Ish’s Story

What was the beginning of your connection to All Kings? 

I had recently gotten out of prison, and was looking for some change in my life. I had done a lot of work on myself inside, and wanted to go deeper, in understanding what made me a violent person. I felt like I had inherited a fucked up legacy from my environment, from the barrio and the streets. And it led the only place it could lead – to prison, to aggression, to screwed up relationships. I could pound my chest, but it was like an ape-like way of living. 

So, yeah, I had never done mens work, but I’d heard the terms toxic masculinity and healthy masculinity. And so I gave it a shot. 

Tell me more about the toxic masculinity you learned. How did that lead to prison? 

Growing up on the streets in Harlem, I had a very narrow view of the world. As a kid, it was just about the excitement, the fun of running around the streets. Most of the people I came in contact with were fixtures of the street – hoods, mobsters, gangs. I never saw the men who went to work every day. I mean they were there, but they just went home to their apartments. So what I learned was how to be in the streets, how to survive. And for a lot of young men, myself included, that way of living leads to prison. It was a rite of passage even. You got into trouble, you went to the joint, you came home. And now you had this swagger. Your friends were like, ‘Yo, what was it like inside? Did you fight?’ That kind of attention was appealing to a 13-year-old. 

What were you taught about what it took to survive on the streets?

Violence is accepted. You had to fight to get respect. You couldn’t back down. You couldn’t show emotions. You couldn’t be vulnerable. You had to be “a man” – and the idea of what it was to be “a man” in that context was pretty twisted. 

How old when you went to prison the first time? 

I went to juvie when I was 15. I had brushes with regular beat officers. After I got out, I thought I was the baddest guy in the streets. People were impressed and I fed off that. It became a recurring cycle. Going to jail, getting out. That continued for decades. 

How many years total? 

I’ve done more than 35 years, on an installment plan. 

How did you start the journey out of that way of living? 

I started in prison. I wanted to stay near New York City because that’s where my family and wife lived. But to stay near NYC, I had to have a hold on me. So I enrolled in a college program. And almost immediately I discovered that I wasn’t as stupid as I was always told I was as a kid. Actually I was pretty smart. So education started moving me in a different direction. And I found I actually enjoyed being in the college classroom, doing the academic stuff. I started to accomplish things, and I felt proud of myself. It became a new way to show up as a man – a man with intelligence. I wasn’t just one dimensional anymore – an aggressive thug. 

But street life is so exciting. Why give it up? 

Because of the consequences. It’s like a drug. The pleasure was only on the surface. Inside I wasn’t complete. Man, I had all the trappings – the clothes, the jewelry, the swagger, the cred. But they were all displays. It was learned behavior, like a language I had learned. But there was no substance to it. I didn’t actually care about anyone. And I pushed everyone away. Because that’s what I learned to do. 

So eventually I realized it was like chasing the wind. You don’t know where the wind comes from, or where it goes. I didn’t really know what I was doing all that shit, and it didn’t seem to be going anywhere. I had the Rolex, and the chain, and the car – all these things that tried to add value to my body. But they were a hollow shell. Because I didn’t value myself inside. And I was afraid to express real love or emotion. What good is any of that if you can’t actually share it with anyone?

It sounds like education gave you a new identity almost. And a new sense of power? 

Definitely a new identity. The power was more complicated. I felt more powerful in myself. But college students in jail didn’t have it easy. They were looked down upon. Toxic male culture equates education with weakness. ‘You think you’re better than us, but you’re not.’ That sort of thing. They think that if you go to college, you’re soft. 

How did you deal with that part of it? 

By that time I’d built up a reputation, so I didn’t get much of that. And I tried to play both parts. Acting aggressively in the yard during the day, going to college at night. But the conflict in that didn’t really work, and I ended up getting sent to the box and missing a semester or two. And after that I really didn’t want to be the aggressive thug anymore. I’d started to see myself in a different light. 

What advice would you give to other men who want to make that kind of shift? 

Honestly, I’d say be honest with yourself. Be the man you really want to be, deep down. If that man is a thug, be that. There’s no future in it, but if you want to do it, do it. But if a part of you wants to become a different man, you don’t need to fully believe it. Just start doing it. Give yourself a chance. Get the education. Start being kind and showing respect. See what it feels like. And try to realize that it doesn’t mean you’re soft or a punk. It might mean you’re growing. Stepping out of the street, out of the hood, out of competition – it’s going to be uncomfortable at times. But it feels incredible. And I believe it's worth it. 

What did All Kings and men’s work add for you? 

It gave me the ability to connect with myself, to parts of myself that I’d disconnected from. It was that disconnection that led to prison, and all the rage and everything else. 

It also allowed me to realize that in my life now I can actually be vulnerable. I can express my joys and my sorrows. All Kings gave me a space where I could do those things – share vulnerabilities, share insecurities, and also share my triumphs. I’m a better husband, a better friend. I work to honor my commitments. I’m humbler. 

So many men, myself included, lead lives of quiet desperation. Unable to discover what the problem is, just knowing something’s not complete. I may never be fully complete, but I know that by participating in this community of men, I am more complete than I ever would have been on my own. 

It’s like you used to look for things to show other people your value. But now there’s something like an inner value. Does that seem right?  

Yeah, exactly. I started looking inward instead of being focused on apearing a certain way. I sought approval from the negative people in my life, now i generate my own self esteem. And the result is that I’m more human now. I have real friends, friends that I never could have dreamed of before. People who sincerely support me and who I support. People of all different races, genders, and classes. 

You know, I sometimes take my old friends out with me now. We might go to a nicer environment, or hang out with some white folks. And they’re like, ‘man, what am I doing here?’ They make it about the environment, but in reality they don't believe they deserve to be there. So it becomes this self-fulfilling prophecy. I know because that’s what happened to me. Adults in authority told me I was a bad kid, no good and would not amount to anything. So I set out to prove them right. That led to prison for decades. Now it’s different. It’s still a struggle. But I’m more grounded and supported. Now I’m participating in life.