Dream Girl Pt. 4
I haven’t dreamt about Rose in months now. And my nights fill empty without her. My days, less exciting and joyful. They are times when I’m attending a work meeting and start to day dream about her until one of my colleagues kicks me under the table or nudges me with an elbow. Knocking me out of my reverie.
Honestly, my life is fulfilling. I love my work. In prison I became a published author writing for local papers and magazines. The Milwaukee Community Journal really gave me my first break and after them I published a poem in my friends book, Reflections With My Reflections by Clara Fleming. Those where accomplishments, reinforcements, which showed potential. But I had goals.
I wanted to be a writer that touched humanity. I wanted to be like James Baldwin, Maya Angelou, Jelani Cobb’s, Howard Zinn, and J.D. Vance. I wanted to get paid for my thoughts and have a hand in shaping culture. From Russia, to Brazil I wanted people to relate, be inspired, and gain hope from my writings. Like Rembrandt used light to illuminate ordinary people, I wanted to use words to illuminate, humanize, and therefore empower ordinary people.
Writing for The Nation and Mother Jones have allowed my words to reach corners of our earth that I never thought was possible. I often write about the experience I know best: incarceration. After doing 25 years behind bars I have a lived experience that makes me an expert on mass incarceration. I write about immigrant detention, youth incarceration, racial disparities in sentencing, the death penalty, political prisoners like Mumia Abu Jamal, and the increasing amount of female incarceration.
In prison I used to scoff at the saying, the pen is mightier then the sword. It was so difficult to get justice with the pen behind bars. But after receiving letters from incarcerated women for sharing their collective struggles, pain, aspirations, and humanity, I started to feel the might of the pen. After my writings help to dismantle the laws that once allowed children to be given life sentences, I knew that the pen would be my weapon of choice for combating evil, humanizing marginalized groups, and connecting people whose worlds might on the surface be drastically different. But beneath the surface our humanity is alike. After living through the hate of the Obama years and the Trump presidency I knew that vitriol and violence wasn’t the proper approach to people who think differently then us. And I had my hatred for white authority figures. A hatred that my daily life in prison fed. The guards and the prison staff as a whole reminded me of overseers on plantations and the police officers who arbitrarily kill people of color for no other reason then the officer being white and had that right. Anger, indignation, and a deep pain still lingers in me. But violence and vitriol damages the person who harbors that energy more so then the source and the targets of that toxic energy. Being whole and not broken was one of my goals that started in prison, so I had to do something positive and productive with the negative energy. There was a time I wanted to be a civil rights attorney as a way of doing both helping people and using my indignation, pain, and anger in a productive way. Although I never became a lawyer, my writings have help our judicial system treat people of color more humanely.
I wrote and worked out everyday in prison, while telling myself that having a strong body is cool, but having a strong mind and heart is the ultimate goal.
In addition to writing, I’m also a personal trainer. My mission statement is; We build people. Not just muscles. I ask my clients during our first session what are their two strongest muscles? Must go to the familiar muscle groups: chest and shoulders. Our brain and heart is the strongest. I let them know we will use physical exercise to not only build our physique, but to also build character.
What English teachers call negative words: never, not, no, can’t. Isn’t allowed when I’m training with a person or a group. I teach them that nothing is impossible. We might need a break, we might need to build up for a particular exercise, we might need positive self talk, or a banging play list. But we will accomplish the goal. My only requirement for my clients is to never make excuses, instead make adjustments. And hopefully they carry this mentality with them in their daily lives.
I actually met Rose in the gym I work in. She have classes that teaches women how to compartmentalize life demands, and human capital. The human capital concept is intriguing. She teaches women that they have human capital that self love is the best love. That they have worth that money, things, or men can neither add to or take away from. She starts one of her classes by writing, I AM on a projector. I AM……..with ellipses. Ellipses omitting words for the client to fill in. Rose would start by asking each woman their names. Once their names was written on the projector she would write, I AM…..underneath their name. Then she would have them fill in the empty space by asking them, who are you?. Most would say the roles they play in their families.
So Amber, for example,would say, I AM a mother, a daughter, a wife, a woman, a step mother. Rose would then tell them to ask five people who they are close to who are they to them. And to bring the responses next week. Amber asked her oldest daughter who witness all of Amber trials, tribulations, and triumphs. Her oldest daughter told her you are my hero. Amber then asked her father who she was to him, he told her you are a combination of strength and smarts. Her husband told her she was the most talented and beautiful woman he ever met. And her best friend told her she was a good listener, reliable, and dependable. When amber came back the next week who she was extended extremely which empowered her and gave her extra energy and confidence. An enthusiasm for life absent before this exercise. Amber final exercise was to write who she wanted to be too without reserve or embarrassment.
The first exercise allowed Amber to see how limited she say herself. The second exercise was meant to broaden Amber’s image of herself and to make known to herself all of who she was. The third exercise was about becoming and not allowing life to take away our dreams. The third exercise was strictly about Amber claiming her life and designing a life that could get her to become all she wanted to be. Even if who she wanted to be was scary and far fetched like a business owner, an author, or a mentor to other women. Our dreams suppose to scare and intimidate us.
I admire Rose’s approach to these women. One of my clients took some of her classes and she told me that before taking Rose classes she was addicted to drugs, after taking her classes she now gets high off life. And doing things like working out, achieving goals, all release feel good chemicals that drugs once gave her.
Although I’m use to challenges of all kinds, and not easily intimidated, around Rose I get shy. It’s an attraction that’s both childish and mature at the same time.
She once allowed me to recite one of my poems to her class during their graduation service. The poem I chose goes as follows:
“Her hands watered my roots.
Her diligence and persistence bared fruit.
Her hands cultivated barren land.
She had a plan, and no man could interfere,
She conquered her inner fears.
Now her inner happiness exudes her body.
It includes forbidden, forgotten, foretold virtues.
She walks the earth with no shoes, or no make up.
And the cushion under her arms feels good when she hugs us.
A Queen!
A beautiful human being!
You ever seen a woman like this,
Body matches fist,
Spiritual and sensuous?
Overall she’s the shit!!!”
Rose and I work together good. But that’s the limit of our communication. She’s open to flirting, casual banter, but me? I’m not sure she’s open to me. She once did the exercise I AM with me. A dreamer, I told her. I’m a dreamer. She knew what I was hinting at. Although she acts like she never read my writings about her, I know she has. Admitting that she did would fed an energy that she’s unsure of. But I know she has her dreams to. I often catch her watching me when I’m working out. I designed a Magic Mike exercise for her eyes only. One of these days when the gym is closed and it’s just her and I, I plan on giving her a show.
But until then, I wait, I dream, I write. And hopefully, My Dream Girl, isn’t just my first attempt at writing fiction but the first chapters of Rose’s and my story together.
My dream girl is my first attempt at writing fiction and will be featured in my upcoming poetry book entitled,
“The He•art of Heru: Love, Lust, and Loss.
A Book of Poetry and Prose.”
Please give me feed back on this short story. Which dream is the best and why? Thanks!
