Lost Not Forgotten by Jaquan Banks

Jaquan Banks

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.

Lost Not Forgotten Jaquan Banks

As I’m hugging my mother, she’s crying tears of joy! Only thing on my mind is, I’m finally here…

My life was never easy growing up. First let me introduce myself. My name is Jaquan Banks, I’m a son and a father, provider, protector and many more things. I was basically raised in a single household. My mother did the best she could in raising me and my brothers.

My father was never around, so that left a void in our house to where all boys had to get male guidance elsewhere. As a child I was always into shit, good and bad.

Growing up I experienced early stages of abandonment. I always felt as though I was the odd child, in a good and bad way. I have two other brothers and they share the same father. My dad never gave me a chance to meet him. See I respected my brother's dad because he took me in as a responsibility when he didn't have to. I also resented him as a man because he played a pivotal role in tearing my family apart.

My brother's dad was into the streets, he and my mother met in high school, where she graduated and became a nurse. I guess they were happy because me and my brothers had a good upbringing with both parents being involved. Until tragedy struck us.

In the blink of an eye, the saying from sugar to shit, spoke loud! My mother lost everything due to my father getting her hooked on drugs. She lost her job, car, house and most importantly her kids. She didn't lose us to the system but she lost our respect, our company. She lost us to the streets.

By me and my brothers having different fathers and my mother no longer paying attention to us, we got split up.

I stayed under my mother the best I could. If she couldn't watch me I went to my grandmother's, whom I love dearly; that's my mother's mom. My brothers stayed with their Dad’s side of the family. By us being split like that, it led me to start feeling lonely and angry. In my mind I felt cheated. My mother still did the best she could, especially when my dad couldn't stay out of jail.

I became my mother's rock, I never gave up on her. Not saying my brothers did, but my mother and I made it through some dark times. Even with me being the second son, I felt like the oldest. Even with me being a child, I felt like an adult.

As of now I respect my mother to the fullest degree. She's the apple of my eye.

She overcame all odds, and became the queen that she was supposed to be.

She gained her dignity back and became my rock.

Early stages of life I was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder and ADHD. I was hospitalized, inpatient and out, kicked out of Chicago Public School in 6th grade, age 13-16 I was in and out of juvenile detention centers.

At this point I never realized how I wasn’t only affecting myself mentally and physically, but my family as well. No mother wants to go through the feeling of being told how long she can see her son, how she can feed or hug and kiss her baby.

No brother wants to go through the point in life where he can’t grow with his brother, play fight or sit and talk with his brother.

I was the glue that held my family together. With my constant absence, I was causing a lot of shit to go bad in my household…

At 17yrs old I was given 12 yrs in I.D.O.C for selling drugs, crazy right? You would’ve thought I committed a murder or something with all that time.

Due to my mental health background my judge felt as though she showed me leniency by giving me 12 instead of 18yrs.

As I’m riding to I.D.O.C Stateville I’m scared shitless. I’m only 17 about 5’8” 140 something pounds soaking wet with these grown ass men.

I done heard and seen so much shit about prison. I just know this was the end for me.

I spent 77 days in N.R.C Stateville waiting to get shipped to my parent joint.

That 77 days felt like hell.

That had to be the hardest shit I’ve ever done in life. I was finally sent to Dixon C.C. which is like an hour and 40 minutes from Chicago.

Within a few months in Dixon I realized jail wasn’t how people made it seem, with all the rapes and killings like in the old days. I got into the hang of things quickly. One thing about me, I can adapt to my surroundings fast. I’m very observant.

I started getting into all type of shit, sports, fights and my biggest problem gambling! While incarcerated I learned how to play poker. We used to play for commissary because it was so cheap, plus we didn’t know about cash app back then.

One day while playing poker I was on a real bad losing streak. I was down to my last, I was smoking. I didn’t want to leave. In prison you have people we call the store, they give you food for extra in return.

I was pointed in the direction of this man they called Old School.

I asked him for a band, he gave me $15-$30 back in the commissary.

