Greetings friends! We want to welcome you readers back to another edition of The Beat Within. This latest issue truly shines with plenty of great writings from our weekly workshops with the young people (and the adults) inside and outside of the system. We are very proud of the great work coming out of our groups and want to extend a big thanks for all of you contributors. It is hard to believe the year is ending soon and 2023 is right around the corner! We must thank our partners, friends, collaborators and you writers and artists who step up each week to make this program the 26 year success that it has been and continues to be. We also appreciate the solid work being done inside San Quentin week in and week out! We wish you could join us for these San Quentin sessions, as the men truly put in the good work in the name of The Beat Within and all the young people we work with.
It’s OT hitting you guys with some wisdom, game and knowledge. I’m going to get really personal so I can get this positive message across.
The year was 2012, I was creasing my jumpsuit, excited getting ready for my hot date. I was getting a visit at a Federal Correctional. I had already had a couple of visits, but this visit was extra special. I was going to see the love of my life. So, I spent what seemed like an hour on the mirror shaving, make sure my mustache was low.
I was growing my hair out again, and it was getting long, but I had it straight slick back. I haven’t seen them in like two years, three years because I was constantly on the move from facility to facility and finally being placed in a facility like 5 to six hours away from where my loved ones live.
It’s hard to put into words how much a father misses their kids while being incarcerated. You have all the time in the world to reflect on your mistakes when you’re locked up. And even though we all know that we don’t get any do-overs in life, you still sit there and think, “What if I would’ve done things differently.”
I read the pieces and edit them as well. Many writers struggle with trying to be a dad while being incarcerated. I feel their pain and what they go through because I went through the same thing. You only get so many phone calls. You have to make sure you send them letters, (if they’re old enough to read). Luckily, I had an amicable relationship with my baby mama, and she would read them the letters. I would send them drawings, on almost every holiday, Valentine’s, Easter, their birthdays. You do your best to try to be present, without out actually being present.
When I finally got transferred to a maximum security facility, I would get about 1-2 phone calls a month. So, obviously I didn’t talk to them as much, but I would write and draw often, trying to make sure they wouldn’t forget about me. They never did because I would get drawings back too, for Father’s Day, and for my birthday.
I would get those “Best Dad In The World Cards” and it honestly would make me cry because I knew I wasn’t worthy of holding that title, not while being locked up and being absent from their lives. It was hard. It was also hard ignoring and pushing that feeling to the side because I was in a lethal environment where I had to show no weakness.
I had to swallow all my emotions walking around with an imaginary lump in my throat. The feeling of emptiness and hollowness were drowned out by my constant smiles and jokes. There were other inmates, cellies, people I referred to as my “brothers” that were going through it as well, and some couldn’t hide it well like I did. I would hear them out, listen to them, talk about their mistakes as a dad, wishing for one more chance to reunite with their kids.
I would be so touched by the way these men would express their love for their kids so profoundly. It was sad, because I knew some of them may not make it back home, due to their circumstances or time they still had to serve, but it was also inspiring because it showed me that I wasn’t the only one.
It also showed me that with so many absent fathers in the “free” world, there was a group of gentlemen behind the walls, that would give an arm and leg to be a father to their kids. I was one of them. I had to play the consoler, the shoulder that many leaned on, and I didn’t have to put this “I’m hella hard,” front, but I was the dude that was always positive and upbeat no matter what, always trying to cheer people up. I would share my experience too and always try to tell people to look on the bright side.
Luckily, I didn’t have to give an arm or a leg, because my daughters actually came to see me in that prison. Boy did I feel like a million bucks. All the homies knew, all incarcerated fathers congratulated me because it was a win for all of us. All of us were far away from home, and many didn’t get visits, but I was lucky to get the visit from the loves of my life.
The CO’s came and cuffed me up because I was a validated prison gang member. I remember walking through the halls, that looked like a hospital, then going outside to the yard, which looked like a desert, no green trees, no nothing, just barb-wired fences, buildings, and dirt. Nothing special for me to describe.
I get to the visiting room, looking around anxiously for anybody that might do me harm. The cops were real nice as to not let my kids see me get un-cuffed. And as soon as they took the handcuffs off me I turned around I saw the two most beautiful little 6 years old twins just come running to me, screaming, “Daddy!”
