unity, may families heal and grow,

In the light of love, let true bonds show.

So here’s to us, in unity and clarity,

Crafted by trials, with sincerity.

Introduction

This struggle for freedom, equity, dignity, and equality is not just a distant ideal; it is a personal battle, fought every day in the face of systemic oppression and deep-seated racism. From the moment I embraced this cause, I knew the path would be fraught with challenges. But my commitment has never wavered. Each act of resistance, each effort to uplift my community, is driven by an unwavering belief in our right to self-determination. The fight for our freedom is not just a political struggle—it is a fight for our very existence, for our right to live with dignity, free from the chains of oppression.

Being at the forefront of this struggle means carrying the weight of generations of pain and resilience. It means standing firm in the face of adversity, knowing that the liberation of our people is both a personal responsibility and a collective mission. The stakes are high, but so is the reward: a future where melanated people can live freely, without fear, in a society that truly values our contributions and humanity.

In this battle, I have found my purpose—a purpose that transcends the political and touches the very core of who I am. It is a purpose that drives me to continue the fight, to inspire others to rise up, and to never, ever, surrender to the forces that seek to keep us down. But with this commitment comes a heavy price—one that I’ve paid through the constant and calculated efforts of those who seek to silence, discredit, and ultimately destroy me. In the words of Bryan Allen, I have faced the “Four D’s” head-on: Dismiss, Discredit, Demonize, and Destroy. I emphasize Cancel Culture.

1. Dismissed: The Politics of Cancel Culture

The first attack I encountered was the tactic of dismissal, a tool sharpened by the blade of cancel culture. The moment I began to speak out against the systemic oppression of Black people, those in power—and even some within our own community—sought to silence me. They labeled my ideas as “radical” “anti-police” or “extreme,” attempting to paint me as an outlier, someone whose views were too dangerous to be taken seriously. The more I spoke the truth, the more they worked to cancel my voice, erasing my contributions from the conversation, Ferguson Unrest history, and diminishing the impact of my work.

In many ways, this dismissal was the easiest for them to achieve. By casting me as a fringe element, they hoped to marginalize my influence and make my message disappear. But I refused to be silenced, and I continued to push forward, even as the doors of opportunity were shut in my face, and my voice was systematically excluded from the platforms where it was needed most.

2. Discredit: Undermining the Messenger

As my voice grew louder, so did the efforts to discredit me. The second tactic they employed was to attack my credibility, to paint me as a hypocrite, a rapist, a murderer and a fraud. They dredged up every mistake I had ever made, twisting my past felony conviction as a minor to fit their narrative. They questioned my integrity, my motives, and even my sanity, all in an effort to make me seem less trustworthy in the eyes of the people I was trying to reach.

The media played a significant role in this, running stories that were skewed and biased, labeling me a rapist, a felon, a woman beater all designed to cast doubt on my character. They interviewed people who barely knew me, who were more than willing to speak ill of me for their own gain. They turned my personal struggles into public spectacles, all to convince the world that I wasn’t the leader or the activist I claimed to be. Despite these attacks, I remained steadfast, knowing that the truth would eventually prevail.

3. Demonize: Turning the Activist into the Enemy

When discrediting me wasn’t enough to halt my momentum, the next step was to demonize me. They began to portray me as the enemy, someone who was not just wrong, but a dangerous felon. My words were twisted, my intentions distorted, until I was no longer seen as a voice for justice, but as a threat to society. They called me a “felon,” a “militant,” even a “rapist”—labels meant to instill fear in those who might otherwise have supported me.

This demonization was perhaps the most painful to endure because it targeted not just my message, but my very identity. It sought to turn the people I was fighting for against me, to make them believe that I was the problem rather than the solution. But even as they painted me as a villain, I knew that my fight was just, and I refused to let their lies define me.

4. Destroy: Attempts to End It All

Finally, when all else failed, they sought to destroy me. The ultimate goal of those who oppose revolutionary change is to eliminate the threat entirely, and they were willing to go to any lengths to make that happen. I faced threats to my life, attempts to ruin my livelihood, and efforts to break my spirit. The weight of these attacks was heavy, and there were moments when I wondered if I could continue.

But I also knew that these attempts to destroy me were proof that I was on the right path. The more they tried to kill my spirit, the more determined I became to fight back. I knew that if they succeeded in silencing me, it would only embolden them to do the same to others. So I stood tall, even when the world seemed to be crumbling around me, because I knew that the struggle for liberation is worth any price.

