Am I Redeemable?

Some years ago, I got in touch with my friend from back in the day. First thing that came up was my conviction. He shared with me how another one of our mutual (former) friends, (former) according to him, said he believes I did it. “Don’t that sound like the Jerit you know?” the guy said. “Of course he did it.” I admit I was kind of hurt. I even thought to myself, He needed to believe that about me. For some reason. But I had to really take his words to heart. I really did try my best to be a thug. A bad person with loose morals. A criminal. That’s what I was trying to be. I guess in the process I made myself look a little worse than I was. Still, even at my prime I was low level at best. Yea sure. I dabbled with drugs, did some things I’m not proud of, hurt people. Not minimize anything.

I don’t try to defend it. It’s a lose, lose. Plus, I already served the time. What good would it be to try to rewrite what happened in the courtroom to everyone I encounter? In that courtroom whatever an attorney doesn’t object to becomes fact. Statement of Facts, for that matter, is what it’s called. It becomes the only truth. We get an inexperienced or overburdened attorney with over dozens of cases at once. They don’t object to inaccurate statements because they are not prepared for the case and the defendant doesn’t know anything but to keep his mouth shut. Everything said by people on the stand or by the district attorney is fact. The truth is forever lost and every defendant is a mastermind, cold and calculated criminal. Not people on a downward spiral with a horrible case of the Mondays. That’s the problem with getting ineffective assistance of counsel.

By no means will I try to defend it or any of the behavior that’s described in any crime. It takes way too much energy to try to defend what once was instead of proving who I am today. I love the challenge. It keeps everybody honest. My crusade is not to defend people who do crazy stuff that haven’t proven they’ve changed. Someone else can die on that sword. At the same time people would have preferred I murdered someone. It’s more respected in the “culture.” Some things I just got to take in stride. It gets easier when there’s a great distance to who I once was.

Before I went with the “couldn’t get the benefit of the doubt?” defense or the “he just gone believe the police?” accusations. Flipping the whole thing on other people and the guilt tripping is not my thing. It’s not dignified and comes off manipulative. I wasn’t a saint and I admit I tried my damnedest to be thug. “Say he wanna be. He say he wanna be. Shorty wanna be a thug.” Something like that. That’s Tupac. I played it over and over again as a kid. Goal accomplished. I didn’t get death. I got a prison term. So yea why play victim now? No matter if I changed or was trying to change and some life shattering news left me suffering in silence and isolation, making me lash out like a wounded animal. And the animal control always has to say they have taken a wild animal off the streets. Ridding the streets of a nuisance. The trees I smoked didn’t help my problem-solving skills and my mantras were horrible. Like “a grown man doesn’t ask for help.” A reckoning was bound to happen.

Now to the matter at hand. Am I redeemable? Is an unknown and loved by few, semi-talented and infamous person redeemable? The reason I say the talented part is because people forgive talent and fame. I even heard this from Jerrod Carmichael in a TV interview. He said something to the effect, that people will forgive talented famous people for anything no matter what they do. And some of that is true. He mentioned Michael Jackson. Right? All over the world people still play his music and that won’t stop. Tupac was controversial and everyone loves Tupac. Everybody loves Mike Tyson and he is still crazy. He once said in an interview “Praise be to Allah” and “I’ll eat his kids” in the same breath. Kanye is still unrepentant and unhinged. He might have an excuse though.

So, what about the average semi-talented or non-talented nobody? Are we redeemable? This is not a blanketed appeal for the sinners and wrongdoers. Some people are just bad people and plan on being bad for as long as life is left in their body. The ones I’m advocating for are not the serials… Anything with a serial. Gang banging and tribal warfare or even military service is a little different. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of shooting and taking of innocent lives. They have different motives though. That might be redeemable because it’s less pathological. However typically anything with a serial in front of it means that’s just what they do. I am talking about the repentant. How long am I a violent criminal?

