Slave Narratives

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SLAVE NARRATIVE #33: Real Thoughts and Experiences from the Perspectives of Massachusetts Prisoners

Mental Health in the Black Community:
The Genesis
By
Universal Born Allah

In order for true democracy to become a reality in the lives of the American citizens in the here and now we must first begin to meticulously examine with an impartial eye the very tenets upon which “our” democracy was found. Let’s start by defining what is the meaning of a democracy.

Democracy-  \ di-ˈmä-krə-sē \ n., pl. – cies
1: Government by the people; esp : rule of the majority
2: A government in which the supreme power is held by the people
3: A political unit that has a democratic government
4: Cap. : the principles and policies of the Democratic party in the U.S.
5: The common people esp. when constituting the source of political authority …

Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary and Thesaurus 2006

In other words a democracy is an institution of laws and principles through which the ruling class citizens exercises its authority for a common cause. Well, if this is so what are the said laws and principles that make up this institution of democracy? It is the fundamental unified body of ideological statutes that is designed to protect the rights of all citizens in our country otherwise known as the United States Constitution.

The United States Constitution was written and introduced in the year of 1780 about eleven years after America garnered er independence and a time in American history when disenfranchisement for Black people was at its zenith. When Black people were considered to be less than three-fifths (3/5) of a human being meaning even a stray dog had more rights in this country than Black people did. This simply shows that when the United States Constitution was inaugurated “our” country’s statesmen did not have the best interest of Black people at heart. Thus, the United States Constitution was not applicable to Black people in its birth period which would apparently explain why the very rights of Black people in American have been non-existent since our arrival into this foreign land in the year 1619.

Although Black people since the days of the Jim Crow era have been consistent in their demands to be recognized as fellow citizens of this country called America it is not enough to just make a demand for change for it is incumbent for us all as a unified people to be the change that we so desperately been longing for. Hence, in order to realistically address the issue of equal citizenship we as Black people must conduct a true inventory of self in initiating the process of being able to identify the origin or root cause as to why we have yet to improve the condition of our lives and stop running away from our past which brings me to the discussion of the ever growing mental health epidemic that has been plaguing Black communities across the nation for generations.

The current mental health condition of Black people in American ban be attributed and traced back to 17th century Sir William Lynch (better known as Willie Lynch) a once wealthy and powerful British slave owner who in the year of 1712 arrived on the bank of the James River in Virginia from the West Indies to give a presentation entitled ‘The Making of a Slave’ teaching slave owners in America how to methodically implement various techniques and tactics into the breaking process of the Black man woman and child starting with age, color, and sex turning the young against the old, light against dark, female against male and vice versa ultimately instilling a psychological sense of hate and distrust among the slaves and a false sense of security and trust within the slave wonder. Divide and conquer.

What is a very key factor in the speech by Willie Lynch that must be highlighted is the accentuation in the articulation of his narrative noting that if the methods of the breaking process was employed correctly the system would operate on its own accord eventually becoming self perpetuating in its effectiveness on the psyche of the Black mind that would last at the very least for the next three centuries. Despite the tremendous strides that Black people have made in this country thus far the distressful conditions of the Black family in todays society is evidently and affirmation to the foresight of Willie Lynch that must be seen for what is really is and not what it appears to be; that the mental illness of the Black community is essentially rooted in what is now called ‘the Willie Lynch Syndrome.’

The Willie Lynch syndrome is an unofficial socio medical terminology that defines the social dysfunctions of todays Black generation genetically inherited from our ancestors who experienced the hours of chattel slavery first hand. To further grasp this concept let’s define the word syndrome; a syndrome is an assemblage of signs and symptoms that develop together in characterization of a particular abnormality or ailment (author’s definition). The symptoms of the Willie Lynch syndrome include but are not limited to; self-hatred, domestic violence, Black on Black violence, and a complex of inferiority.

Needless to say these symptoms have been written off an disregarded by all institutions of society as a myth or science fiction in it’s relation to the Willie Lynch syndrome. Collectively these illnesses amount to what has been recognized as post traumatic slavery disorder.