The Struggle Continues

The “Four D’s” may have been their strategy, but they were also the measure of my resolve. Every time they tried to dismiss, discredit, demonize, destroy or cancel me, I found within me a deeper well of strength and determination. My journey has been one of relentless perseverance, and I share this not as a tale of victimhood, but as a testament to the power of resistance. I am still here, still fighting, because I fear no one but God. I am an unbreakable spirit and the cause of so-called Black or Melanated liberation is too important to abandon.

For those who seek justice, who fight for the oppressed, know that these tactics will be used against you too. But also know that you are not alone. We stand together, and as long as we do, we cannot be defeated. The struggle continues, and so does the fight for our freedom.

I never thought I would make it to live this long. It is only by the grace and mercy of God. My spiritual name is Yahkhahnahn Ammi. I am the author of a three-book series entitled Live or Die Tryin’ Book Three. I was reborn in Statesville prison. In isolation confinement to be exact, or what fellow prisoners call, “The Hole,” for three years. Sentenced to serve a 16-year prison sentence. I was transferred to this maximum prison for breaking the prison rules at a prior prison, and I was sent there for my eighteenth birthday out of retaliation to the Illinois Department of Corrections at the Statesville Correctional Center in 1999 located in Joliet, Illinois.

Over the past 30 years, I’ve lived a life marked by profound challenges, indomitable resilience, and an unwavering quest for justice. This memoir, Live or Die Tryin’ Book III, is the culmination of my journey—a journey that has taken me from the neighborhoods of Brooklyn, Illinois, through the harsh confines of the Illinois Department of Corrections, to the forefront of the civil rights and Ferguson movements. In this third installment of my memoir, I recount the experiences that have shaped me as an aboriginal/melanated, or so-called African American/Black man in the United States. My story is a tapestry woven with threads of personal struggle, systemic oppression, relationship trauma, and relentless activism. It is a story of a man and natural leader who refused to be broken by the forces of injustice and revenge and who instead transformed his pain into a powerful call for change.

In Live or Die Tryin’ Book III, you will walk with me through five main narratives:

*Trials and Tribulations with the American Legal System.

*My false arrest based on accusations of sexual assault and domestic violence.

*Losing custody of my children due to these false allegations and my juvenile record from over twenty years ago.

*The fight for my freedom and justice.

*Career opportunities and my right to travel taken away.

Reflections on the oppressive nature of the American legal and political systems. Throughout this memoir, I detail my involvement in the civil rights and Ferguson movements, shedding light on the internal conflicts and external pressures that defined these pivotal moments.

You will read about the challenges I faced as an aboriginal or so-called Black activist and founder of the Black Lives Matter Inc., organization in Missouri and the efforts by law enforcement and political adversaries to dismantle my advocacy work.

I am driven by a profound desire to share my story not just as a personal testament but as a beacon for others who face similar struggles. My life has been a series of battles against a system designed to oppress, marginalize, and silence voices like mine. By telling my story, I aim to illuminate the realities of racial and political injustice, inspire resilience, and call for continued resistance against systemic oppression.

This memoir is not just about my past—it is about the ongoing fight for freedom and justice. It is about the importance of standing up against injustice, no matter the cost. My journey is a reflection of the broader struggles faced by so-called African Americans or Blacks in the United States and it is a call to action for all who believe in equity, equality and human rights.

Live or Die Tryin’ Book III concludes with my release from prison in 2003 and my continued pursuit of liberty. As I navigate through a failed marriage and relationship trauma, I take accountability for allowing these experiences to affect my life due to my choices in partners. I offer my final reflections on the importance of fighting for freedom and justice. This memoir is a powerful and moving account of one man’s fight for justice, equity, and equality, offering a unique perspective on the civil rights movement and the ongoing struggles faced by African Americans for their human rights in the United States. I invite you to join me on this journey. Together, we can continue the fight for a more just and equitable world.

CHAPTER 1

Family Reunion

“Family Reunion” - The O’Jays

After a decade behind bars, freedom felt like a stranger, and my family like distant memories.

B

y the time I was 24 years old, I had been in prison since I was 14. I lost two additional months of my time for allegedly violating prison rules, which meant that instead of being released on August 2, 2003, I would now be released on October 31, 2003. It was just days before my release from Pontiac Correctional Center, a maximum-security prison in Pontiac, Illinois. This chapter isn’t the story of my entire prison experience, but rather a glimpse into my last few days before release. I had been sentenced to 16 years for attempted first-degree murder, charged as an adult just two weeks after turning 15 because my so-called friends put all the blame on me to get a lesser prison sentence. Those snitches never got stitches. While I don’t deny my participation. I am innocent of what they claimed I had done. I would never kill or attempt to kill anyone. The years in prison had exposed me to unimaginable experiences. Prison provided the tools I needed for personal growth. It taught me that no weapon is more powerful than a pen. Prison taught me conflict resolution, and survival.

