Today’s Seminar: What Kind Of Father Are You Choosing To Be?

Currently I’m in the Challenge Program, a modified therapeutic community that addresses drug and criminal thinking errors, here at USP Canaan. One of the requirements is actively participating with presenting personal seminars that are given on Tuesdays and Thursdays, after our initial morning meetings.

It’s difficult to stand up in front of roughly 100 fellow individuals and share intimate details of your life, especially in this environment of a level 7 maximum security penitentiary. The super tough ego persona is on steroids with a majority of the population, and although it’s toned down a few degrees in this “program unit”, the under current of the ‘convict code’ still has a vital presence.

So I understood why after handing in my brief summary for my first seminar to the treatment specialist for approval, I was called into her office because she has some concerns.

“Mr. Wright, you’re choosing to do your seminar on open-mindedness,” said Mrs. Cook, who’s about 4’8 in height, with short cropped blond hair and tattoos from her hands running up both arms with artwork representing a Buddhist types of philosophy, “and you struggled with open-mindedness when it pertained to accepting that your son is gay.”

I nodded my head as she continued, “I think the topic is great. I’m just concerned about,” she took a two second pause to find the right words, “your delivery because I don’t want you offending certain people,” she explained with raised eyebrows.

Of course I knew she was alluding to the homosexual activities that are prevalent in prison. “You don’t have to worry about anything Mrs. Cook,” I assured her, “I know to keep the discussion on me with ‘I statements’.”

“But are you sure you’re comfortable revealing that your son is gay? Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s honorable and courageous and you would think grown men would be able to…”

“Listen, Mrs. Cook,” I injected, “I know how to speak about this topic without offending anyone. I’m not ashamed of having a gay son. I published a memoir about our relationship. Trust me on this, you have nothing to worry about.”

She gave an elongated blink and slowly said “All right Wright,” as I turned and walked out of her office.

The fact that the treatment specialist felt she had to discuss her concerns with me revealing that I have a gay son was confirmation of how important bringing this taboo topic to light is. Fathers accepting and loving unconditionally their sons or daughters who are in the LGBTQ plus community is a critical element of being a good parent.

A fathers recognition of acceptance forms and shapes how the child values themselves. Being valued is essential to a child’s healthy mental growth and development. So I was invigorated approaching the microphone as this would be my first time speaking to an audience about how I became open-minded with accepting my son.

I can confidently say you really can’t get a tougher crowd then individuals with double digit football numbers and multiple life sentences.

When I spoke, I admitted that at times it was as if my son was raising me. Although it was a struggle, he taught me, sometimes forcing me to be open-minded and learn to truly love unconditionally.

When I finished my seminar, the process is to ask for ‘feed back’ from at least 3 members of the audience. More than 7 people quickly stood up and shared various experiences of family members and friends. But it was later that day when a few different fathers approached me privately with concerns about how they should navigate their relationships with their gay sons.

I acknowledged their fears and concerns while bringing to light that the issue isn’t that their child lives a LGBTQ plus lifestyle, the real question they must ask themselves is what type of fathers are they choosing to be?

Parenting From Prison

It’s hard being a parent from prison. Especially realizing the devastating effect the unforeseen consequences my actions had on my children, particularly Nia, who was only 45 days old when I got arrested over 17 years ago.

While my other children experienced “Dad” being home for birthday parties, Disney trips, soccer games and more, Nia was robbed of all those monumental memories.

I’ve worked hard to insure she knows her value as my daughter and as a strong black/Hispanic woman.
I’ve tossed and turned at night, fearing the “Daddy” issues she’d suffer because of my absence.

When we talk, she listens to me and I listen to her.

I always knew my older daughter Alexa would head to college because she was top notch in school and I was super proud when she recently graduated.

But Nia….reminding me so much of myself, I was content with negotiating her promise to graduate high school.
So when Nia told me that she finished writing her college application letter, I was overwhelmed with a mixture of emotions. When she told me she received her first college acceptance letter, I’ll admit I was a little surprised.

