FRESH ATTITUDES,INC.

Bio

There was a point in my life when…
I never thought I would have made it out of the hood. I didn’t want to!
“When you have lived the lifestyle of the inner city gang culture you have not yet lived.”

 

 

 

My life as a youngster was so distorted whereas it lead me into the fantasy of a dangerously violent criminal. My conscious awareness of whom I had become didn’t begin until afterward. I developed a tact to suppress any attempt by my conscious mind as to my moral values in life, by using PCP, Drugs and alcohol, my number one allies. As long as they were near to hand I had no problem expressing myself.

I spent over fifteen years of my life locked inside jails, and state prisons in California.

I grew up in a vicious cycle of cruelty, neglect, violence, child abuse, Drugs and crime. By the time I was five years old the idea of survival had began to be my sole theme, for existence was not certain. The environment which I was hopelessly trapped in seemed to say “Survive or Die, this I was certain. As I recall, fear consumed me at every turn in that tiny housing project apartment in East LA. This place seemed to always be dimly lit, as if real light was not permitted. There was also clutter, unidentified objects, objects that appeared dangerous. In my small mind every step had to be taken very carefully. I allowed fear to guide my small trembling feet. I could feel Danger lurking in this place somewhere waiting to leap onto me.

In the distance, I could see my mother lying on the floor. She looked like she was dead. I wanted to get close to her. Why was she on the floor like that, something was wrong? I began to scream “mama, mama what’s wrong, mama what’s wrong mama. I had to help her somehow. Something was wrong. As I stood there helplessly crying. I was suddenly over taken by a very forceful open hand slap across my face. “Muthafucka why you standing there crying like a little bitch. Get yo ass back in that room before I kick yo ass.” My mother said in a drunken slur.

My Grandmother always told me I was good boy, and always to pray to God for protection. I loved being around her whenever I could. We move around L.A a lot, and I didn’t get a chance to see her that often, but when I did my heart would be over joy. On one hand, my mother didn’t really like me going around my grandmother that often. “Boy, every time you go around mama, you come back here acting like yo shit don’t stank. Well I got news fo ya, this here is my house, and yo black ass belongs to me. I bought you black ass in this muthafucka, and I will take yo ass out. Now get yo ass in that room and take them good clothes off.”

I have to keep it real there is no other way around it. I have to kick the truth about what happen in my life experiences. I want to help some other poor soul out there that may think he has a chance at doing some of the dumb shit that I tried to come-up out there in those streets. I am no highly educated brother with a degrees that qualifies me to give advice or tell someone how to get down in there life. However, I do know that I have made a lot of mistakes out there. And I know how it feels to be sitting in a hole trying to find a way out. I know that I made it out of that hole and today I am living proof that you can make it if you make a conscious effort to do something different with your life. If I can made it, you can too!

I dig deep when it comes down to looking at my past life style. I do not pull any punches. It is a challenge including the shame associated with making mistakes in your life. Being judged is not the objective, but taking a stance that only the truth can truly set you free, the only true way to freedom is the truth.


I have paid my dues to society in terms of the justice system. Know you this, it is time to pay back what I took from my community, and to confess that I owe back to the community for my misdeeds. A community that I thought I loved so whole heartily.

A Community, where I was ready to lay down my life, and where I have saw so many potentially great individuals suffer horrendous acts of violence. I have contributed to the destruction of countless lives. Now I question that so-called love that I so proudly proclaimed in the name of the hood. Was it indeed love, again was I mislead again.

After surviving the streets of South Los Angeles, the jails and Prison of California, and the many drug epidemics over a period of thirty-five years, including the household of a drug addict teenage Mother, an absentee Father that was an adult who took advantage of children which lead to my existence, it is time to become a servant toward the endeavors of helping to build back a community.

Growing up in a world that appeared to not care whether I existed, and the love of people that were dealing with the same issues. To becoming a street gang member, drug dealer and violent criminal, I have survived vicious attacks upon my life, moreover, have been on my deathbed on more than one occasion. I have attempted to kill my so-call enemies and have so-call enemies attempted to kill me. I built a reputation as gangsta, which almost destroy me through Crack Cocaine, PCP and alcohol.

Today I speak openly about my life and I encourage other survivors to have the courage to pull their selves’ up from degradation to dignity.

Step in my zone to hear my story.