It shaped my perspective on life. Despite the isolation and time spent in segregation, I found solace in aligning with fellow prisoners dedicated to social justice advocacy. Together, we organized, spoke out against human and civil rights violations, and reached out to various organizations and representatives, including the President. These experiences inside prison, where my own and others’ rights were often violated, fueled my determination to continue advocacy work upon my release. Though initially seeming futile, the skills I gained proved invaluable for my future endeavors. Prison enhanced my character development and personal growth.

The last few days before my release were filled with anticipation, fear, and uncertainty. Prison in general and Pontiac Correctional Center was a harsh and unforgiving environment, making survival a daily challenge. Tension was palpable, especially as my release date approached. Every interaction with guards and fellow inmates was a delicate balance to avoid further trouble and ensure I made it out on time. As I counted down the days to my release, memories of the past decade flooded my mind. Each memory served as a reminder of the journey that had led me to this point. These reflections were crucial in understanding the depth of my experiences and the person I had become.

It was six o’clock in the morning. There were no lights on, and everyone was quiet. The prison guards were in the middle of their shift change, the guards would begin their rounds and count fellow prisoners in another thirty minutes. The night before my release from my bid, I was haunted by the memories and the desperate cries of Lil X-Man, a childhood friend.

His pleas several years ago for help echoed through my mind and the prison halls of Statesville Correctional Center, in Joliet Illinois, a stark contrast to the hopeful reunion I longed for with my family. As I lay awake, uncertainty and anticipation intertwined.

Would my family embrace me after a decade of separation, or had the years driven an insurmountable wedge between us? Reuniting with my family after ten years of separation and my time in prison was a bittersweet journey of hope, fear, and the struggle to rebuild fractured bonds.

The memories of Lil X-Man’s cries were a haunting reminder of the brutality and loneliness we both endured. Lil X-Man, had been locked up too long, and began to lose his mind. He had some issues, hell we all did. One night, He had gotten into a fight with his cellmate and now faced the threat of becoming someone’s ‘property.’ Refusing to succumb, he yelled out for help, demanding to be moved to another cell or placed in isolation. When the guards arrived, his defiance escalated the situation, and they met him with excessive force. The sound of his body hitting the concrete walls and floor echoed through the halls. No other prisoner spoke up for him, partly because he was a neutron and not affiliated, knowing that would invite similar brutality upon themselves. Unless Lil X-Man was affiliated then there would be repercussions. This was the harsh reality—a stark illustration of the brutal nature of the system. Silence prevailed because no one wanted to risk the same fate.

I struggled with insomnia, unable to sleep for four days. My mind was filled with a whirlwind of emotions—anxiety, nervousness, excitement, fear, and concern for the friends and family I would leave behind. The weight of the past nine years loomed over me. It was time for a new beginning, a fresh start in a new place and environment. My journey would not be complete until I repaired the broken familial relationships and secured a stable future. I had been denied certain tools while in prison, but I could not let that stop me. I had plans to leave this place behind because God gave me a second chance at life. If I could just survive one more day, I would be going home, although to a strained family relationship dynamic. The time I spent in prison away from my family had torn us further apart. Would I be looked upon as the big brother that I am, or would I be treated as a guest or an outsider?

The Day of Release. Friday, October 31, 2003 was my release day. I had no rights. I could not cast a vote because of my felony conviction. I would have to wait three years before I could go to the polls or vote for a presidential candidate. None of this made sense to me. I paid my debts to society. Well, at least I had my freedom. I was filled with a mix of anxiety and excitement because today, I would be released from prison after serving a total of nine long years away from my family. It was a day I had dreamt of, but its arrival felt surreal. I kept my release date a secret from most fellow prisoners to avoid any potential trouble. Throughout my time in prison, I endured hardships, including losing two months of freedom due to infractions. The sound of the iron bars clanking as the officers checked for security breaches every morning would soon be a distant memory.