I went back to the poker table and lost that fast as well.

Still I wasn’t trying to stop playing. I’m hoping this old man would help me out again even though I didn’t pay him back the first $15.

I found him and asked him if he can look out for me again. He said yea but I had to come to his cell with him. Now I’m thinking he on some weird shit. I’m following him thinking I’m gone kick his ass if he on some gay shit.

He only about 5’5” and about 60 yrs in age.

As I’m outside of his cell, he call me. “Quan?” :Yeah, Old School”... He tell me to step in and get the food. As I'm walking in I’m trying to feel him out. When he passed me the bag of food, I check it out because I never told him how much I wanted.

It was like $60 in my mind. I'm like damn that’s $90 we only go for $150. I’m so greedy still I took that shit. He was speaking to me about something I wasn’t paying attention to, all I was thinking about was going back to the table.

I finally looked up to give my thanks and show my appreciation. When I looked at him I seen this look in his eyes that showed nothing but regret and sadness. A man that failed in life, like he just lost a friend or something. You can literally see the water building up in his eyes.

I divert my attention out of respect, plus my mind is not on trying to figure out his problems. I got bigger shit going on with this table. Something tell me to look around his cell on some nosey shit, maybe see if he got more food just in case I lose this.

As I’m eye fucking his cell, I run across a picture that stood out to me. In this picture is a man with four kids. What stood out the most that fucked me up was a person in the picture looked familiar to me. I asked him if I could see it. No, he replied. Just action.

As he’s grabbing the picture I hear a slight sniff. When he turned to hand me the photo I can see the gates open in his eyes. I’m still not processing shit at this point, yet my curiosity is at an all time high. As I’m looking at the picture words can’t even form for me to ask why does this look like a younger version of my mother and her siblings.

Finally I gain sense. “Aye School what this lady’s name right here, if you don’t mind me asking.” At this point the gates open full fledged now. When he say the most shocking shit ever. School said “her name is Jettie, you might call her ma…”

At this point I’m feeling like him, so many emotions and answers going through my mind. See my grand dad is not a figure that gets talked about due to the fact he’s been gone so long.

The saying goes out of sight out of mind speaks loud when it comes to him. Yet here it is my first time meeting him under conditions I would have never imagined. Now poker is the least thing on my mind. My grand dad and me bond instantly.

I learned so much from him. From how he grew up in the south in Akaville, Mississippi, from using out-houses as a washroom and dealing with racism, to traveling to Chicago, the low end where he became an Egyptian Cobra Stone under Mickey Cogwell who was his mentor.

My grand dad got incarcerated in the 80’s for murder and was sentenced to life.

I called my mother and she couldn’t believe me when I told her. She got emotional as well. I remember talking to this man everyday. He began to help me get back into court due to my judge giving me a wrongful sentence. In that short amount of time this man became my icon and idol. In my eyes from the history he gave me to become the man he is, he’s legendary to me.

Upon my release I promised myself I’ll stay in touch with him. He’s still incarcerated til this day. I feel he is rehabilitated and should be pardoned and released. I keep him updated with me, which I know he’s disappointed in me because of the fact I’m following in his footsteps.

I recently sent him pictures of his great grand kids. I just pray this doesn’t become a repeated cycle. It stops with me, because I’ll hate to meet my grandkids under the same conditions as him. At this point I’m fighting first degree murder, same as him.

I'm doing my best to be a better person so upon my release I can live for myself, grand dad and my kids.

Jaquan Banks Dear Ma Your work was well done.

Take that from your baby, Your second son.

I bow my head humbly, To make amends with you.

I apologize profusely for all I put you thru.

I did not realize, I was unaware, I swear ma, I wouldn’t took it there.

When it came to loving me, You did what you felt was right.

My anger and the streets blocked out your light I couldn’t see the man I was supposed to be.

Yet thru it all you kept on loving me, No matter what is said, when it’s all said and done.

Hold your head high ma, from your hard-headed son.

Until the lion learns to write their own story, tales of the hunt will always glorify the hunter - African Proverb Copyright

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