They both jumped on me like they used to do when they were smaller and I caught them both one on each arm and alternated kisses from one cheek to the other’s cheek. Having twins is a blessing but definitely a lot of work.
Boy those burpees came in handy because I was carrying like nothing as if they were still three years old. I kissed both of them at least fifty times. We played Candyland what seemed like 80 times, then we played Snakes and Ladders, and Connect Four. We talked about the old days, and boy do kids have a great memory. We talked about when I took them to the Warriors game (shout out Dave, he made that possible) and I knocked the cheesy Nachos on someone’s lap by accident and I had to buy them another one.
We joked, we laugh, they both sat on my lap the whole time. We ate burgers and hot pockets from the vending machines. It was a four hour visit that seemed long but too short at the same time. We were having a good time when one the Correctional Officers interrupted me and told me ICE was there to see me.
I said, “I’m in a visit with my kids, tho.”
“Yeah, sorry, they can’t wait. They need to see you like right now.”
So, I had to put my visit on pause and go see the Immigration Custom Agents.
As soon as I walked in, they asked me for my green card and legal documentation. I told them I was in prison, how could I even produce those things? Then they proceeded to ask me a ton of questions and interrogate me as if I was going to get charged for a crime I committed in the past. They told me if I cooperated that they would help me not get deported so I can raise my kids.
I don’t know if they planned this, but this was a real jerk move. I told them I wanted my attorney and they said, “You have no right to no attorney. And we’re going to come get your ass and deport you. You’re out of here.”
“Can I leave now?”
I returned to my visit with my kids, and my baby mama and her mom were worried and scared and asked me what happened. I told them nothing, that they just wanted to ask me questions.
We continued our visit, and kept playing, talking and having fun, but as the sand in the hourglass slowly dwindled down, reality came crashing back to earth like the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs. It hit me hard. “This could be the last time I see my daughters.”
I tried not to let the thought creep into my mind, but like a cockroach in the kitchen, as much as I shooed it away, it kept coming back. I was still joyful and tried to enjoy what would actually be the very last time I got to hold, hug, and kiss my daughters. I remember my daughters, kept asking me when I would be coming home, and I had to keep on lying to them, “soon, baby, soon.”
And soon it was time to say our goodbyes, them not knowing it would be the last time, and me actually knowing that this maybe the last time. I hugged them sooo hard and tried my hardest not to cry when I saw their sad little faces and little pouts.
I didn’t lie, when I told them “I love you both with all my heart and soul. Please behave.” But I did lie when I told them, “Daddy will be home soon.”
They were about to leave the visiting room as I was waving and blowing kisses to them. Right before they were about step outside those doors, they ran back and gave one last hug and kiss. They didn’t want to leave.
Tears streamed down my face lightly as I wiped them off and gave them their last kisses. The COs were watching the whole thing, and as they handcuffed me they told me, “Sorry man, I thought you were a citizen,” as if they too knew it would be the last time seeing and holding my daughters. They had already known me for a while and were actually pretty cool with me.
“It’s all good man, it’s not your fault,” I said, as I wiped the tears from my eyes and quickly looked around for a potential threat as I almost forgot that I was in prison. “Back to prison life,” I told myself, as I was escorted back to my prison cell.
I share this story because we all go through things in life. Doing time, it is guaranteed that you will miss many things, birthdays, holidays, family events, time spent with loved ones, seeing your kids, whatever, but we still have to be thankful for what we do have. We use those negative thoughts and convert them into positive energy that will help us become better, so we never have to go through the same ordeal ever again. Lesson learned and I hope y’all learn also.
One love to everybody going through the struggle. OT is signing out with the utmost love and respect. The Beat keeps going and going.
OT, thank you for this story. Your words put tears in our eyes, as we hope one day very soon, you will be reunited with your twin girls and the family you love and miss so much. We appreciate your raw honesty and truth. We hope this story will only inspire others to feel comfortable in sharing their truths, as we all know how important it is to tell your story to help others cope, as well as hopefully helping yourself. Stay writing, especially now. As the holidays are now days away, we do need each other to support to help us all get through these times. Enjoy the latest issue and thank you once again for embracing The Beat Within. Stay in touch!