As the clock neared 7 am., the guards conducted their count, walking down the halls, calling out our names, and ensuring we were awake and accounted for. After the count, a guard came to my cell and uttered the words I had longed to hear, “It’s time to bunk and junk. You’re going home today.” I swiftly packed my belongings, stripping my mattress and gathering my few possessions. Within minutes, I was ready to go. An hour later, the guard returned, and I followed him down the familiar corridor for the last time. Exiting the corridor, we went through a series of gates and doors, each locked behind us by vigilant guards. Finally, we arrived at a small office where I was handed clothes that my family had bought for me. I was forced to sign a piece of paper waiving my rights to the restitution owed to me by the prison, leaving me with a mere $50 check. I was preparing for freedom. Six months prior to my release, I had to secure a job and provide the prison with a release address.

My grandmother- “Mama” (Jackie), whom I affectionately referred to as ‘Mama,’ became my parole home in Illinois. Especially since my biological Mother (Faith), her second husband Kenny and my siblings had moved to St. Louis, Missouri, over the years. I would be placed on parole for three years, obligated to pay restitution to the prison and to the alleged victims family for the crime I was accused of at age fourteen, and to add insult to injury I had to attend drug counseling at D.A.R.T., despite not having a drug-related case. This contradiction left me disillusioned with the system, eagerly anticipating the end of my parole obligations. As I walked out of the prison doors, a free man, I felt a mix of relief and gratitude. My immediate family came to pick me up. We drove to my grandmother’s house in Brooklyn, Illinois, where I would be staying temporarily. I had envisioned a grand welcome home party, eager to reunite with friends and family. However, upon arriving at Mama (Jackie’s) house, I realized the party I had imagined was not to be. It was a bittersweet homecoming.

Reuniting with my family after years apart brought a mix of emotions. Seeing both my grandmothers Bernadine, (My father’s mother) and mama (Jackie, my mother’s mom) filled me with joy, but the reality of everyone moving on with their lives left me feeling like an outsider. The strained relationship with my mother (Faith) before my incarceration added to the complexity of the reunion, leaving me yearning for the close-knit family I once knew. Despite the lack of a grand celebration, I was grateful for the simple joys of freedom: the blue sky, the autumn breeze, and the sight of leaves falling from the trees. I relished the thought of a hot shower, a luxury I had long been denied. As I settled into my new life, I reflected on the journey that had led me to this moment and looked forward to the future with hope and determination.

Cooking at Mama (Jackie’s) house was a liberating experience. It was the first time that I had the freedom to cook for myself in a kitchen.

As a vegan, I now had to learn to cook vegan meals, and it was a challenge I embraced eagerly. Cooking felt like a return to my childhood, where simple meals like eggs were the extent of my culinary skills. Now, as an adult, I was determined to master the art of vegan cooking. Mama (Jackie) and I would watch television shows, and that became our bonding time. We enjoyed watching “Wheel of Fortune” together, challenging each other to solve puzzles before the contestants could.

Mama (Jackie) also watched the Trinity Broadcasting Network, a Christian programming channel, which was her favorite pastime. Watching TV became part of our daily routine.

I had never experienced big city life, and I felt drawn to it. My job at Building Butlers required me to work in St. Louis, where I would receive my first physical check. My stepfather Kenny and I worked at the Jewish Community Center in Creve Coeur, a suburb of St. Louis, Missouri. My duties included cleaning toilets, sinks, faucets, and mirrors, as well as sweeping, mopping, stripping, waxing, buffing the floors, and taking out the trash. Our routine extended to vacuuming corridors and offices, dusting furniture, and maintaining cleanliness throughout the entire Jewish community center. Despite the mundane nature of the work, I was grateful for the opportunity. Working in the Jewish community center gave me a firsthand experience of Jewish life outside of prison. However, my enthusiasm was met with mixed reactions. Some were impressed by my Hebrew fluency, while others felt threatened by it. As a melanated Jew, I often faced resistance and discrimination. Despite these challenges, I remained determined to find my place within the Jewish community. I explored different synagogues in St. Louis, seeking acceptance and belonging. I thought things would be different on the outside. I never imagined I would experience Work Challenges and Cultural Clashes among fellow believers.

My excitement and eagerness to learn led to my downfall. I failed to separate my personal interests from my professional responsibilities, and it ultimately cost me my job. Despite my sincere intentions, I encountered resistance and discrimination from some non-melanated Jews, who made it clear that I was not fully accepted as part of their community. Despite the set-backs and discrimination, I remained determined to find my place within the Jewish community regardless of the color of my skin. I lost the job Kenny had helped me secure, leaving me feeling like a failure. However, I remained hopeful for the future. I was determined to find meaningful employment and rebuild my life after prison. Facing Rejection and Moving Forward would be a necessity if I wanted to live. I had to play by a familiar set of rules if I was to survive on the outside. It was a journey of Re-discovering my Hometown and Self.

