X Kendall
The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people at-risk of, victims of, or perpetrators of violence in El Salvador. In 2017 this innovative program expanded into Chicago to create tangible, high quality opportunities that nourish the minds,,expand the voices and share the personal truths of individuals who have long been underserved and underestimated. Through the process of drafting, revising and publishing memoirs, participants develop self-reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie and positive selfprojection to author new life narratives. Since January 2017 ConTextos has partnered with Cook County Sheriff's Office to implement Authors Circle in Cook County Department of Corrections as part of a vision for reform that recognizes the value of mental health, rehabilitation and reflection. These powerful memoirs complicate the narratives of violence and peace building, and help author a hopeful future for human beings behind walls, their families and our collective communities. While each author’s text is solely the work of the Author, the image used to create this book’s illustrations have been sourced by various print publications. Authors curate these images and then, using only their hands, manipulate the images through tearing, folding, layering and careful positioning. By applying these collage techniques, Authors transform their written memoirs into illustrated books. This project is being supported, in whole or in part, by federal award number ALN 21.027 awarded to Cook County by the U.S. Department of the Treasury.
Birth of a Writer Kendall X
Who knew being trapped behind this door against my own will a writer would be born? Truth be told, I just picked up the pen to weather the storm. Lord said “Do your time constructively and stay focused.” To be honest, it was in one of these cells I found my purpose. I believe I found my voice. I’ll get through to my people writing these poems.
I still remember when I heard my first poem. I was in the back of the class playing slow. That’s when I heard it. It was a poem by Edgar Allen Poe, the Tale of the Tell Tale Heart. I was sitting there amazed like “Damn. That shit hard!” Then I heard a poem by a phenomenal woman about a phenomenal woman. I felt it in my soul. I felt like she knew my mother being sentenced to fourteen years for getting shot and shooting four others. All that time in a cell, I had to discover how to right my life. So I picked up a pen and I started to write.
Sitting in the six by nine cell, with one gunshot wound to my upper left arm, listening to detective James Bond. Yeah! You heard the name right, James Bond telling me I was being charged with four attempted murders and several other charges but I stopped listening after four attempts. All I could think about was my daughter and that I might not ever be with her again. Nine months after serving a three year sentence, how could I be in this situation again fighting for my freedom, fighting for my life? Two months ago everything was just good, or at least not bad. I just didn’t see this coming, but I should have seen it coming, let me start from the top.
I was released from prison in 2013. My homies came and picked me up from the joint. When I seen them, I felt free. I was bout fifty pounds heavier than what I used to be. They had the cameras out showing all they social media fans when I was back home. After shaking up with them and talking a little shit, we was on our way back to the city, Chicago, now known as Chi Raq by the street. They had weed and some Hennesy. They tried to pass me the blunt and pour me a cup. To their surprise, I said naw. I knew after that time I was gone, I had to stay focused. My daughter had moved to Oklahoma with her mom since I been in jail, and I knew that being a father that was around was most important. I had to figure out how to get her back home. Starting from scratch, I knew it wouldn’t be easy.
ce changed sin e n o d s g in e how th . Before ere telling m w s ie m on my return o g h in y it m a , w d o n o e h y ha d b e back to the my n nd everybod a t, O n o ur w a y n lo o a I d e g e o wa s a s . Things chan e n r o g n e e b o t I w t m r g e n ew , il ja to o t n e l Iw k ta a d Th e A l l I n a a . h o , I nd . e a d a s k c w h ta b a e r s id a s e I s a nd la cau I w l d u ha t t be u a th I co or w me f w N o th a n a d y sto p . s e re e 0’ 1 0 m o r sn ’t g o n il d n t w a as W a w I e he m w at n t d y kn o g th i o y n n o d m e b e v e o th i b e n t o s m s n’ s o g a d id w a a I n e i er a s B e nd I w te . k, a d th n p la b a c e a t h . a e y m s fr n t p w a fe r e d if
When I got back to my hood, everybody I knew came out to kick it. I felt the love. Everybody came to show me love, but it was only one face I wanted to see but I knew I wouldn’t, my daughter. Her mom moved to Tulsa, Oklahoma. So I knew that wasn’t going to happen. Afterward my homies hit my hand with a little bit of cash and they took me to Old Fashion Donuts. Then headed to my mom’s crib where I paroled to. I hadn’t lived with my mom since I was seventeen. She kicked me out because I didn’t want to leave the streets alone. I was twenty-three when I came home and we didn’t live in the house we lived in for the past ten years, so it felt different.
