“I’m Glad Trump Is President!”

DUmb ass trumpThere hasn’t been a day of this year where I didn’t have the urge to shoot off my opinion about the ramification and the underlying meaning of what President Trump brings to the table.  At first, I was disappointed, especially in my current position as a federal inmate.  The momentum of the prison reforms in an attempt to correct draconian mandatory minimums laws that were put in effect back in the 80’s came to a sudden halt.  Although I wasn’t a Hillary supporter since it was Bill Clinton’s administration and Joe Biden’s articulate drafting of the mandatory minimum laws that continue to disrupt communities across America, they did attempt to right the wrongs of the past with the Fair Sentencing Act (the name in itself reveals just how unfair it was) by supporting the Obama’s administration’s criminal justice reforms.  That was really my only issue as far as who won the Presidency.

Once Bernie Sanders, who was my preferred candidate, got cheated, I knew the fix was in.  That fix happened on both sides, so who could really be mad?  I’m actually glad that Trump is our president, and when I said this to my mother in the visiting room triggering the rage that’s been eating her from within since the November results, her eyes got watery, and her face turned red with a volcanic fury, gripping my arms, digging her nails into my flesh intending to draw the blood of her only son. Glaring her squinting blue eyes, slowly shaking her head through clenched teeth she said, “How dare you say that to me!”

My mother was a hippy, who’s been marching for civil rights since the sixties so she lives and dies for that love, peace, and happiness movement.  She’s a white woman who in 1969 married my father, a big strong bald headed black man when interracial marriage was still ILLEGAL in some southern states of America.  Just because interracial marriage was legal in New York, it didn’t stop a local racist from attempting to burn a cross in my parents’ front lawn.

That was one of the proudest stories she told me about my father, catching the ignorant fool in the act and my dad beating the shit out of him.

My mother raised two black children on her own in an all white community, suffering her share of racist insults like being called a nigger lover.  Derogating stares, humiliating whispers behind her back but loud enough for her to hear, while walking by with my three year old sister, holding her hand and cradling me, a new born on her opposite shoulder keeping her head held high, ignoring the hurtful taunts, that in those days people felt way too comfortable expressing.

The strength and fortitude my mother displayed to change the world that my sister and I grew up in was always evident. Taking us to marches protesting nuclear facilities, demonstrating for women’s rights, painting our faces with flowers and peace signs to spend out childhood Saturdays, walking with thousands of people for whatever cause my mother felt needed to be addressed, was normal for my sister and I growing up.

Jean Wright was grooming me to be the first black President, after a revelation she had when she took me to the 20 year anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr’s march on Washington.

Although she loves President Obama to the point that she’s probably on some governments watch list of those willing to martyr themselves for his cause, she resents him just a little for taking my spot.  But it wasn’t Obama’s fault, I was a rebellious confused teenager that took to the streets.

When I explain to my mother the politics of living in the Penitentiary, between the different races, gangs, and religious groups, most of the time I’m able to equate the same or similar issues to the outside world.  When I’ve shared certain situations where I’ve had to intervene by resolving a peaceful solution, she’s proud that I’m finally channeling mementos of the political ambitions from her vision she had while standing with me bare foot, knee high in the Washington memorial reflection pool.

For me to support Trump in any manner was a betrayal, the kiss of Judas in my mother’s eyes.  As she released her imprinting nails in order for me to explain why I would make such a cruel statement, I asked her to breathe and calm down while I explained my train of thought.

President Donald Trump has removed the veil that a big portion of this country has hidden behind for years.  Now that he’s so boldly put out there what many of us have known, but couldn’t prove without sounding like a conspiracy theorist or bitter fools, is the reason I’m glad he’s president.

Trump exposed how easily people can be manipulated and controlled by ignorance, fear, and anger.  There was no doubt in his display of insolence for women, blatant racist remarks and overtly prejudice policies, that he planned to implement once he was in the office he now occupies.

President Donald Trump is not the problem and he’s defiantly not the solution.  He represents a time of a not so distant past that he camouflaged in his campaign slogan “Make America Great Again.”  Donald Trump is nothing more than a reference point, an indicating marker of the type of character that appeals to enough voters to get him elected.  That in and of itself reveals a lot more to me than anything he can say or do and that’s why I’m glad he’s President.  The power is in the people and like it or not, the people have spoken!!

But now my dear reader, what are the people saying?   Eight months in and it’s scandal after scandal, some are just distractions from what’s really going on of course.  Look how close we came to losing the Affordable care act, and more importantly look who saved it, Republican Senator John McCain.

