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