Post traumatic slavery disorder is the mental sickness of the Black mind stemming from the atrocities incurred by our forebears during the Black Holocaust that intimately correlates to the disparaging social impact currently destroying the minds of Black people generation after generation. Like the WIllie Lynch syndrome, post traumatic slavery disorder has also been overlooked and rejected by scientists in the medical field as a fable. But what makes post traumatic stress disorder anymore credible or worth researching than post traumatic slavery disorder? Is this not racial prejudice?

To begin reversing the effects of post traumatic slavery disorder pathologist, psychologist, psychiatrist, and nutritionist alike just first objectively perform their own independent research of this disorder to truthfully validate unto themselves and those abroad that post traumatic slavery disorder is an actual infirmity of the Black mind and one this study has been clinically confirmed as such they are mutually obligated to diagnose post traumatic slavery disorder for what it truly is; a traumatic psychological disease distinct from post traumatic stress disorder that has been rapidly killing off the Black population in America in astronomical numbers never seen before. One of the killing tools of PTSD that has been politically instrumental in the proliferation of the death of Black people in America is a clause that exist in the United States Constitution that was specifically designed to target Black people and is most certainly a contributing factor in the genocide of Black people that is alive to this very day. The infamous 13th Amendment.

The mental health of the Black community is the genesis to abolishing the 13th Amendment of the United States Constitution which is a complete hypocrisy and a total mockery to the fundamental rights of our nations citizens particularly Black citizens as it prohibits the act of forced slavery while permitting involuntary servitude all in the same breath.

Politically speaking, this is a matter for Congress for in order to abolish the 13th Amendment the issue would have to survive the three (3) branches of the government. However this fight for constitutional reform must start from within the heart of the inner city community that have been mostly effected by it’s existence. But how do we expect to abolish the 13th Amendment, end mass incarceration, and life without parole (LWOP) sentences if we don’t collaboratively attack and reverse the autonomous cycle of Willie Lynchism at it’s root? Nowadays, Black people can’t even agree on more simplistic matters such as supporting Black owned businesses or attending community board meetings rather than always going to the clubs to shake our butts or make it rain.

Black people have suffered so much from psychological trauma that we’ve literally become numb and desensitized to the reality of white supremacy (or white nationalism as it is called today) and systematic slavery in all districts of todays society so much that registering our votes is no longer a necessity or of any importance especially since we’ve been tricked to believe that the Black vote doesn’t county for anything. But no longer can we be victims to the tricknowledge of popular opinion. No longer can we just sit idle around venting to each other about how unhappy or dissatisfied we are with the unfortunate conditions of our lives nor an we just hand around and wait for Congress to do for us what we are capable of doing on our own. No more excuses!

Our most greatest strength is in numbers so let the liberty of our people in captivity of the prison industrial complex (modern day slave plantation) be the common cause of the motivating factor and the incentive to unify and mobilize ourselves to actualize the evolution of true democracy. Because if we as Black people don’t step up and fight for this righteous cause then we are no better than the system we are suppost to be fighting against to bring our brothers and sisters home from prison. It’s on you, it’s on us. No more excuses!

-Peace

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SLAVE NARRATIVE #32: Real Thoughts and Experiences from the Perspectives of Massachusetts Prisoners

Cipher Check

When we think or feel that we understand a person or people, do we really only have knowledge of what their saying, doing, or meaning?

Even though we might have a strong feeling that we understand someone that we commingle with, its a good chance that we only know them.

It is important to have a understanding of who we are building with. Not only that we are cultivating or the community that we are uplifting (they’ll be destroyed!) It’s also important for health relationships between brothers. Understanding one another allows us to be able to communicate, uplift & co-exist with one another without confusion or conflict. I encourage brothers not only to get to know one another but to understand one another.

Throughout my years I have misunderstood people that I thought I understand & I have been misunderstood by people who thought they understood me. It didn’t matter which way the misunderstanding came from it mostly lead to a destroyed relationship. (sometimes violence) I’ve seen others misunderstand people that I’ve understood & the results were the same. My overstanding of this topic allowed me to know that this is a universal problem.