Quick side note: Why is it that we have Universal health care for prisoners but can’t figure a way to provide it for every other American?  Better yet, why is it always the lack of money which seems to be the excuse for not saving peoples lives but there is an unlimited about spent on bombs and weapons of war to kill people?  But let me get back to this topic.

I’ve hesitated on writing politically because so many people are already doing it and I’ve somewhat detached myself to try to stay focused on the bigger picture with my spiritual perspective with all things.  When I said to my mother, “God must have wanted Trump to be president”, I saw that her faith and belief in an all loving God begin to falter, and that’s the last thing the Gangster Turned Guru intended to do and what inspired me to write this piece.

Currently, there are protests over Confederate statues, some for them and some against them.  Donald Trump made it perfectly clear where he stands on the issue.  Who’s surprised?  I’m not.  It’s comical when the argument is made that the Confederacy is part of our history, which is true, but a statue or a confederate flag is honoring that history.

Why is it that Germany doesn’t have statues of Hitler in state parks or streets and colleges named after him?  Is Adolf Hitler not part of Germany’s history?  Why is it that there is only one African American museum dedicated to the history of slavery, yet there are over 50 museums dedicated to the Holocaust that didn’t even take place in America, well the Jewish holocaust didn’t but the American Indian holocaust did and I’m not even sure what the number of holocaust museums dedicated to that atrocity is, if any at all.  What about that history?   The Confederate flag, statues and all that the Confederacy represents is a silent acknowledgment and honoring of an institution of oppression which still exist, although it’s cleverly veiled from most.

Many thought that the institution of oppression was gone once Barrack Obama got elected, but those that are really conscious couldn’t be lulled back to sleep so easily, but enough of us were.

It’s still a shock to some that Donald Trump is the president, but his presidency is not a mystery to me.  This experience of Trumpism is necessary for our countries unfoldment in representing who we are.  The spirit of one’s character is revealed in one’s personality.  The protesters marching, CEO’s resigning from Trump’s cabinets and Republican Senators speaking out against their own party all reflect a unifying indication of morals and principals that this concept of America is supposed to represent.

We are one nation under God and the collective consciousness of our Nation will attract the experience to match the predominant mental attitude of our ideas.

To think that an eight year Obama administration would wipe clean the slate of the effects and consequences over two hundred years of institutionalized oppression has caused, is idiotic.

So when I told my unconditional loving mother that I was glad Trump is president, it’s not because I believe in any of his policies or the character he’s displayed, it’s that he continues to inadvertently reveal the core mental attitude of an overwhelming portion of this country.

Unlike my mother, I’m able to maintain my peace of mind with Donald Trump being President, mainly because I never lose sight of the fact that we come from One God who’s ultimately in control and allowed Trump to be President for a reason.

Listen, I’m the first to admit that I’ve disagreed with the way God has done things a number of times in my life, but looking back from who I was to who I am now, I’m able to recognize the infinite Source of life was always in control.

President Trump is the ultimate wake up call, for those that have eyes to see and ears to hear.

We each have a personal responsibility to respond accordingly.  By maintaining positive, peaceful, constructive thoughts we’ll attract the experience that reflects our inner mental attitude.

God is good, which means there is always more good than bad in people.  Not only in Donald Trump because he is just one man, but also the abundance of good in the ones he represents.  There is always a silent power behind all things that attract the results of our thoughts and ideas.  So, if our dominate inner attitude is to be at peace, more harmonious with all people, not just Democrats or Republicans, but with humanity as a whole, reflecting that helpful, joyful nature, then by the year 2020, we should be cheering “Michelle Obama for President!!”

Eddie K. Wright, AKA The Gangster Turned Guru.

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Sister/Publisher Mimi Here…

I know it’s been a while since you’ve heard from Author Eddie K. Wright or myself but let me assure you that he has been hard at work on his next release “Gangster Turned Guru Presents: The Evolution of A Gangster Turned Guru!” As I’m reading through his next book, I’m often amazed at the memories my ‘little’ brother sparks in my mind! Memories of a childhood where we shared every experience while at the same time experienced life so differently!

Most of the memories bring a smile to my face and an uncontrollable laugh to my belly. Some bring a tear to my eye and a lump of sadness in my throat.  Others then give me a clearer understanding of why I do some of the things I do as a parent.

After reading a part of the chapter titled:  “The Beginning” I was filled with a sense of peace regarding a decision I made as a new mother that I KNOW was a direct result of my mother’s belief system!

I’m not saying I had the best discipline rituals with my boys (now aged 16, 18 and 19 with no behavior problems) but… Before I gave birth to my first child I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would NEVER ‘beat’ my children.  I made it very clear to my (ex) husband that neither would he or anyone who came in contact with my children.

