My Stories.
My Journey.
My Truth.
Raw.
My Journey
I spent my childhood behind walls. My incarceration for truancy began in 1950s Philadelphia, when I was twelve. No one understood that dyslexia made school unbearable. Instead of discovering who I was becoming, I stood trembling before a Family Court judge, my throat tight with shame from the bullying and assaults I endured. I carried fear in my chest every day. Incarceration changed how I saw the world, how I trusted adults, and how I began to see myself as being worthless.
My Story
I have faced trauma that shook my strength and confidence. Losing my girlfriend to ovarian cancer left me drowning in grief and guilt. I cried endlessly, wishing I had loved her better and married her. The guilt still grows heavier; mourning feels endless, and my pain remains long after her burial.
My Truth
For two decades, I defiled myself by smoking crack cocaine. I was often homeless and jobless. Overcoming my addiction became a testament to my resilience, and the process of healing allowed me to reclaim my sense of self and purpose. Today, I am 31 years free of addiction.
Black Panther Party
I joined the Black Panther Party after police brutality scarred my life in Philadelphia, where I had been beaten in the head with a billy club. Young, naïve, and searching for identity and purpose, I found strength in the black beret, leather jacket, and dark sunglasses. Through protest and demonstration, I became part of the social and political revolution of the 60s and 70s—and found my manhood in the movement.
