Corrections Officer inconsistency - Mother of an Incarcerated Son

Today started off great, like any other visitation day. I am always in high spirits when it comes to seeing my son. There is not a care in the world on visitation day except the careful thought you have to give on what to wear. You would think that what's on the DOC list is it but NO it is not. I have a part of my closet that I go to when I visit. I choose these garments because I haven't had any issues on prior visits and I have pictures to prove such. Today was different though. Visitation issues are like Russian roulette ... you never know what you are going to get until the trigger is pulled meaning what crew will be at the front search area to decide who comes in and who does not.

I have never worn sweats to visitation. I don't even own any sweats ... well, after today's issue I do now. I was well dressed in my opinion. My pants were fitting, as they always are, dressy pussy bow tie shirt with a pair of ankle booties. I had on a skully and matching scarf as well. I will say I was unsure about the hat and scarf but the outfit has been worn for visitation so I was not concerned about that. I've learned that I should have been.

Upon arrival to Baker C.I. my daughter and I walk in, chipper and cheerful as always. I had not even gotten in the door good before I am told my pants are too tight. The C.O. behind the glass says "HOLD UP ... LET HER KEY IN!" I do the key pad thing and turn to the young lady and ask how are my pants too tight when I have worn them to previous visits? We exchange words, nothing horrible, just engaging in conversation about my pants when the supervisor comes out. None of this crew looks familiar. She tells me I can't wear my hat or scarf and I need to change the pants. She also tells me there is a Dollar General up the road where I can get something to wear. I immediately got an attitude ... a bad attitude. I did not appreciate being told to change when I had worn the pants before nor did I want to get anything from Dollar General. I knew they would NOT have anything to match my top or ankle booties so I would have to purchase a new top, bottom AND shoes.

I told my daughter to go on back and let her brother know what happened. I would sit in the car because I had not planned on spending money on an outfit I would probably never wear again. My daughter was NOT hearing it. She truly acts as if she is my mother sometimes. Needless to say I spent $28 in that store to see my son. That was an unplanned expense and I was not happy BUT I am thankful for growth and controlling the controllable is what had to be done if I wanted to see my son.

I changed at the Dollar General, upon walking into the prison I apologized to the staff for my anger and expressed how nice it would be if all search area staff operated by the same rules. I shouldn't be allowed to wear this with one staff and then be denied by another. I know by the looks on most of the faces that it fell on deaf ears but the two who heard and listened to me expressed how nothing was wrong with my outfit and that I was right ... they need to be consistent at the door because there were others in there that had on clothing tighter than mine. They were right about that too but again I say CONTROL THE CONTROLLABLE. All in all it turned out to be a great visit even though we could not take pictures because they were out of film. I have learned that not all things are meant to be captured physically, just enjoy the mental memories ... I will definitely be doing that.

Love your journey - #Locdfor50

Hello Loc fam and other beautiful people. This past Saturday was such an awesome hair day. One of the African customers at my job, a very good friend and one of my online sister friends made my entire day. They all complimented me so passionately on my loc journey. My heart was smiling and I felt great. It has not been a full month yet, 10/26 is the month mark, and I have so much new growth already.

I swear, that whole ugly stage that everyone spoke/speaks of does not seem it exist for me. I am sure it is all in how you own your journey. And to think, I truly considered having loc extensions installed. I am so glad I did not. I am not knocking them at all, everyone's journey is different but doing it this way seems so much more fulfilling.

I know one thing, had anyone told me this loc life was so dope I would have joined it years ago. Well, at least by the fourth year of my eight year natural journey which has also been awesome.

I will do my first re-twist after my month mark. I can not wait to see my growth. I am excited.

There is NO ugly stage - #Locdfor50

I used to ask my barber all the time how do these young men get these full heads of healthy looking hair and he said "they leave it alone." I did not quite get it at first because I am thinking the scalp must be moist and hair follicles stimulated for growth and the hair attended to for the prevention of breakage. It was not until I began this loc journey that I overstood what he told me. It has not been a full month since my coils were done yet there is so much growth in the bush (my old teenie weenie afro saying)!! I simply water my hair like flowers with the best oils, retwist where I see needed and try my best to leave them alone otherwise. My daughter fusses at me constantly, like SHE'S the mother, about keeping my hands out of my head. It is hard but I am getting the hang of it because the more I leave it alone, the more it grows.