Understanding can only be reached through knowledge (knowing) & wisdom (insight). It is impossible to understanding someone without knowing them. On the contrary it is possible to know someone without understanding them. Knowing someone is knowing the basic’s of that person; how one walks, looks, speaks, thinks, what one wants likes or needs. We can know these things about a person by simply watching the person & hearing what the person has to say. Understanding someone is deeper than that. In order to understand you have to be wise, you have to have insight which is the power or act of seeing into a situation (or person). Wisdom! Wisdom comes with age & experience. People mistake or confuse knowledge with wisdom. They think because they know something that they’re automatically wise to it (Not true!). See, we might know a walk, a look, a speech etc… but to be wise about a walk, a look, a speech is a big difference.

Example: I might “know” you walk a certain way; but why you walk that way, how you walk that way or when to start & stop walking that way I could be completely unaware of. Therefore I’m not wise to the walk but I do know you walk that way…

Wisdom is the manifestation of one’s knowledge. Manifestation is a display or demonstration. If I never had manifestations of you or a situation, how can I understand you or a situation? I can’t, I only can understand you after manifestations are revealed to me. So until then I only know you.

Example: I knew a individual (that shall remain nameless) he had a walk of confidence, he held his head & shoulders back. His appearance was fit he worked out & practiced shadow boxing. When he would speak he would speak of the movement that helps empower our culture (the original people). He would let everyone know what he would do if something unjust was done to him or his people. Though his speech (not a manifestation) I understood he was focused on the prevention of allowing unjust things being done to him & his people. Through his words I was aware that he wanted nothing more than his people to rise. I knew this individual for at two years & I felt I understood him even though we never faced a serious adversity together. I was young at the time & inexperienced with dealing with people of his kind. I would have seen signs in his character if I was experienced in dealing with people like him. One day this individual & I was faced with an adversity that had to do with the well being of the community that we was uplifting at the time. Instead of this individual taking a stand with me he sat down & left me standing alone. Not only that, he also didn’t do what he said he would do when unjust was being done to his people. Now if I would have had a understanding of this individual & his kind I would have been prepared to stand alone. This happened to me again but with different individuals until I finally realized that it’s happening because I was not understanding the individuals that I was commingling with. I only knew them.

We reach understanding through observations, manifestations & experiences that we got through age (time).

Now ask yourself, do you understand the individuals that you commingle with or do you know them? be aware that there are penalties for assuming we understand someone when we really only know them…

Please Educate All Children Everywhere

-Genesis

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SLAVE NARRATIVE #31: Real Thoughts and Experiences from the Perspectives of Massachusetts Prisoners

I am; Who, I am!

I am;
The Micro Aggression of a C/O
The shit inside your Water
The white painted on your walls
The decaying in your Quota
The condescending tone in Authority
The Slop inside your Stew
The Whistle when its count time
The trash you Ave, “It’s you”
The path you walk, “It’s TRUE”
The Ending in your calls
The Deterrence every visit
I’m the man whom you’ve Con
The man whom you’ve wrong
The man who Holds your life
Within his hands; and thus,
The Hate you’ll Face and Burn

By: Ismael Garcia-Vega
AKA Quot A Mill…

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SLAVE NARRATIVE #30: Real Thoughts and Experiences from the Perspectives of Massachusetts Prisoners

Jumu’ah (Friday)

In memory of my mother Deborah Denise Berry

By: Al-Ameen

“You might want to put your folder down,” C.P.O. Tiffany said to me as she dialed numbers into her land-line telephone.

“Why – what’s wrong?”

I put my folder down. I could feel my heart-rate begin to speed up on me. Tiffany is the 7-block C.P.O. She’s a Black girl with short black hair and a smooth brown complexion. She’s a small-little Black girl; with small-little hands; small-little feet; a small little head, a small-little nose on a small-little face. She just has a small-little body overall.

She stood behind her desk in her usual grey shirt, black pants, and black shoes (which I did not have to see to know she had on). In her uniform attire she he’d the phone to her right ear with the same side hand and shoulder while leaning over looking into her desktop monitor.

I have had a few run-ins with Tiffany in the past and she has never failed to rub me the wrong way.