But I shouldn’t have been.

“Can you please send me this letter you wrote?” I asked Nia, after congratulating her for this achievement.

Dear reader, while sitting at the computer at a level 7 maximum penitentiary, reading Nia’s college letter, I found myself loosing the battle from the flood gate of tears and I cared not who saw.

I would like to share Princess Nia’s college application letter with you.

FROM MY DAUGHTER

Recent estimates show that 2.7 million US children have a parent who is incarcerated. Being a child of that statistic was and still is difficult, yet it doesn’t define me. My father was incarcerated before I was born. People say you can’t miss what you never had, but I never agreed with that. Even though I never spent a “typical day” with my dad I have spoken with him every day on the phone.
I grew up with my mother, grandmother, and older sister. They always told me to not discuss my father’s situation. I remember my mother always telling me, ¨nobody needs to know where your dad really is¨. What I was told about him was that he was a great father. He took in two of my older half-sisters and treated them as his own. To me he is a great father, but in a different way than they experienced. He always listens to me, and gives me fatherly advice. I understand him and he understands me. We have an unbreakable bond. As a little girl holding a big secret like that was hard for me. To see my friend’s fathers pick them up after school attending father-daughter dances and cheering their kids on at the winter concerts year after year. I always had this emptiness in my heart when I would see that because that was something I never experienced. Something I missed out on. Something I can never get back in life. This made me grow up faster. I learned how to deal with my emotions and become resilient no matter how difficult and challenging life is.
During my high school years, it became harder to face all the obstacles in my life not only with my father but being a Hispanic and black teenage girl in a predominantly Caucasian school. In 9th and 10th grade, I started making some decisions that could’ve turned me down a bad path. I started to become friends with people who did not care about my best interests. I was angry at the world I started not to think about the consequences of my actions. I was getting into fights in school, sneaking out and failing my classes, my family was always trying to put me in behavioral programs signing me up for outreach programs and therapy as if I couldn’t control my behavior fearing that I would end up like my dad, what they did not know is that I was acting out because I lost sight to everything that was important to me I guess u can say I was struggling with depression. After all those programs and sessions its started to become tedious and I started to regret making all those bad decisions I had made. As 11 grade started to creep up on me I knew that I needed to rethink how I want my future to unfold, how important it is try hard in school and get good grades because my future depends on it. I’m glad both me and my dad were able to bounce back from all situations no matter how big or how small. He achieved so much great things all while behind bars he is an author, published 2 books which were amazon’s best-selling, and was a mentor to other people who have yet to find their best selves in life. Seeing my father go over all those obstacles made me rethink my obstacles in life, there is always time to turn your life around no matter how difficult things can be, There is always a light at the end of the tunnel. You just have to figure out how to get there. Being accepted into college would really help me discover myself and who I wanna be in this world I want to serve a purpose in my life by helping people as much as I can just like my father is doing while he serves his sentence, and I hope I can do that with the career pursue, I want to make my father proud show him that just because he wasn’t there for me I turned out okay and that I’m doing everything I can to succeed in life the right way. I want to show my family that I am in fact my father’s daughter just like him, I did make mistakes during my 9th and 10th grade but those mistakes do not define me as the person i am today.

The best Christmas in 14 years!

Dec 30, 2018 at 11:36 AM

It was way too long. 

Over a decade since I had last seen my son. 

The fault was mainly mine. 

In his later, teenage wild out years, I couldn’t and didn’t want to risk my out spoken, take no shit, quick to throw a snap back to anyone that dares to make a disrespectful under the breath comment about his lifestyle. 

He proudly defends his crown of me labeling him the gayest man on earth. 

So for him to come to visit me at Canaan, one of the most violent penitentiaries in America, wasn’t a good idea for a number of different reasons at that time. 

Our weekly phone calls would have to do. 