As I drove around St. Louis, I couldn’t help but marvel at the city’s beauty. There was something captivating about the way it was designed. The city seemed to exude a unique charm, and I found myself drawn to its vibrancy and culture. Despite my excitement about exploring St. Louis, I knew I had to find a new job quickly. I couldn’t afford to be idle for too long. It was crucial to secure stable employment to support myself and demonstrate to my parole officer that I was committed to rebuilding my life. The journey had just begun, and I was determined to make the most of this second chance. I had a lot to prove to myself, my family, and the world. The path ahead would not be easy, but I was ready to face the challenges and embrace the opportunities that lay before me.

Returning home after nearly a decade in prison was a bitter-sweet experience. The reunion with my family was both joyful and challenging, filled with mixed emotions and the realization that life had moved on while I was away. Adjusting to freedom, navigating the complexities of strained relationships, and facing rejection from parts of the Jewish community were significant hurdles. Despite the setbacks, I remained hopeful and determined to rebuild my life.

Cooking at Mama’s house and exploring the vibrant city of St. Louis provided small joys and moments of solace. The journey ahead was uncertain, but I was ready to face it with resilience, hope, and the unwavering belief that a better future awaited.

***

Personal Life Lesson Reflections

In this chapter, after nearly a decade behind bars, I walked into the free world on October 31, 2003, with the weight of a fractured past and a heart full of hope. Being reunited with family after such a long separation was bittersweet. While there was joy in seeing my loved ones, there was also the painful realization that life had moved on without me. I was no longer the boy they remembered; I had changed, and so had they. Prison may have stripped me of time, but it also instilled resilience and a determination to rebuild my life and relationships.

As I re-entered society, I realized that freedom was about more than just physical release from prison; it was about emotional and spiritual renewal. I had to navigate complex family dynamics, societal expectations, and my internal struggles—all while trying to reintegrate into a world that felt foreign. My time in prison shaped me into a man who knew how to persevere, but it was outside those walls where the real test of my strength began. Learning to face rejection, rebuild trust, and rediscover my identity were crucial steps in my journey toward redemption.

Takeaways

Freedom is More than Just Physical Release

Leaving prison isn’t just about regaining your physical freedom; it’s about emotional and spiritual freedom as well. True freedom comes from reclaiming your identity, forgiving yourself, and rebuilding your life one step at a time.

Family Reunions Can Be Both Joyful and Challenging

Coming home to family after a long absence can stir up mixed emotions.

While there is joy in reconnecting, the time spent apart can create gaps that take time

and effort to bridge. Rebuilding relationships requires patience, understanding,

and sometimes, the willingness to confront old wounds.

Hope is the Guiding Force in Life’s Transitions

Despite the uncertainty and fear of the unknown, holding onto hope is what sustained me. Hope allowed me to envision

a better future, even when the road ahead seemed full of obstacles. It’s important to always cling to hope—it is the force that propels us forward, no matter how dark things may seem.

Final Reflection

Returning home after prison was a complex and emotional experience. Reuniting

with my family and facing the reality of life outside those walls required courage,

resilience, and hope. The journey was far from easy, but it taught me that every

challenge is an opportunity to gain experience, heal, and rebuild.

CHAPTER 2

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

“Take Me Out to the Ballgame”- St. Louis Cardinals Fans

Stepping onto the field at Busch Stadium wasn’t just about selling refreshments; it was about reclaiming a dream that had once slipped through my fingers.

T

he roar of the crowd, the scent of freshly cut grass, and the crack of the bat—all sensations I had only dreamt of experiencing. As I stepped into Busch Stadium, the iconic home of the St. Louis Cardinals, I wasn’t just there to work; I was fulfilling a childhood dream that had been deferred for far too long. Standing in Busch Stadium, selling refreshments to Cardinals fans, I realized I was living the dream my father had once promised me.

As a child, I harbored dreams of playing baseball like my father, who almost made it to the Negro league but had to put his dreams and baseball career on hold. He had promised to take me to my first baseball game. All my life, I dreamt of meeting one of my idols, the legendary St. Louis Cardinals player Ozzie Smith.

His mesmerizing back flips on the field captivated me and made me try to emulate him. I longed to be a pitcher for the Cardinals, but a lack of guidance hindered my aspirations. My athletic skills were lacking without a coach or mentor, and I struggled to excel in sports.