Because for the one whose truly repentant, the eyes water from the soul’s past transgressions whether forgiven or not. The waterworks come just listening to some of the old hyphy music that got me to do a bunch of dumb stuff at one point. The word thug triggers remorse. I remembered a girl I made fun of in the 7th grade when I was in the county jail hole, over a decade ago, and felt I should have been thrown in prison for that alone. I remember cussing people out, fighting, selling drugs, cheating on my girl, cussing her out for it. I remember smoking trees when I should have been cherishing moments with my family. I took everything for granted. I’m plagued by it. I see why the (former) mutual friend said “Don’t that sound like the Jerit you know?” I look back and say that’s fair. I didn’t think I was that bad but bad people typically don’t think they are that bad.

I am comfortable saying that. This is because I feel like that was a completely different person. That’s not to soften the blow. I can’t take away the pain I caused. In one of my group therapies, Elias had us write the names of the people we hurt down on a piece of paper and balled it up. I filled that thing up, almost front and back, in 20 minutes. I put my name on there too. My son, his mom, my mom, this person, that person. Elias said “Ball up the paper. Ok is it balled up? Now try to straighten it out. You can’t, can you? That’s what you’ve done to all the people you hurt.”

It is to the point another homeboy, recently said to me, “When you get out, we finna smoke.” He said we were going to do all types of stuff I’m not into no more. I had to let him know “That’s out. I ain’t smoking no weed and I ain’t dranking and I ain’t sharing no females with y’all. I’m going to the mosque. I done did enough smoking and sleeping around for a lifetime.” He was like “You the one that got me to smoke for the first time. You don’t remember? Maryjane” (Rick James vocals) “You don’t remember singing that when I was trippin’ over my girl? Like here take this. Maryjane won’t let you down.” At first, I had no idea what he was talking about. But then I did remember singing Rick James. I told the homeboy, after remembering the imposter that took over my teens and early twenties, “Look bro. I’m sorry. That’s a bad coping mechanism. I showed you a jacked up way how to deal with your problems.” He was on the way to the cannabis club as we were talking, about to spend the money he got from his gig job on some weed.

There is immeasurable other offenses and transgressions of my past that sit with me. They fill in the blank spots of my newly formed memories and new identity. They hurt just as much as the tattoos and are permanent. They mark my body and my soul. I don’t expect people to forget. I don’t expect anything. I guess I’m writing this to give people the option to choose between two people that doesn’t come with the one. Instead of batteries not included, my crimes are not included with this package. In order to accept who I am now doesn’t mean people have to defend who I was or what people say about my past.

I’m in prison with horrible people and people who have done horrible things but are no longer horrible people. At the same time, I have met some of the most beautiful brothers I had ever got a chance of meeting in my life. They are few and far between just like in the outside world but they are a blessing to be around. They only can be found behind these walls. I’m talking intelligent. Masterful story tellers and musicians – a lot of their instrumentals are from beating on their chest and snapping their fingers, which makes it even better. Criers. Always needing a hug. They’re in prison for a “hot one” so they can do that. I’m scared to tell them they cry too much. I had met some of the most refined and articulate men who were worse than my little ego could ever imagine I could be and way better than me. I mean they are way better than me. I don’t even curse. A lot of them have taken a life, decades ago, something I never have to live with. And they are better than me. I keep saying that like it’s hard. One of those very same men encouraged me to write. Not just about anything but substance, authenticity, vulnerability.

I guess I have to believe people are redeemable. Look at where I’m at. Before I go into the biblical figures like Paul, Mary Magdalene, and the other colorful men and women of God who changed their ways, I offer two people. One is the one in the news articles. No one needs to defend him or his actions, worrying about what is true or not. In fact, never try to defend that one. No one has to defend or make excuses for a foul-mouthed wannabe thug. He died in 2015.

The other is the one who writes poetry and cares about something greater than himself. Point to him and what he stands for. It’s not about someone’s beginning, it’s about their end. I’ve written Shakespearean sonnets. Helped active gang members write them too. I’ve written poems about grass #take care of the planet stuff. Love poems. Modern haikus written about oppression. Essays. Short stories. One of them I got from the idea of “Just my imagination” by The Temptations. I wrote it for nostalgic old school love.

I offer that one. All are free to choose. No judgement. I am in no place to judge. Still, I like the writer and poet. The one that wants to leave a lasting impression of good. I believe he’s redeemable.