Christmas 2018 happened to fall on a Tuesday this year, when I get my visits here at MDC Brooklyn where I’m still waiting to hear the outcome of my appeal. 

My son, along with his sister Nia and my mother were coming to visit. 

In our recent phone conversations, I asked him not to get too emotional with the tears. 

Drew of course, sticking to his true form, denied my request. 
“I’m just a very emotional person and I won’t be able to hold it back,” said with a flamboyancy I had no choice but to accept. 

Walking through the visiting room door, a surprised lump caught my throat as I laid eyes on my son, looking like he stepped off the cover of the GQ magazine. 

While he kept his cool, it was I that was struggling to hold back the flood of tears as we embraced and I gave my son a kiss. 

The time flew by and after another strong hug and kiss goodbye, I gave the same to my mother and daughter, then doubled back for a third hug and kiss, thanking Drew for this incredible gift to end the year with.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Father/Daughter Talks… Priceless!

Dec 8, 2018 at 12:37 PM

The wailing moan of grief and distress from the phone receiver gouged at my heart. 
Weeping tears, sobs of sorrow while gasping from breath between the utterances of half spoken words, making no sense at all, caused my mind to kick into over-drive of worse case scenarios. 

“Is my mother all right?” I asked. 
No cognitive answer, more groaning and sniffles. 

“Sweetheart, calm down, take a deep breath and tell dad what’s wrong.” 
Between another fit of whimpering she managed to utter, ” I just don’t know what to do!!” 
Followed by a renewed lamentation of bawling tears. 

“Do about what, Honey?” I asked, struggling to keep a comforting tone, attempting to suppress the dramatic thoughts racing through my mind. “Please!” I begged to my 14 year old daughter Nia, “Just tell me what’s happen,” triggering another ten minute bout of groaning moans of sobs, giving way to an additional round of tears and sniffles. 

Finally she took the deep controlled breath and announced the cause of this dismal condition, “Blake moved out of state and I didn’t get to say good bye!” she cried and the water works continued. 

Blake the Snake. 
That’s what I called my daughters first little boyfriend. 

He reminded me too much of myself and that isn’t always a good thing. 
Now just like me when I kept getting in trouble in school, he got sent to another state until he got his act together.  
I can’t lie…there was that side of me that was ecstatic!! 

Blake’s little ass was finally outta here!! 
But I kept that to myself, knowing what we adults call puppy love is as real as it gets to my daughter and her broken heart. 

So in comforting daddy mode, I assured her it will be all right, allowed her to cry all she wanted, related to her hurt and pain and attempted to sooth her sadness. 
I’m glad she knows that she can always cry to me and that no matter what she will forever be daddies little girl.

#gangsterturnedgurupresents

#eddiekwright

Gangster Turned Guru Presents: Chapter Excerpt: Love Sick

“Unable to disguise the impact of Maria’s news when I walked in the unit, my friend Twin, wasn’t far behind me after I went into my cell to sulk.  Twin’s called my bigger little brother, who’s been my work out partner since he arrived at Canaan from Lewisburg about a week after I did.  At 5’9, he was tipping the scale at 260 pounds back then, but after a few months of working out hard together six days a week, he dropped down to 215 pounds.  Although he still struggled with a sweet tooth, that he’s had since childhood, like the blue cookie monster from Sesame Street, he’s one of the few people that survive my militant boot camp style encouragement to make it through some very tough workouts.

Twin grew up in Pittsburg P.A., and in 2002, got sentenced to 20 years for possession of a few dime bags of crack cocaine.  Before going to the gym each morning, we spend about 10-15 minutes having positive spiritual talks to start the day off with the right attitude.

When I began writing, Twin was the first one I would read my chapters out loud to and I trusted him with my first rounds of edits, which helped him gain a clearer insight by carefully reading what I wrote.  We always look out for each other’s best interest in all situations.