Now I know why…

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…My childhood years were spent growing up in the suburbs of Smithtown Long Island where I realized early in life, I was on the ‘only’ list for a number of things. We lived on Twilight Lane where my sister Mimi and I were the ‘only’ kids without a father living at home. We were the ‘only’ black population in this town and probably for the next two towns over so Mimi was always over protective, being three years my senior. I was the ‘only’ one who had a sister who beat up the strongest boy on the block. We were the ‘only’ ones who’s hair little white kids were asking to touch like exotic animals that they previously read about and actually were able to pet.

When my mother would drop me off at school, I was the ‘only’ one asked by other kids if I was adopted and looked upon with such disbelief when I answered: “No, that’s my real mom.”

“But she’s white and your black” was the all too familiar response.

This was another subject added to the ‘only’ list. My sister and I were the ‘only’ mixed kids. Even the other two or three minority children at school had both parents of the same ethical background.

My mother was raised Irish Catholic in the same house we grew up in, nurtured in the hippie generation of love, peace, and happiness. She did her best to create a loving environment by herself from when my sister was three and I was just two months old. That’s when she finally had the strength to choose to change the direction of her life for the best by divorcing my father who I only saw a few weeks out of the summer. But even with such a limited time shared with him, he was still my hero. Big, strong, bald and black as the night. He always made me feel like I was the light of his world when my sister and I would visit him eight hours away in Rochester, NY.

I loved my summer vacations when spending time with my father’s side of the family and although I still felt some of those ‘only’ list effects, it was a different type of ‘only’. Now I’m the ‘only’ one with such good hair or the ‘only’ one with such a nice red bone complexion.

When living with my mother it was always a struggle for her to make ends meet and compared with everyone else in our town, we were considered pretty poor. But up in Rochester, I experienced what real poverty was like. Not so much with my father who had a good job and a decent place to live, even if it was for a period of time in a trailer on the grounds of the industry juvenile prison where he worked as a guard. It was when he took us to our grandmothers in the city or any one of my 18 aunts and uncles houses, that at a young age I realized how much my mother provided on her own.

In all our years of visiting my father, my sister and I were only allowed to stay over my favorite Aunt Linda’s house because she was married to my Uncle Eddie who together provided a beautiful home, was successful, heavy into the church and the only one who gained my mother’s trust.

My mother’s wrath concerning her kids was well known as my father once made a crucial mistake when he got an unexpected call into work when I was five years old and left me in the care of some girlfriend he had. At the end of the day, around 4:30 p.m. he pulled up to the curb and found me sitting on the front porch, bottom lip puffed out, eyebrows scrunched together and my arms wrapped around my chest. He knew something was wrong.

Normally, when he comes home from work, as soon as he steps out of his van, I’m running arms outstretched to be picked up, hugged and covered with a barrage of kisses. As I stomped towards him, chest rising from my deep pouts he asked: “Eddie what’s wrong?”

The floodgate of tears took over as I started breathing faster, trying to get the words out to express the cardinal sin that had taken place.

“Son,” he said bending and lifting me giving a reassuring hug. “It’s all right just tell me what happened.”

Placing me back down, I looked up with my light brown tear filled eyes and said “She whipped me with a switch!” pointing my accusing finger towards the house.

Whether it was panic, fear or both I don’t know. I don’t even remember what it was that I did and my father didn’t care. All I recall was that he stormed into the babysitter’s house raising all hell and no matter what justification she gave for whipping me with a switch, my father wasn’t trying to hear it. All I heard him yelling was ” When his mother finds out she’s going to kill me!!”

On my fathers side of the family, seeing my cousins get in trouble and being told to go out back and get a thin branch off a tree to make into a switch to get beat with was normal, but it was a well known fact that no matter what my sister or I did, we are not to be physically disciplined by anyone, my father included.

For my mother to hear that her five year old baby boy was beaten with a switch, would produce images in her mind of me being strapped up and whipped like the man in the beginning of the movie Roots. Mom enforced a non-violent, unconditional loving environment which she expected to be honored…

~Eddie K. Wright

I remember people throughout my young parenting years (INCLUDING MY BROTHER) telling me… “You need to spank/beat him.” Or, “One good whoopin’ will fix that little attitude.”  I’m honored to say that I stood behind my mother’s style of discipline in this regard.  My children have never known what it felt like to be hit with a switch, a stick, a spoon or a belt.  I firmly believe NO CHILD needs that kind of discipline.  My children prove that to me every day!  I’m not the greatest mother and they are not the perfect children but… but we are perfect for each other and physical violence was NEVER a part of our lives!  Thank you Ma!  I love you!  Thank you Ed… For reminding me!