Once I stopped by her officer, during her office hours to inquire about the process of getting my name legally changed. During this entire brief waste of time her full attention was on her keyboard with her index fingers typing what was apparently more important to her than what I was asking about. The only time she looked up at me was at the end of a word or sentence she finished typing. Needless to say she did not help me at all and acted oblivious to the process, if any, that the state prison plantation provided for my inquiry. Those experiences are all too common here. Nearly all of the C.P.O.’s hired to help us offer us no help and are unprofessional in the process. It’s as if they vie against each other with who can do the least work. Then they are praised by the prison plantation administration with employee of the month awards for doing nothing. Now here I was again in C.P.O. Tiffany’s office bracing myself for another attack on my dignity.

Prior to being in her office I was sitting in the masjid (mosque) after the Jumu’ah sermon and prayer when the C.S.D Building officer informed me that I was being summoned back to my unit. I honestly thought that it was that racist, islamophobic, neo-slave hater known as Sgt. “Red Beard” calling me (I haven’t reached the U.S. Supre,e Court’s threshold standard of proof of discriminatory intent but I as well as every other neoslave here knows Red Beard is as intentionally low as they come). He is round like that chubby demon in the movie Spawn, average height, low hair-cut, full beard reddish like the hair on his head, and he wears glasses. When he walks he wobbles from side to side as if his legs are too weak to support his weight. He has a deep and nasaly voice that immediately goes from aggravating to excruciating to listen to once you discover how impudent he is.

I was thinking that maybe he had been rummaging through the refrigerator boxes and found the butter I had in mine, or had shaken down my cell and found the bleach I had in my locker. These normal household items are considered nefarious contraband in prison slave plantations. Most C.O.s operate “out of sight, out of mind” when it comes to these and other similar items, but Red Bears and others worst then him literally go searching for these items so they can write d-reports and send neoslaves back to probation or the hole. I remember when I first moved on the unit I wanted to move in the cell with an akhi (muslim brother). According to the unit rep (every unit has a neoslave representative) Red Beard said he would never move two Muslims in the cell together, and he never did.

When I entered my unit the unit officer, whose name is Potter, was standing in the foyer at the top of the flight of stairs listening to a neoslave speaking to him. As I came through the door he had his uniform cap removed, holding it by the brim in his left hand and rubbing his head with the palm of the same hand. He noticed me coming through the door to his right and nonchalantly broke his attention away from the neoslave to tell me C.P.O. Tiffany needed to see me. Potter’s eyes widened a little when he turned his head and looked at me. he pressed his lips together and spread them across his face, then inhaled and exhaled through his nose before speaking to me. But he does that a lot when he speaks so I consciously refused to entertain in my mind the allusion of his idiosyncracy. I ignored that it was a sign of what was to come, and that it correlated with what I would soon know. I guess I was optomistic because at that moment it was obvious that I was wrong about my initial thought that Red Beard had flagged me for contraband.

Walking over to the 7-2 unit when CPO Tiffany’s office is located, I felt hollow inside. It was out of routine for her of any C.P.O. to schedule an appointment so late in the day. After eight years of being counted more than three times a day, I, of all neoslaves, know that the state prison plantation runs on routine and operates like a well-oiled machine. In fact, disciplinary reports are handed out everyday for disrupting ‘the normal operation’ of the institution.

What made her operate outside of her normal routine for a neoslave? I though. I entered through the door, went up the flight of steps, checked in with the unit officer, and headed to her office. The door was open so I looked in but waited at the threshold of the doorway until she glanced in my direction, which I interpreted as a sign of her tacit approval to enter. I walked in and sat down in the chair she has in her small office directly in front of her desk reserved for neoslaves. “You can close the door,” she said as I settled in the chair. She lifted her small-little smoothe brown face off the phone and thrusted her chin in the air towards the door as if I needed a non-verbal gesture as well to understand what she asked of me. I closed it. She picked up the phone. “Your wife…Nia…I have to call her for you.”

“Can I just call her back on my unit? I have money on my phone.”

“Nope. I have to call for you.”

She used every object in her office as an excuse to look away from me. I heard they were trained to avoid looking into the eyes of neoslaves. The hollowness inside of me expanded even more. My heart was racing at double the speed now.

“Hello…Nia…Is this Nia…I have yous husband here o.k…And I have to put yall on speaker. OK…OK, one second.”

She pressed a button on the phone base that turned on the speaker-phone then she hung the phone up. She pushed the phone closer towards me to the top end of her desk and I learned forward in the chair.

“Nia.”