“YO!” he said, walking in without knocking, finding me already under my covers with the blanket pulled over my head.

“Yooooooooo!” I moaned.

“What’s wrong?  How was the visit?” he asked.

Peeking out from under the covers, teary-eyed, letting out a deep sigh, I said, “Maria has left the building! She’s had enough.”

“Enough of what?”

“Of this, doing the bid,” I explained.

“She’s leaving you?”

“She’s left. It’s done. Over. I could see it in her eyes.”

Shaking his head, pulling up the chair and sitting down, both of us quiet for a couple of seconds, he then asked, “What about your daughters?”

“My mother will bring them,” I answered slowly climbing out from under the covers still fully dressed.

“Eddie, you already know what it is.  It’s not ‘if’ they’re going to leave, it’s ‘when’ they’re going to leave.”  Twin repeated his mantra, stemming from his own broken heart.

“Nah, I know. I’ve been here before. It’s part of doing time.”

I was hurt, mad, angry, not eating, hardly sleeping and foreboding locking in at night when all I could do was lie in bed with excruciating images of Maria in the arms of another man, agonizing my aching heart.  It was the first time I felt vulnerable to slipping back into my gangster ways.  There were moments I felt like exploding, but didn’t and maintained my self-control.

After a month immersed with these tormenting thoughts and images, I realized more than ever that I needed to continue to practice what I’ve been preaching by consciously staying in control of what I thought about.   Once I caught my self-thinking negatively or feeling sorry for myself, I’d find an activity to take my attention to something positive.  Normally it was working out, which I was doing three or four times a day for at least an hour and a half each period.  I was writing more and at night I always had two or three books on the table next to my bed to read myself to sleep.  I brought a book light so I could read without disturbing my celli, which helped me to quickly fall back to sleep.

I choose to be patient with myself, knowing from prior experiences that the hurt and pain of a broken heart would heal in time.  By continuing to be kind, friendly, helpful and honest, I attracted the same to my experience when I most needed it.”

The Clock is Ticking

My daughter Nia, is in her 2nd month of high school and with all the worries of drugs, drinking, and of course these no good boys….there’s another internal clock of worry ticking in my mind, one that the parents of past generations didn’t have to fathom…..the possibility of our child’s school being next in line for a mass shooting.
Last year taught us it’s not “if” there’s going to be another school shooting, but “when”.

To have to tell my 13-year-old daughter, to jump out the nearest window should she ever hear gunshots, even if she’s on the second floor, isn’t me being irrational. What’s irrational is that nothing has been done to curb the chances of it happening again. No new laws passed, no ban on automatic weapons, as a matter of fact, I haven’t heard either political party really mentioning school shootings or gun control recently and I’m an avid a.m. talk radio listener.

With the constant bombardment of breaking news, having distraction after distraction, the slaughter of our children at schools seems to be thought of like something from the past. But that alarm clocks going to rings off and the next mentally disturbed kid with easy access to an AR-15 is going to remind us that we got caught sleeping.

It’s unfortunate that the time is coming, all I can do is pray it’s not at my daughter’s school and then rest the clock since it’s bound to happen again. Tick Tock!

Let that be a reason for you to get out and VOTE!

#gangsterturnedgurupresents

#voiceforthesilentfathers

#eddiekwright

Excerpt, The Evolution of a Gangster Turned Guru: The Resurrection

Everything I learned, revealed divine consciousness is God dwelling within and outside of us.  The good and the bad, the hot and the cold, all of it is God.  By putting things in that context, I didn’t have to know and understand everything. I was working on living with more trust and appreciation of the process by allowing moments to unfold.

I heard a story on the news which helped me stay grateful for all that I had and kept life in the proper perspective.

A young mother had just left church on Easter Sunday, in the Bronx with her family and had her young baby boy less than two years old, strapped in his car seat.

A stray bullet traveled through the back door, killing her son.