I’m my mom’s second oldest of four boys, and the only one who’s been to prison. I’d like to say I tried my best to keep them from doing what I was doing. Plus I knew how hurt my mom would be if something ever happened to them. I never thought about anything happening to me. I was at a point in my life where I was ready to accept whatever came with the street. But when I got out of jail, I just wanted to be a dad to my daughter. I missed her so much. Before jail, she was my best friend, even though she couldn’t talk. I told her everything. I guess her not being able to talk meant she was the best secret keeper.
Once I was in my mom’s house, I gave her a hug and kiss, then got her phone and called my daughter, who was six years old now and had grown up so much. We talked for a long time. Well, I mostly just listened. After I let her talk my ear off, her mom got on the phone. I asked her the only thing that mattered. When was she moving back to Chicago? She let me know that she started over in life and was doing well, and Chicago wasn’t part of her plans. I was mad, but how could I be mad for her doing better? So my next question was when was I going to see my daughter. Sad part was there was no definite answer.
The next day my parole officer came and slapped a house arrest band on my ankle and told me I had ninety days on it, 7AM to 5PM was my curfew. You’d think the time I did in prison was enough. I guess not. I tried to be optimistic about it, at least I wasn’t in prison anymore. I looked for jobs during my time out, filled out job applications. My homies would pull up and take me place to place to look for employment. No call back. No interviews. I had been out of jail two weeks and nothing.
ha t after t y a d d r raide d . O ne e a c e i f h f o e in t h ro l e r t sh o t k. Ove o ns p a i o c t g e c h e e r i c r ho m nce f Co omplia r se . M y m e nt o c t o r e w a ro und , n p i t g t e o u e g D o h r t s d i t a o e ba g e t on in g , b u it w a s a n I l l in h o t , t d o m y n n l Th e n th e i a h e am und to t o p o l ic a t my f T h ey f o o r d in g g . c t me n e i c l l m A i e C h ic a g r . y n s a b ou wc u se t w e o h a n r h g d u a ’s o s m th t t ed h g un my mo second co m m i I d e r s w it a c e i h k f i l f t? e o t h in g s a st, sh k e t ha i h p tw e n ty l g y e u v m o i r l to o w in g in g t h w a nt s ed . Kn o se a r c h s h s i W p . s he r m wa b la m e ’t my mo n a C th e r e . b e in g
First thing she asked was what I did and why did they come to her house like that. I was just as confused as her about the situation. I know she was thinking “No way all this for nothing.” But truthfully, all I had been doing every day was looking for a job. I went from zero strikes to three. She told me that day “When they let you off house arrest, you need to figure out where you're going to live, because I’m not living like this.” So I had two and a half months to figure life out. I told myself it was just a test, and to stay strong.
With a month left on house arrest, finally a job interview at a hotel in downtown Chicago. I dressed up, shirt, tie, haircut. I just knew the job was mine. The interview went well, so I thought, but no call back. Then an interview at Macy’s. No call back. Then Kellog, no call back. I even called them back to check the status on the job. Nothing. Feeling the pressure on my back, but I knew I couldn’t give up.
One day, on my way to job hunting, I was walking down the street. I saw my homie. We stop and talk for a minute. The police pulled up, the jump out boys, guns drawn. Then an officer called me by my full government name. He said “What’s up Kendall Reed?” I kept quiet. He tells us to put our hands in the air, then he smirks. “You don’t remember me, huh?” I still said nothing. I’m the one who sent you to prison. Then I broke my silence “Ok, and can I go? I got stuff to do.” He tells me “I don’t like your attitude. I should lock you up. Aren’t you on parole?” I say to him “I haven’t done anything to get locked up.” “You’re with a gang member on parole,” he says. He then placed me in handcuffs, put me in the car, and took me straight to the station.