“As-Salaam Alaykum,” she said.

“Wa Alaykum Salaam, what’s up?”

“This is hard for me to tell you this…but…shortly after I got off the phone with you this morning…your mom passed away in the hospital…I’m sorry I…”

“Nia”

“Uh huh”

“I’m gonna call you back in a second when I get back over to my unit, alright?”

“Alright. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

When C.P.O. Tiffany hung the phone up, I swear I had every intention the second the phone call disconnected to sprang right up and rush out the door back to my unit to call my wife but I could not move. I just sat and stared blankly across the small office at the window I could not see out of because there was an AC in it. Out of my peripheral I could not help but notice C.P.O. Tiffany was now looking at me. Suddenly at that moment in time I became visible to her.

“Would you like to see mental health?”

“No, I’m good.”

I broke my blank stare as I felt tears flooding my eyes. I grabbed my folder off her desk and I held it in my lap, staring down at it. The first tear rolled halfway down my cheek and fell off my face onto the tan-colored folder. I stared down at the deformed circle it made. Drip, drip. Two more tears fell straight of my eyelashes and splashed against the soft surface of the folder.

“You want a tissue?”

“No, I’m good.”

I wanted to leave but I could not move. C.P.O. Tiffany ignored my refusal and handed me tissue anyway. I accepted it from her but I did not use it. I could feel her faze weighing heavily upon me. Does she really care that mommy is gone? Or are my tears a source of state prison plantation drama that she can take home and entertain her friends with. If she really cared why would she hand me a piece of tissue when it could never be enough to wipe away the life time of tears I will cry for my mother? C.P.O. Tiffany’s brown skin does not fool me. She’s not earning a wage to care. She earns a wage to give me absolutely no privacy on the phone with my wife as she struggles to find the words to tell me that my mommy is gone…gone forever. She gets paid to protect the state prison plantation from legal liability by asking if I would like to see mental health. She gets paid to pretend that the state prison plantation will actually transport a neoslave to see his only mother one more time before she is laid in the ground. All these thoughts I had at that moment in time became a source of strength for me as I grieved for mommy and battled with the anger I had due to feeling helpless to be there for her and my family. I picked my head up and the tears begin to flow down into my beard. I did not try to wipe them; there was no need to. I looked at C.P.O. Tiffany so deep into her eyes I could see the long line of Uncle Toms she emerged from.

“I hate this place. The hate that I have for it, is so visceral, it communicates with the neurons in my heart. I hate what this place does to people; including you; and definitely what it has done to me. If I was not strong this place would destroy me as it destroys the family with spatial hostility. And I know destruction because I destroyed in my days of ignorance. I hate its physical infrastructure. I hate the filthy magnesium saturated water that I am forced to consume and bathe in. I hate that this state prison plantation is allowed to be called a ‘correctional’ institution. Soon I will return to society teeming with this hate. I will return to society remembering this day. I have realized my purpose now and you have helped to liberate me.”

Mobile now, I stood up and walked out of her office and went back to my unit to call my wife as I told her I would. C.P.O. Tiffany maintained her focus on me even as I turned my back to her and walked out the door. She will see me for the rest of her life now.

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SLAVE NARRATIVE #29: Real Thoughts and Experiences from the Perspectives of Massachusetts Prisoners