My first real opportunity to play baseball came at age twelve, after years of pleading with Coach Love from Brooklyn (Illinois) for a chance to join the team. Finally, he relented, agreeing to let me play one game if I could gather the team for practice. Eager to prove myself, I rallied the players early on that warm Saturday morning and eagerly took the field. In the outfield for the first inning, I fielded a ground ball and confidently threw it to the pitcher, feeling a sense of accomplishment. As the game progressed into the second inning, I watched seasoned players confidently step up to the plate, awaiting the perfect pitch to send soaring out of the park.

When my turn to bat arrived, I was a mix of nerves and excitement. Encouraged by my teammates’ chants of, “Hey, batter, batter, batter, swing!” I swung with all my might, hoping for a home run. It was going, going… not gone; it stopped short. My hit was a ground ball that slipped past the pitcher and into the outfield, not the grand slam I had envisioned. Saddened, I took off running for first base as fast as I could, and boy, was I pretty fast. The team cheered me on. The next batter came up, and the pitcher watched me lead off first base as I danced back and forth, waiting for an opportunity to steal my way to second base. I had timed it perfectly; I took off like a jet running to second base. I made it, and my team was excited. The bases were loaded. We had two outs. The next batter could bring us in with a home run. I prayed. He hit the ball, and I ran to third base; I ran so fast that I overran third base. That’s when the other player tagged me with the ball.

I did not know the fundamentals of playing baseball, and it had caused us the third out and possibly the game. I felt miserable, and I never played baseball again. I would only pitch to an imaginary catcher in my backyard for years while wearing my Darryl Strawberry glove.

Fast forward to my adult years where, after serving time in prison, I faced numerous challenges. I eventually enrolled in the St. Louis Job Corps and graduated. Shortly afterward, I was inducted into the St. Louis Carpenters Union. Balancing carpenter school, which was manageable as I only had to attend apprenticeship school every six months, was crucial. The school paid for my attendance, which helped cover bills and family essentials. However, maintaining stable employment proved difficult. After getting fired from a warehouse job, I received a disheartening letter stating, “Due to the nature of the offense committed, you are no longer employable.” This pattern was repeated with another warehouse job, and the termination letter echoed the same sentiment. This rejection was a common theme among Illinois employers, leaving me frustrated and disheartened. Seeking a change from the cycle of temporary jobs, I wanted stable work. The grind of long, arduous hours never seemed to provide enough to cover basic necessities such as rent, bills, clothing, and food.

Despite these challenges, a glimmer of hope emerged when I found the perfect opportunity for seasonal work. I underwent interviews, completed training, and became certified as a food and beverage handler at the St. Louis Cardinals’ Busch Stadium, eager to seize this chance for stability. Working as a seasonal independent contractor at Busch Stadium, selling food and beverages during home games, was an exciting experience for me. I cherished the opportunity as a devoted fan of the team, drawn not only to their play but also to the values they represented. Having never attended a professional baseball game before and getting to wear the Cardinal red made this opportunity a perfect match. Witnessing my beloved team competing against rivals was a dream come true.

During the seventh inning, I would hear “Take Me Out to the Ballgame,” and I sang along to the lyrics as I remembered them as a child. In St. Louis, all of the fans joined in. If there was ever a time our team needed to win this game against the Pittsburgh Pirates, it would be now. I yelled, “Get your ice-cold beers,” and then I sang out loud. This experience taught me valuable lessons in perseverance and determination. Despite my initial shortcomings, I continued to pursue my passion for baseball, driven by hard work and dedication. While my dreams of becoming a professional player may not have materialized, the experience instilled in me a deep appreciation for the sport and the importance of never giving up on my aspirations.

Take me out to the ball game,

Take me out with the crowd;

Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack,

I don’t care if I ever get back.

Let me root, root, root for the home team,

If they don’t win, it’s a shame.

For it’s one, two, three strikes, you’re out,

At the old ball game.

My role allowed me to intimately explore Busch Stadium, navigating its steps, corridors, and concession stands, engaging in what I truly enjoyed — conversing with people and selling refreshments. This job marked a first for me, and it proved to be incredibly enjoyable. I developed a knack for salesmanship, so much so that I often joked I could sell people their own shoes given the chance. I called out to fans, enticing them with cries of “Get your ice-cold beer here!” or “Peanuts, popcorn, hot dogs, nachos!”

My enthusiasm was unwavering, even as my voice waned by the end of each shift. Yet, despite the vocal strain, the experience was deeply fulfilling. Accomplishing three significant things made me particularly happy.