Then next morning, I was in a courtroom confused, with a public defender who wanted to get me a reasonable bond and a court date a month and a half away. Which had me even more confused. So you think I’m finna pay for walking down the street minding my business? I said “Almost every neighborhood in Chicago has gang members.” I tried to explain. He said that’s the best he could do for me. So when we got in front of the judge, before he could start running his mouth, I said the same thing to the judge I said to him. The judge, I guess he saw things my way and I was released. I went home, reported my arrest to my parole officer, feeling defeated. All I could do was go to sleep.
I me . d e a ll he ec i n d im m a o h y h l se t. M o n e e o ld t n I e . e r m ove m som the ca I been m o t in f ir s t uled ber fr nce i o d s y g e h m d on sm y sc my n u o u t a n in g , it w a m o r g t t fo go came been t ha a v e id h e e I s e k ’ l , i t tl to d e it t h a sa jus e x t ? ” H e s o u tsi ady h . d s e e n r n e a t a m a t’s I g o g o t h o e h e w b o u t t h H er e ” , h g “ W a c “ d n in eI . O n y a n d H e sa i k w a s m o r m s in c b i t r x a h in p. hi yc ne erd it u o u l d t Th e ’t se e n y to m d y e st t i l a e n nd lIc t. h a d n h is w a p p e n l u n t a m e . A l tha l l o b h e le s a ho w a s t w ha t nd p e o p a o ut I b e e n a d u s e i y y a b o e p u l l s in c e ll th of m s onl e H s g e a . o on o u t s m o k in it w le t at p w o d e o kn pe t im l e re r o m . I h o l e t h im f h a d sta y th . I l I s o n r f f e h er e t r y m o o y e an ew ev e m d s o m o n ey h t n m in in o w a s f b it o f e t . h o as e fe d c d t o d a l it t l n m y ’ I d u r e g I h a m fo r g o t o g i f I o I t h in a r o u n t il t s n ts F ir in g o r e a r y th h w p or te m
that I had a right people and just like the th wi h uc to in t go I , I’d done in With that squared away more in ten hours than ne do I’d e. om inc of e place to stay and a sourc almost three months.
house arrest band off, I had a garbage bag When my parole officer came and cut the place, “the streets.” I talked to my full of my clothes, and I was off to my new I knew I had to get my life in order first. daughter every day, still waiting to see her. was the hard part. Everything else was Getting an apartment without a pay stub streets was paying off quick. In no time, I starting to come together. Hustling in the ry living situation had turned into a trap had a car. Money was flowing. My tempora house. Things seemed to be looking up.
Easy come, easy go is the saying. Even though things started good, there’s no right way to do wrong. I was out of jail for five months, then the first of a series of unfortunate events happened. My cousin was killed. My heart and mind couldn’t understand it. I began drinking, smoking, and popping pills more, living on the edge, and still unsure when I would see my daughter. Adding salt to an open wound. Then I got robbed, and shortly after that someone shot my car up. No more car. Then I spent the opening of the new year in Wisconsin wondering what 2014 would bring me. Shortly after the new year began, I got good news.
ew s mer. The n m u s t a th icago fter hter to Ch g u a d stay, but a y to m e g c in la on g p n ri good plan ould be b h a d a n ew a I w e t. v a s a m e h b m y o ll e b ut n’t rea ren’t th M y b a b ym es t o f m e , wed. I did gs still we b lo in s e s th th a t g u w b in e gett e hustl was great, l. of life were no car, th s d n n w a o y baby gir d d m e d b h n b it a ro w s p e g u m in gett end ti g . Th e back goin wait to sp s ’t g n in ld u th o g c I gettin eful. a d m e ho p h r a e y w the ne
February 12, 2014, I went to Gary, Indiana with my homie. What started out as a dice game ended in ME and four other people being shot. A shootout that stayed on every news channel for days. Ten months of freedom and nothing to show for it but a bullet wound to my left arm. After being in the police station for two days, I was sent to Lake County jail.
dred plus He told me I was facing two hun er. lat ys da few a r de fen de lic I met my pub ed me table for me. He never even ask the on rs yea ty thir had y the years in jail and r me what happened the whole yea ed ask er nev he it, out ab ng nki what happened. Thi r lived up to the County Jail. My Public Pretende and three months I was in Lake pleas. Nothing was continue to talk to me about did r eve he All . one of n tio uta rep way I knew how: to I let my frustration out the only l, Jai y unt Co e Lak in ile wh So else. fight.