Attribution: Duncan C, https://www.flickr.com/photos/duncan/835195

My Story

I grew up in a house where everything was kept hidden inside,
So much ego and pride,
My father was too blind to see the pain in my eyes.
Even when I tried to speak-up,
I was told to shut the fuck-up,
In the nicest way,
Cried for days,
When my brother Pavel passed away.
I was seven,
I was told GOD took him to heaven,
Made one of my worst mistakes in life when I was eleven.
Told my father it was time for him to man up and choose,
Between me and my step-mother, as a child how could I know I would loose.
Lost and confused.
I found myself living with my neglectful mother,
Hated my father, i felt abandoned by my sister and brothers.
So much pain and trim,
Led me to become addicted to alcohol and marijuana,
Even in cold winter days I hung-out like it was summer.
Regardless of the consequences,
Started hanging with similar delinquent minded adolescents.
In the streets I found my voice through the art of Rap,
Ran-away from home emotionally into my so-called best friend’s trap.
For once in my life everything that felt so real I came to realize was really fake.
The only real family that I had was at home whose heart I would break.
I never felt like I had their support.
Till the day I murdered an innocent young man and ended-up in court.
No more friends, guns, drugs and alcohol,
That could take away my pain as my loved ones witnessed my down-fall.
Incarcerated for life,
Missing my children, family and wife,
If I could go back in time and give my young self advice,
I would tell him to be patient, be careful with fake friends and to think everything over twice,
Been denied Parole Twice,
I’m tired of eating nasty stews with rice,
Surrounded by mice.
They walk on two legs dressed in human clothes,
Who see c.o’s as their personal super heroes.
But as I find,
Myself doing time,
Making space,
I allow my mind and soul travel outside this toxic place.
So I found a time and place it’s called Music-501,
Where I can excape and keep my hopes of a brighter future-because my life’s been hasn’t rung,
I’m on the path of redemption like the prodigal son.

Vinny Universal Nunez

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SLAVE NARRATIVE #28: Real Thoughts and Experiences from the Perspectives of Massachusetts Prisoners

 

I would like to speak about my time in D.D.U. (Department Disciplinarian Unit). I was sentenced to D.D.U. for ten (10) years, along with several others, for an incident that took place in general population at M.C.I. Walpole.

The incident that happened it was due to the fact how the prison guards was mistreating us during a previous lock down. They will come into the block and assault us with their nightstick. They will throw away personal items: pictures, books, letters and clothing. So we got fed up with their abusive behavior, so we decided to stand up for our right to be treated like human beings.

Now doing my sentence over in D.D.U. the tormented abuse continued. I had deal with the verbal abuse, the physical abuse, the psychological abuse. For example, whenever they will take me out of the cell, they go in and destroy it. Leave footprints on the bed sheets, clothing thrown on the floor, pictures will be floating in the toilet. Or they will switch cell on you and place you next door to a guy who likes to bang on your wall all day and night, likes to throw feces etc, likes to snatch anything going by his cell on the fishing line.

D.D.U. is not the place for the weak. I seen guys come over there and turn suicidal by cutting up or even trying to hang they self, talking to they self, rubbing feces and blood all over they self.

Some of us don’t even realize the psychological effect D.D.U. have on us. There’s no physical contact unless you are fighting the tactical team just for physical contact. For I experience one time when I was just about to wrap up my D.D.U. sentence, I went to court with one of my comrades and we embrace one another and I had to push him away. Because I haven’t had human contact over and a decade and it felt awkward.

There’s more I could have express but by now you get the idea how D.D.U. can take its total on individuals that goes over there for long period of time or even a short period of time.

Thank you,
Gary Bon

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SLAVE NARRATIVE #27: Real Thoughts and Experiences from the Perspectives of Massachusetts Prisoners

CHAMPION, Are You Truly One?

Peace!

Usually, a lot of us prematurely declare ourselves to be something without truly understanding the weight of the declaration we are making. I’m aware that at times this is done incorrectly, for example: I hear the expression “the champ is here” constantly being used, but honestly, what do we know about being champions within our own Selves? Who is the greatest opponent we’ve ever faced? As for me, I know that the toughest opponent I’ve ever faced was and is “MYSELF,” yes I said “MYSELF!” In order for me to truly be the champion that I declare myself to be, I have to get into the ring with MYSELF!

Most are probably wondering “has he lost his mind?” But the answer to that is that during our everyday walks of life, we are constantly being governing by 2 masters: 1) the mental and 2) the physical. These 2 opponents are always clashing with one another. We are constantly being ruled by our physical, because mentally we aren’t strong opponents. Mentally, a lot of us always have the right intentions when it comes to things we want to bring to the world and live out! That’s not good enough because the physical tends to make it impossible due to the fact that our limbs are not being put to use to manifest these thoughts or ideas!