I can not contain my excitement for these starter locs. I remember thinking "I don't want to go through the ugly stage" and wanted to get loc extensions installed. (see previous blog - Loc'd for 50) After researching that option and finding out 1.) human hair MEANT HUMAN HAIR and 2.) how costly it would be for installations I abandoned that idea and possibly the idea of ever taking on the loc journey. I was NOT paying that kind of money to get some strangers hair installed into my head not knowing who they were or how they lived. A persons energy is EVERYTHING TO ME! Surprisingly, as I take this journey, I have come to realize there is NO ugly stage! I mean, how could there be? There is nothing ugly about me so how can I go through that type of thing, right? It is just me embracing this journey as it is and all that it involves.

I am a part of a group, Lady Locs Matter, on Facebook. That group provides so much information regarding the loc transition that even in my frizziest moments, my coils unraveling, and all out hair chaos I am trusting the process. My daughter, who has long gorgeous locs, also aides me in this journey. Want to see her?

Ok, I guess I can post another picture showing her loc length. (inserts proud mom smile) They hang mid-way down her back.

This was the day she installed the coils for me. Look at the difference 3 weeks has made!! You can refer back to the first picture in the blog also.

I wish I had taken a picture with a coil stretched out on the first day so a true comparison can be seen. The 'hang time' is definitely different and these things actually move a little bit when I swing my head. I may have to swing it with some force but they are swaying nonetheless.

The enjoyment of this journey goes far beyond what I thought it would be and to think it is JUST beginning. For those of you feeling a way about that ugly stage I encourage you to bring forth EVERY beautiful aspect of yourself so that you can truly see there IS no ugly stage, just a process we must trust in order to get the results we want.

My Toughest Assignment - Mother of An Incarcerated Son

I had not seen my Sun since April. Six months is far too long to go without seeing his face. That drought ended at around 10 o'clock on Saturday, October 12th. I had been unable to see him due to transportation. I am thankful to the Most High that my daughter relocated back to Jacksonville. It has made several things a lot easier in that regard. Every day with them I am reminded how tough of an assignment parenthood is.

I never truly thought about what it meant to be a mother when I conceived my children. I put no thought to what it would take to raise them, how cruel the world could be, what if they take a wrong turn nor how much selflessness would be involved. My only thought was that I would have a little person who belonged to me to love on and raise as my mother, grandparents and great-grandparents did for me. Growing up, I was a bit of a trouble maker, not with the law kind of trouble but that defiant, mouthy girl that stayed in trouble. I was once asked why do I do the things I do and my response was "the bible says we are not promised tomorrow so I need to do everything I can think of today." I still feel that way to be honest. (chuckles and shrugs) They always reminded me that I should respect and honor my elders because what I do will come back on me 10 fold when I have children. Of course, it did not hit me just how true that statement would turn out to be, not until my Sun started getting in trouble.

I recently wrote an apology letter to my children (see previous blog). Parenthood does not come with a how to manual so how I raised mine was a reflection of how I was raised. As I stated in that blog, I had an awesome childhood with lots of love and would not change it for anything. What I had to come to grips with is the fact that I did not have to emulate every part of it, meaning the discipline. I feel I was too hard on my children, more so my Sun, which could have caused him to go astray as he did. I won't dwell on that but as I reflect I know this has been my toughest assignment in life.

This is not my Sun's first rodeo behind those prison walls unfortunately. I told him if he ever went back the support I provided the first time would be significantly different. I provided $100 or more monthly and visited once monthly sometimes more if possible. I was very vocal with his Classification Officer and vocalizing displeasure to the administration. What's funny, for lack of better words, is how that decision seems to effect me worse than him. The past six months not being able to see him has taken a lot out of me. I don't believe any inmate should go without visits and love from family. That is a huge part of rehabilitation for them, mentally and emotionally in my opinion.

So to say the least, Saturday's visit was perfect and right on time. His daughter Divine and her mother joined us. He did not know they were coming so to see his mother, sister and now his daughter made him so happy. I watched him smile and be a father to a beautiful little girl who's first words when she saw him were "look mommy, I found my daddy!" That was the SWEETEST thing ever.