Firstly, I fulfilled my dream of watching my favorite team in action, despite their frequent losses. Second, I relished the opportunity to interact with fans, whose energy and passion for the St. Louis Cardinals were truly remarkable. Lastly, I took pride in selling them products, knowing I could bring smiles to their faces with each purchase. After each shift, I dutifully accounted for the sales made, subtracted the tips, and was pleased with the substantial earnings. These tips, along with the proceeds from my sales, were instrumental in meeting my household responsibilities. Money was tight, so I juggled multiple jobs, including warehouse work, temporary positions, and personal training sessions. When not otherwise occupied, I served as a fitness facilitator at recreational facilities in St. Louis until that position concluded. Through this experience, I honed my customer service and sales skills, learning valuable lessons in perseverance and dedication. The camaraderie among fans and the joy of contributing to their game-day experiences made every moment worthwhile, leaving me with cherished memories of my time at Busch Stadium. Although my father never took me to the ball-game, I imagined what his presence would have been like.

***

Personal Life Lesson Reflections

In this chapter, standing in Busch Stadium, selling refreshments to cheering Cardinals fans, I found myself fulfilling a childhood dream that had once felt out of reach. My father, who never got the chance to take me to my first baseball game, had planted the seeds of that dream. Life’s struggles—poverty, incarceration, and the absence of a mentor—had dimmed its light.

However, here I was, surrounded by the sights and sounds of the ball-park, living a version of that dream. In many ways, this experience was a symbol of the resilience I had cultivated through the years.

While I never became the professional baseball player I aspired to be, standing at Busch Stadium taught me that dreams have many forms. Sometimes, achieving them requires adapting to the reality that life presents. It taught me that success isn’t only found in the grand gestures but also in the small victories, like fulfilling childhood promises to yourself and embracing the joy of the present moment.

Takeaways

Dreams Can Take Different Forms

You may not always achieve your dreams exactly how you envisioned them,

but that doesn’t mean they aren’t worth pursuing. My dream of playing

professional baseball didn’t materialize, but standing in Busch Stadium still

allowed me to be part of the game I loved. Be open to different versions of your

dreams—they might bring fulfillment in unexpected ways.

Perseverance in the Face of Adversity

Life’s challenges—whether poverty, incarceration, or constant rejection—can

delay your dreams but don’t have to derail them entirely. My path wasn’t smooth,

but through perseverance, I was able to create a life filled with meaning and

small triumphs. Even when circumstances seem impossible, perseverance can lead

you to places you never imagined.

Redefining Success

Success isn’t always about reaching the highest pinnacle but about appreciating the journey. For me, success was about learning how to be present in moments of joy, even when life didn’t go as planned. Working at Busch Stadium wasn’t glamorous, but it was fulfilling, and that taught me to redefine what success looks like for me.

Resilience Comes from Small Wins

Resilience isn’t built on grand victories; it’s constructed through small wins

and everyday perseverance. Selling refreshments at Busch Stadium and hearing

the cheers of the crowd brought me joy during a difficult period in my life. Those

moments of joy helped fuel my resilience as I faced other challenges head-on.

Honor the Legacy of Those Before You

My father never made it to the Negro leagues, and he couldn’t take me to my

first baseball game as he had hoped. Still, standing in that stadium, I felt like I

was honoring his legacy. Even if you can’t achieve your dreams in their original

form, finding a way to honor the spirit of them is powerful. I was able to do that in

Busch Stadium, and it filled me with a sense of pride.

Seize the Moment

Life often gives us small windows of opportunity, like my chance to work at

Busch Stadium. Seizing those moments can lead to unexpected happiness and

fulfillment. Don’t wait for the perfect opportunity—sometimes, what’s in front of you

is enough to give you a piece of your dream.

Final Reflection

Sometimes, life doesn’t unfold the way you expect. The professional baseball career

I once dreamed of never materialized, but working at Busch Stadium still gave me the chance to engage with the sport I loved. In those moments, I learned that resilience is built on adaptability

CHAPTER 3

Why Did I Get Married?

“Let’s Get Married” - Jagged Edge

Emerging from the shadows of poverty and prison, I sought not just love, but a legacy that would heal the wounds of my past.