So the reason why I said that the toughest opponent one has to face is himself is due to the fact that one must master himself! Internally, it’s a never-ending battle between the mind and body. Right now some of us aren’t champions because we are under the control of our physical beings. When our physical selves shut down the message that’s being relayed from our mind, we become convinced that whatever we are doing at that moment is impossible, so in turn, we tend to feel tired and exhausted. All we want to do is lay back and put our feet up. Now on the opposite end, if we say no to what the physical wants, it seems as if the physical self rebels! We begin to fight sleep, we feel lazy, we can’t focus, emotions get involved. These are all the tactics being used by the physical to overpower us mentally. Most of us have dealt or will deal with this challenge. In order to rise above this challenge, one must have that mental vigor and go toe to toe with the toughest opponent ever encountered! How people come out will depend on their mental fight game. Always remember, when we choose to step into the ring with the self, there won’t be any referees. It will be a fight until one overcomes the other! At the end of this fight, you will know more about yourself than you ever had, and the truth will reveal itself!

“Two Gods must never fight unless one must die”! Well, at this moment, we are being ruled by 2 Gods, the mental, which is our higher self, and the physical, which is our lower self! Remember, one must die! Ask Yourself, which will prevail?

So before we declare ourselves to be the champs, let us step in the ring and face ourselves. Trust, there is no tougher opponent in life other than YOURSELF!

ASK YOURSELF:
1. How will you come out if you choose to step in the ring?
2. Are you mentally prepared?
3. How many rounds are you prepared to go?

Peace
Powerful

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SLAVE NARRATIVE #26: Real Thoughts and Experiences from the Perspectives of Massachusetts Prisoners

This burden on my heart is hard for me to bear, because I’ve come to despise the reality of my life for I look at my state of repression with a conscious mind and open eyes. The agony enclosed inside me hurts beyond all things, so try to feel and understand when I say that this penitentiary enslavement is haunting and tormenting my soul.

This is just real talk, so please take heed of this plea I’m trying to convey.

I speak from my heart because my soul cries out, “How can one be happy or content with his life, when he’s imprisoned for life under conditions unfit for the mind?”

The misery, suffering, hate, anger, pain, and confusion enclosed in these walls is bound to break the strongest of minds, if not push it to the edge of questioning an challenging its own sanity.

Every existence and spirit that is perceived subconsciously is seen for what it truly is, yet it’s the conscious mindset that causes us in prison to be deceived. The majority of us in prison were lost in thought from the start. We didn’t possess the mental capacity to separate reality from illusion.

So the symptoms of misery, suffering, hate, anger, and pain become our confusion.

Instead of the mind transcending to a “higher plane of thought,” the only evolution process that transpires in the mind is a degenerate one. We succumb to the feelings that we can’t identify, understand, or deal with. Therefore, the mind is repressed.

So what does one do when faced one-on-one with the mind and an infinite amount of time? Either we evaluate and study the reality of the mind or we create a fictitious mindset to blot out the situations and conditions we’ve created in the real world. Most choose not to deal with the mind because of a misery and hate of inner self.

And on top of this psychologically suppressive state, they place us in a harsh and isolating environment such as the Ad Seg (the Hole) for whatever reasons. In a cell 24 hours a day, 165 hours a week, 660 hours a month, with nothing or very limited items that could be used to distract the mind from its capacity for creative thinking, reflecting how we have been destroyed by the system.

While researching and studying “America’s Concentration Camps” in social science and clinical literature, I have consistently found that when human beings are subjected to isolation and reduced environmental stimulation, they may deteriorate mentally and in some cases, develop psychiatric disturbances. These include perceptual distortions, hallucinations, hyper-responsiveness to external stimuli, aggressive fantasies, extreme paranoia, inability to concentrate, problems with impulse control, sexual desire, personality disorders, and aggressive behavior.

Additionally, the “slave drivers” (prison officials) don’t make things any better by constantly harassing and treating us as if we’re truly undesirable. The cruel and unusual punishment clause on the 8th Amendment “imposes” a duty on the prison officials to provide “humane” conditions of confinement, not “barbaric” ones. The only thing they believe in is medicating and sedating those who can’t cope with the stressful conditions using “psychological animal tranquilizers.”

These conditions are extreme isolation and environmental deprivation. Especially on medication that sedates and does not serve a penalogical interest for penal philosophy!

It’s also causing our psyche to deteriorate to a level that we can’t consciously understand or recognize. We are not aware of this mental disorder, which causes us to lose control of our feelings, emotions, and rational thinking.