This time around has brought a change about in me, a good one I feel. It has placed something in me that wants to work on prison reform and possibly get my Sun involved. I am not sure what part of politics that is but I intend to find out. I also want to volunteer more. That selflessness I feel as a mother I now want to give to others not directly related to me. I believe, this time around, this is what I was meant to be shown. I see my toughest assignment has a tough assignment attached to it. Everything happens for a reason and I am ready ... I AM READY!

Find the blessing in the lesson - Mother of an Incarcerated Son

I was just speaking with a dear friend about the Guyger/Botham verdict. We were discussing the "hug and forgive" moment that has gone viral. If you are unaware of the moment let me help you out: the brother of the murdered embraced the killer in the courtroom and stated on the stand "I wasn't going to say this in front of my family or anyone, but I don't even want you to go to jail." Not only did he hug her but so did the judge. This entire conversation brought out quite a few feels. You see, my friend has a slain son and I have an incarcerated son.

Our sons situations are totally unrelated cases but our conversations included them. When my son was home I prayed daily, multiple times a day, that his life was never taken and that he never came to a place where he would have to take a life. That was always a fear of mine. Whenever I heard police sirens I immediately felt sick to my stomach. I know I am not alone in this.

As she and I conversed, she said something that I have said to my son and reminded myself of on many occasions. THIS, in itself, is a reason that I and any parent of an incarcerated child, should be thankful, grateful even.

She said to me and I quote "I pray you NEVER have to endure the pain of burying a child. I always told all 3 of my boys I'd rather VISIT you than BURY you." Although I don't like that my child is locked up, I recognize it for the blessing it is. The Most High kept me sane by allowing me to still see, talk to and even physically visit my child and his grave site. In speaking to my friend, hearing the pain of having buried a child in our conversation, I am reminded I was spared the pain she endures every day. I tell myself as I go through this current phase in my live that I am still able to share moments with my child where so many others can not. I had to find the blessing in the lesson.

Loc'd for 50

So yea, I did a thing. Actually, my daughter did a thing for me. I had been talking about loc'ing but I was also procrastinating heavily about it. First I said I wanted to let my hair grow longer but the more I saw my growing afro I wanted to go sit in my barbers chair and get another BIG CHOP! This would be my 4th or 5th, I can't keep up.

Then I said I wanted loc extensions BUT when my loctician told me to purchase human hair, well, that ended that idea. You see, I am BIG on energy and my not knowing who this human hair once belonged to vexxed me. I needed to know how this person lived. Did they take care of themselves? Did they smoke, drink or do any type of drugs? What type of things were they into period. I did NOT want any negative energy tied to my soon to be growing locs so THAT was out.

And then, and then and then, and then ... I could go on but all the "and then" did was cause major delays in the process. I said I wanted to get these loc's going during my #Journeyto50 and at the rate I was going it wasn't going to happen. I have to thank my daughter DeeDee for pushing the gas pedal on this process. She sat down and coiled my hair for me so I could see how I'd like this stage. I hear so many people talk about the ugly stage and for me, that could only be the extra short starter locs.

I've seen so many young men, some grown men too, walking about with those wicks in their heads. They truly look like little candle wicks and I was NOT going to do that but once she was done and I fine tuned a few pieces I FELL IN LOVE!! Want to see?

Listen, ALL I need now is an AWESOME eyebrow makeover! I will have that done sooner than later but let me hear what you all think about my starter locs. I am excited to begin this journey. September 16, 2011 is my natural hairversary and now September 26 will be my locversary. I have been transitioning in a major way these past 2 years. Enjoy this part of the journey with me. Maybe I'll inspire you to join me. #LocNation

A letter to my Children - I Apologize

The hashtag #GrowingUpBlack was trending really hard a few years back. These same memes, with a few new add ins, resurface around the holidays via social media and when we get together with family and friends. Anyone approximately 35 years old and up laugh and joke about the joy of being raised in a black family with comical emphasis on the disciplinary part. I remember the days of picking out our own switch. It had better not be a bad one because if the elder had to go pick one it would not be good for you. It quickly escalated from picking the switch to counting how many welts you now have all over your arms and legs or any part that was hit.

We laugh about being disciplined by whatever an elder could get their hands on - race track parts, shoes with or without heels, wooden fork or spoon off grandma's kitchen wall, cooking spatula, belt with a big buckle, backside of hand, etc. God forbid you actually dodged the disciplinary tool of choice because that glare of death you were sure to get was almost worse than the hit itself. YOU KNEW YOU WERE REALLY GOING TO GET IT!!