Growing up in poverty, my childhood was marked by a struggle for basic needs. In an environment where showing emotion was a sign of weakness, I learned to suppress my feelings early on. My structured upbringing, influenced by family members who served in the military, clashed with my natural curiosity and distaste for rigid rules. At fourteen, my life took a drastic turn when I was incarcerated. The harsh realities of prison life reinforced the need to hide my emotions. Crying or showing any form of vulnerability could be perceived as a weakness, putting my very survival at risk. Despite this, I never lost sight of my dream to one day have a family of my own. Upon my release at 24, I kept the defensive mindset I had adopted in prison. Opening up to others, especially women, was a challenge. I sucked at relationships, not knowing how to express my feelings or thoughts. But my desire for love and a legacy remained strong, driving me to seek out meaningful connections despite my fears.

I embarked on a quest to find my soulmate, navigating the emotional complexities of reintegrating into society. My up-bringing had left me unprepared for the realities of adult relationships, sex, and marriage. Yet, my determination to find love and build a family led me to embrace life as a family minded man, committed to a monogamous relationship with my future wife.

During my time in prison, I experienced profound personal growth. The challenges I faced taught me the importance of commitment, trust, and unconditional love. These lessons became the foundation upon which I looked to build my future relationships. Despite the stigma of my past, I was determined to find love and set up a legacy. My journey was fraught with unanswered questions: How could I love someone if I never learned to love myself ? Could I remain faithful to one woman for the rest of my life? These questions weighed heavily on my mind, but my faith and resilience kept me moving forward.

Lacking close relationships with married family members, I sought guidance and support wherever I could. My grandfather Abraham had been murdered at a young age.

When mama remarried, I had a step-grandfather and protector. Cleo was my closest role model. Despite these challenges, I turned to God and prayer, trusting that divine guidance would lead me to the right path.

I wanted to get married because I was unbalanced, a void needed to be fulfilled. I wanted what most men seek in life: love, money, and respect. But more than that, I wanted to break the cycle of fathering children outside of wedlock, following in my grandparents’ footsteps by marrying first. My journey was about more than just personal fulfillment; it was about honoring my family and creating a legacy built on love and commitment.

***

Personal Life Lesson Reflections

In this chapter, marriage is often seen as a union of love, but for me, it was also a path to healing, redemption, and building a legacy. After spending my formative years behind prison walls, where expressing emotions could be fatal, I emerged with a hardened heart yet a deep yearning for love and connection. I realized that marriage was not just about finding a partner but about finding a way to counteract the hate and hardships that life had thrown my way. My journey from prison to marriage was about more than just finding love—it was about creating a life filled with purpose, commitment, and the hope of breaking cycles of pain and poverty.

Takeaways

Marriage as a Path to Healing

For someone who has faced intense hardships, marriage can serve as a powerful

healing force. It’s not just about finding someone to love but about

finding someone who can help you heal the wounds of your past.

My journey from incarceration to matrimony was a testament to the power of love

to transform and heal even the most scarred hearts.

The Importance of Emotional Vulnerability

In prison, showing vulnerability was dangerous, but in marriage, it’s essential. I

learned that to build a lasting and meaningful relationship, I had to unlearn the

survival tactics of hiding my emotions and embracing the courage to be vulnerable.

Marriage taught me that true strength comes from opening up and letting someone see the real you.

Breaking Generational Cycles

My decision to get married was rooted in a desire to break generational cycles. I

wanted to create a family built on love, commitment, and respect—values that I

didn’t always see growing up. By marrying before having children, I looked

to set up a legacy of stability and honor, something that would endure for generations.

Commitment is Built on Self-Love

Before you can truly love someone else, you must learn to love yourself.

My time in prison forced me to confront my own worth and value, and it

was through this journey of self-discovery that I became ready to commit to someone else. Marriage is a reflection of the love you have for yourself, mirrored in your love for your partner.

Resilience and Faith as Foundations

My faith played a crucial role in guiding me toward marriage. Despite the stigma of my past and the challenges of reintegration, I relied on prayer and divine guidance to lead me to my future wife. Marriage, for me, was an act of faith—a belief that despite my past, I was worthy of love, commitment, and a future filled with hope.

Marriage as a Legacy

I didn’t just want to get married for love; I wanted to build a legacy. I saw marriage as a way to establish a foundation for future generations, a way to honor my family’s history while creating a new path forward. My marriage was not just about two people coming together but about creating a life that would have lasting impact on our children and beyond.

Final Reflection

Marriage, for me, was a transformative experience. It was about more than just finding love—it was about healing from the past, embracing vulnerability, and building a legacy. Despite the challenges I faced, from poverty to prison, I found strength in the commitment I made to my wife. In doing so, I discovered that within every person lies enough love to counteract the world’s hate, and marriage was the vessel through which I could share that love and create something beautiful and lasting.