In return, this leads us to focus our inner misery and hate towards the next spirit. And this is what’s going on in Jefferson City Correctional Center “Super Secure Ad Seg,” in housing unit #8 and housing unit #7. Aggression toward aggression, inner misery toward inner misery, hate of self toward hate of self, and confusion toward confusion. These are the ingredients which create what we call an “Ad Seg warrior.” Or the most commonly used term “Blow Hards.” These are the spirits who verbally abuse, assault, and assassinate another’s character in order to entrap someone into their misery.

These “Blow Hards” are so mentally unstable, that they’re very aware and conscious of their actions yet their minds can’t distinguish fact from fiction, they can’t separate reality from illusion because they’re consumed in an inner turmoil that’s unbearable. So they contaminate other weaker minds who are already suffering from a psychological malfunction with mere misery, suffering, hate, anger, pain, and confusion to strengthen their illusions.

In so many words, “captivity” in itself breeds a form of neurosis that manifests into hate of self. When weaker minds can’t deal or live with what they carry inside themselves, they create it outside themselves.

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SLAVE NARRATIVE #25: Real Thoughts and Experiences from the Perspectives of Massachusetts Prisoners

In the Massachusetts prisons, the first level of war begins by gaining “popular opinion.” The goal is to try to win it or manipulate it to your interest. In such a war, there are certain words that are constantly used to paralyze any potential “popular support.” These words are 1) rat, 2) skinner/diddler, 3) coward (PC), 4) power-monger, 5) cell thief. If your enemy or enemies are able to convince the popular opinion that you are potentially or actually one of the aforementioned, then support for you becomes paralyzed on a general basis. In Walpole and throughout the system, in the 60s, 70s, 80s, and early to mid-90s, it was hard to play this type of wargame, in military terms this initial step in prison warfare is called a “war of nerves.” Its intention is to try and rattle, confuse, and/or paralyze the “nerves” of action and thereby your enemy(s) and their allies are rendered useless.

One of the reasons why a “war of nerves” was useless in the “old days” was because the accusers had to come up with “documentary evidence” on hand and the accused were confronted in order to verify or repudiate said documentation with his evidence. The confrontation was necessary since “false” paperwork was rampant via cunning Machiavellian enemies. This documentary evidence process was necessary before “good convicts” reacted. Otherwise, it was the baseless accuser who would be dealt with for spreading unsubstantiated gossip.

For those with lesser principles, today’s brand of “prison justice” is a welcome change. All it takes is an influential voice or group of influential voices to claim “he’s no good” or as we “Hispanics” say “escratchao.” Other lesser influenced good dudes are then influenced by force or fraud and the “opinion” is repeated so often that it becomes the truth whether or not it’s a fact.

I came to realize that some of my true failure was in making the vow, not in breaking it. I now make a new vow, one weighed in experience and proclaimed with my eyes open: I will not raise my hands except in defense of my constitutions & cause: in defense of my principles, of my life, or others who cannot defend themselves. I will not battle to further the cause of false prophets or to avenge my own pride. I add my oath of protection to the good comrades. I will fight with my last breath of need be, and in my death allow me God to inflict a wound on those that will fester until it claims him, and to those who look upon such a vow & oath as unrealistic, impractical, even ridiculous, I place my right fist upon my chest and declare it conviction: I am a righteous servant king. Long life to the revolutionary “red army.”

KC

The Supreme Commander in Chief

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SLAVE NARRATIVE #24: Real Thoughts and Experiences from the Perspectives of Massachusetts Prisoners

Maturity

Maturity is the ability to control anger and settle differences without violence or destruction.


Maturity is patience. It is the willingness to cease impulsive pleasure in favor of the long-term gain.

Maturity is the capacity to face unpleasantness, distraction, discomfort, and defeat without complaint!

Maturity is perseverance, the ability to sweat out a project and or solution in spite of heavy opposition and discouragement.

Maturity is humility. It is being big enough to say “I’m wrong” and when right, the mature person need not express the satisfaction of saying “I told you so.”

Maturity means dependability. Keeping one’s word no matter what, even in crisis. The immature are masters of avoidance, they are confused and disorganized. Their lives are filled with broken promises, former friends, unfinished business, and intentions that somehow never seem to materialize!

Maturity is the art of living in peace!