This is just one of many stories we share with each other. We then justify these actions by saying "but we turned out alright, didn't we?" Or "we didn't die!" I spoke on and laughed about it just like everyone else, that is until I was blessed with grandchildren. My daughter sent me this post a few weeks back and I laughed at first but then I became very sad.

Yes, I am that grandmother that will get angry if you even speak of disciplining my grandchildren. Nothing they could do would warrant putting a hand on them.

That thought process all seemed okay until I had to ask myself, why weren't my own children afforded that same courtesy? My children, more so my son, caught everything about the #GrowingUpBlack disciplinary part, to include the yelling. He caught it because I caught it and passed it on to him. I thought this was the way it was supposed to be. Why didn't my daughter get it? She learned what not to do by watching her brother so she stayed clear of corporal punishment, just like my younger sister.

This meme is such a perfect depiction of what growing up the oldest child is like. It sucks being the 'parenting guinea pig' for parenting rules. It sucks getting punished for everything of which your younger siblings will NEVER be punished. It sucks catching all of the younger siblings punishment because "you're the oldest, you are supposed to set the example!" What a crock of bull! If I heard that once I heard it one million times. Unfortunately, so did my son.

You know that old phrase "spare the rod, spoil the child"? This is a phrase I heard often as we were raised in a family that lived in church. Most of my life I thought this phrase was biblical but not too long ago read it is not. Yes Proverbs 13:24 does say "He who spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him disciplines him diligently." The explanation given does not mean to physically strike a child but to lead and guide with the rod like the Shepherd did to their flock when they steered off course. It is said they did not hit the sheep but merely use the rod to guide them back on the right path. I am not here to teach but I wanted to drop that small tidbit in here. Not knowing this at the time I became a young mother, I simply knew I didn't want my children to be the spoiled ones so I did what I was subliminally taught to do. I was not told to hit my children at any point in life but your only lessons on parenthood comes from how you were raised for the most part. Do NOT get it twisted, I had a GREAT life ... would not change a thing about it but what I would change is how I raised my own children.

I would have the same thought process that I now have when it comes to my grandchildren. I would change how I respond to the disobedience. I honestly don't think I would physically discipline them the way I did, as much as I did. Every action did not require the reaction I gave but I knew no other way. I did to them what I received every time I was disobedient. It pains me that my son has those kinds of memories. On so many occasions he would say I don't love him and that I love his sister more. He felt this because she rarely ever got in trouble and when she did, if he was around, he ended up getting it all. Any of my readers who are the oldest child overstand this? Can you relate? I share that same story as my son but my story did not have to become his story.

For my daughter, it was different. Although she didn't get much from the physical aspect of #GrowingUpBlack, she did get a 'lack of emotional support'. She also expressed how she felt I loved my son more especially when he began getting in trouble with the law. One thing we as parents, with more then one child, often forget is to equally distribute the attention. It's not intentional but it happens. I spent so much time focusing on my son's issues that I inadvertently neglected my daughter and her needs. When she was going through life changing events I wasn't there. I let her down. To this day, there are things she will not talk to me about on the strength of my actions. As a parent this hurts to know my child can't, won't come to me about everything. Having parents that listen is so important. It creates children that believe what they have to say matters.

As time passes, I realize the biggest mistakes I made as a mother was not the mistakes themselves but the fact that I never took the time to apologize for them. This letter to my children aligns with my hopes of making it right.

Dante' and Deondrea, I apologize. I apologize for all the times I may have been too hard on you. I apologize for all the times I may have said things that made you feel you could not come to me about ANY AND EVERYTHING. I apologize for any action that made you feel as if I was not proud to be your mother. I apologize for enabling you in any way. I apologize for not listening to hear what you were saying but instead listening to respond. The Most High entrusted me with 2 of the greatest gifts ever received in my life, you two. I apologize that it has taken so long to apologize. I want you both to know if you need me CALL ME! It doesn't matter if I am sleeping, out line dancing, dealing with issues of my own or if we've just had an argument, CALL ME! If you require my presence and I am able or just conversation do not hesitate to reach out. I will always be there for you no matter how big or small the problem. I know this won't happen over night and will continue to be a work in progress but we can get it done. We can heal together. I love you.