Thursday, December 3, 2015
Location: Segregation Housing Unit, Toledo, Ohio
Just got out of bed. I stayed up late putting the final touches on a short essay I just wrote titled “Lights, Camera … and Freedom?” I intended to sleep to lunch, but the C.O.’s kept coming in and out of the block, slamming doors as hard as they can, and clicking their stupid-ass handcuffs a million times, which, by the way, is the most annoying sound in the world to me.
As I was working on my essay last night, though, I was forced to listen to a way too loud conversation between two black members of the infamous Crip gang, whose dialogue consisted of nothing but juvenile bragging and boasting about the particular set that they represented, which sadly, is the typical dialogue amongst young gang members. Normally, I don’t even pay attention to conversations about the gang life. I’m not in a gang, and the conversations just don’t appeal to me. What made me stop and really listen, though, was because the two gang members that were talking — they were older guys. As I listened to them, though, I shook my head and thought to myself: “Don’t these fools realize that the lifestyle that they’re glorifying was renounced by the co-founder of their gang?” — that is, Stanley “Tookie” Williams, who was put to death by the state of California in spite of having become a renowned author and activist against gang violence.
I know that many people don’t like hearing the truth. But, the truth for blacks is that we have to start making “black lives matter” amongst ourselves. If black men in their thirties, who should be passing off pearls of wisdom to the younger generation, are sitting in prison talking about the superiority of a color, then they are contributing to the destruction of their race, and might as well be one of the trigger-happy cops that are killing black people off like a Hollywood movie script, and that’s real talk!
My peace has been spoken.