d r an e h ot in y m t h er e m me d i n t i e l l e uc h e I ca r tim m . h y o u to in t y sta o y o t g d u n d e i ro d nm is s nd e x te k e a n a r e m y h o u w a s o t o m e a t n m u a an at is t ex er fo r u r m u . Y o aft ing th cell n write e l o o o o y y h e h from eeds lure. S veryt in the could o it.” h t i e I d e in l e a r n h t e r n e a f a r o t e gu y , b u t T h e n m e d th ks ,“ lly lik ug tw n d e u r e a u r d a e l in g . I j u s T h en d b o o s a id a l e . r o v io e y u s e y o m e f e w r o t e in k o f n ’ t r ea o u t . H a p h o I th id be Ih d ca ab ad M y s a id , “ e l y b e r d s h e l l a n c o u l d h im I d l k e d I o c v ta s h e t r u c t i o s e w t o m y t h in g I t o l d y o n e y s r h s. c o n if e . ” T b a c k g s , a n n o v e l ’ s e v e t l e n in h e r , I w e y fe e l u r b a n h e o n t y e h o l , a ll m a d a n r t h a n d e h m in d if I l b e t t e e a sk n n o v a urb
I spent a few days putting together about ten chapte door asked me “A rs of something. Th ye, what you doin e guy next g ov er th er passed him the ch e?” I told him I’m writing this book. apters I’d done. H I e finished reading “Damn. This shit co the chapter and ld. You got to fin sa id ish that bro.” Befo incidents happen re I could finish it, ed in the hole. Th a few e Lake County staf ringleader. They ca f fe lt lik e I was the me and raided m y cell, threw away and moved me to ev er yt hi ng except my mai a section where it l was just me. Funn a punishment, bu y th in g is they felt like it t it wasn’t. I wante was d to be alone. Th about was my da e only thing I coul ughter and how I d think had to find a way back to her.
Then the offer was an argumentative sentence between ten and fourteen years in prison at fifty percent. So five to seven years in prison, me knowing that fourteen would be the number. I called my mom and my homie Jezzy. They both told me to take the offer. So I did, but I knew something had to change in my life. I had to do something different. I had to make every day count. So when I went to prison, I brought all the necessities and a pen and a lot of paper, and I wrote. It was the only thing I felt I could do to express myself.
After six years and three months I packed my whole life, everything I owned to date in a shoebox. My discovery of my case, my pictures, four movie scripts, one TV series script, every letter I had been sent, and a letter from my brother who I was leaving behind in jail, who still had time to do. Through all the negatives, a positive came from it. A writer was born.
I went home and got hired to work for a community activist group called Chicago CRED. I began doing interviews with people and posting them to social media trying to do positive things to uplift the community. I also began shooting my first movie IL. State Drill City -Starring Lord Nem(clip), Be Real and AFTERMATH OF CRACK. The best part is I got to see my daughter and be with my family. They encourage me to do better every day.
With life there are many obstacles and for every action there are consequences. Through everything remember never give up. Persevere. It's not about the times you fall, it's about the times you get up and every time you get up try to be better. Remember to never stop learning and stay focused, we all have a purpose. God gives his toughest battles to his strongest warriors.
Kendall Reed I Am I am from Chicago’s south side From Roseland, the Wild Wild I am from 10537 I am from Fernwood Park Where a fight was just a fight, win-lose or draw I’m from Walter Payton and the Bear’s Super Bowl shuffle And Michael Jordan reigns king From the Sears Tower and Buckingham Fountain From The Taste of Chicago and the Bud Billiken Parade I’m from where the southside Sox can’t wait to beat the northside Cubs And from where footworking at a house party Before we was old enough for clubs I’m from the Home of the Hogey, I-57 and Beggars Pizza I’m from the hood before it was the trenches I’m from the city that loves the doe I’m from the same city that’s giving up hope I am from Chiraq because it ain’t Chicago no more
Until the lion learns to write their own story, tales of the hunt will always glorify the hunter - African Proverb Copyright
2023 ConTextos