Situations like this used to be my justification for why there can’t be a God.  On what level did the Universal laws get activated to bring that experience about?  I believe God is in control. But hearing stories like that at times – wasn’t convincing.

Nia, my youngest child, was close to that same age when the story broke.  I couldn’t imagine the suffering that the family was experiencing.  I wanted that child’s life to not be a random act of violence.  I used that incident to realize how blessed I am to be able to see my daughters every week, kissing and holding them in my arms, even if it’s only for an hour in the crowded visiting room.

I’m sure that the child’s mother would change situations with me, no hesitation involved, happy to be facing 45 years, as long as her baby boy was alive.  I decided then on that I would never complain about being in prison.  I’ve experienced how important the right attitude was dealing with difficult situations that were ultimately based on your perception and faith.

“If only someone would have explained to me then, what I’ve now come to learn,” I thought, looking out on the unit, seeing impressions of myself at earlier stages in life when I had a gangster mentality, convinced I knew it all.

EXCERPT: The Evolution of a Gangster Turned Guru: The Real O.G.

“”I’ve condemned myself to hell on earth,” I thought.

Not only am I indicted for a drug conspiracy, but I was under investigation for extortion, a string of burglaries and armed robberies connected to a crooked Suffolk County cop, a group of shady lawyers and one of the Mafia’s five organized crime families.

When Erick Sermon went head first out a fourth-floor window, I was the first person called.   My crew had a reputation to dish out street justice.  There was no aspect of this gangster lifestyle I didn’t participate in.

That first year of incarceration, was one dramatic court hearing after another.  Each taking a toll on my mother. When she learned that my friends were cooperating with the government against me, she took matters into her own hands.

Mom walked quietly but carried a big stick.

My mother had a reputation of her own in the streets.

The district attorney learned that Mamma Wright was in Gestapo mode and brought it to the judge’s attention at the end of my hearing.

“Your honor, there’s one last issue I would like to address, concerning the defendant’s mother,” the prosecutor said pointing to my mother in the courtroom.

John, turned around with raised eyebrows, looking at my mom who smiled, shrugged her shoulders, listening to what was said.

“What’s your concern?” the Judge asked.

“We’ve received information that Mrs. Wright has confronted a number of potential witnesses and we would ask the Court to advise her to stop.  She’s attempting to obstruct justice.”

My mother kept smiling.

Then the Judge addressed her directly, “Mrs. Wright, although the Court does understand a mother’s love for her son, please cease contact with witnesses involved in this case.  Interfering with a federal investigation is a serious crime. Please allow your sons’ lawyer, who I’m sure has a licensed investigator, address any issues that have any significance to this case.”

“O.k.,” my mother said, nodding her head, still smiling at me as I was lead out of the courtroom.

That evening, I was unexpectedly called down for a legal visit.”

#gangsterturnedgurupresents

#eddiekwright

#theevolutionofagangsterturnedguru

#Launch2019

An open letter to all fathers.

As we approach another Fathers Day. I wanted to share a few words, hoping other fathers don’t make the same mistakes I have.

Open Letter To All Fathers

An Open Letter to My Daughter Lexi!

Lexi

I was nervous when Drew said you wanted to talk, and passed the phone years ago. You had every right to be upset with me for not reaching out and allowing all the other drama in my life, affect our relationship.

But you were just as happy as me that we’ve reconnected, continually showing loving support.

You’ve grown into an amazing young lady, shocking me with your articulate insight and dreams of the future.

You, out of all of my children, send me the most pictures and e-mail messages (although you’ve been slacking lately) ijs.

You’ve overcome many obstacles and challenges at such a young age that there’s no doubt in my mind, you’ll achieve all your goals in the future.

I have this picture of you and Drew, hugging one another, barefoot on the beach, both with huge smiles and it reminds me of how lucky I am that you were there for each other at times when I should have been there for the both of you.

I’m blessed and grateful for having you in my life and for forgiving me so easily.

Love always, Dad.