Thank you for reading.  You’ll be hearing more from Eddie very soon!

Big Sister Mimi

Feature Spotlight in P.A.R.C. Mag

Click cover to follow to my interview

I was honored to be interviewed by KC Loesener, CEO, and founder of P.A.R.C. Magazine.  

Their July 2017 issue is highlighting discovery and focus’ on subject matters where others have dug deep and discovered something about themselves and overcame or brought certain challenges to light.

My book Voice For The Silent Fathers shares how I overcame my personal challenge of being a young father and street gangster who’s son was gay. 

Please take a few minutes to read the article and share with anyone you know might benefit from reading it. I would also love to hear your thoughts so please leave a comment. 

Click to purchase my book

…I thought my life was over

The writing process of my memoir “Voice for the Silent Fathers” was emotionally therapeutic, making the book a personal success by helping to heal the relationship between me and my son. The readers’ comments have been and continue to be very inspirational and I’m thankful for them all.

I have a few copies of “Voice for the Silent Fathers” circulating through the prison and a list of names of those next in line waiting to read it. Who would think that a book about a father’s struggle to accept his homosexual son would be competing with all the urban hood novels so popular in the penitentiary?

Having people I don’t really know mention certain intimate parts of my life or thoughts I’ve had that at one time I never expected to share took some getting used to. Everyone has a story of a sibling, nephew or uncle in their life that’s gay and after reading “Voice for the Silent Fathers” they were able to relate with many of my struggles and came to the same conclusion of what loving unconditionally really means.

Another rewarding gift which makes the book a success, are the conversations it stirs that has lead to the launching of The Voice for the Silent Fathers Talk Radio Show which will launch later this fall.  Not everyone holds the same point of view on topics but a healthy discussion is better than staying silent. Various issues that are challenging society today will be explored. (Subscribe to the channel here:  blogtalkradio.com/voiceforthesilentfathers)

In 2017, my publisher, The M Wright Group will be releasing “THE EVOLUTION OF A GANGSTER TURNED GURU” from the Gangster Turned Guru series, detailing my transformation upon discovering God’s unconditional love, the Universal laws, and the self-empowerment of consciously creating our experiences.

At a time when I thought my life was over, I was awakened to the truth and realized that my life had just begun. This insightful memoir is a journey of moral growth, ethical guidance and the spiritual enlightenment of a Gangster Turned Guru.

#voiceforthesilentfathers

#gangsterturedguru

#eddiekwright

Chattin’ it up with Ms. Jamie Timmons

jai-and-eddie

I was very excited to be asked for a follow-up interview with Ms. Jamie Timmons, Author and Owner of Matters of My Heart, an emotional support program for adult survivors of domestic violence and/or sexual assault.

This interview, more like a discussion between friends talks about Jamie’ thoughts on Voice for the Silent Fathers and how it’s impacted her life personally.  We also touch on my upcoming Gangster Turned Guru Presents series.

Grab a cup of coffee, sit back for the next 30 minutes and listen in.  Don’t forget to leave a comment and let me know what you think. “Chat It Up…”

Thank you,

Eddie K. Wright

#voiceforthesilentfathers

#gangsterturnedguru

#eddiekwright

#jaitheauthor

#mattersoftheheart

MAKING A CHANGE STARTS FROM WITHIN!

It’s all about how we think, how we respond and how we learn!

CLICK HERE TO READ ABOUT MY PERSONAL TRANSFORMATIONS:

VOICE FOR THE SILENT FATHERS:  MEMOIR

AVAILABLE IN E-BOOK $9.99 AND PAPERBACK $16.99

A DAY IN THE LIFE WITH COFFEE AND PARADISE

AVAILABLE IN E-BOOK $.99

 

#VOICEFORTHESILENTFATHERS

#GANGSTERTURNEDGURU

#EDDIEKWRIGHT

 

Excited to announce…

#1 Best Seller Cover

Just became a #1 Best Seller!

Download the e-book is available for FREE on  Amazon.com through Sunday, July 31, 2016

SYNOPSIS:  I am currently an inmate in a Federal Prison serving my 12th year of a 45-year sentence!  If I can find peace and happiness in this type of environment… How is it that people in the ‘free’ world can’t? What is it that I know or what woke me up? I’ve been asked these questions thousands of times and now, following a conversation I had with an inmate, who’s asked these and more,  I’m ready to share my thoughts on what I’ve learned with YOU!

#gangsterturnedguru

#voiceforthesilentfathers