Day By Day

Day by Day

By Emmanuel Hill

“Until the lion writes his own story, the tale of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.”

The Soy Autor writing process 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 young people who have long been underserved and underestimated.

Through the process of drafting, revising, illustrating and publishing memoirs, the Authors’ Circle members develop reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie, conflict resolution and positive self-projection.This Roseland Authors’ Circle has been based at the Youth Peace Center in Roseland, as part of Chicago CRED program.

In collaboration with:

Day by Day Emmanuel Hill

On August 20, 2017 I woke up feeling great. I got up, washed up, brushed my teeth and put my Adidas jumpsuit on with my matching black and white Adidas steel toe shoes. I ate one bowl of cereal for breakfast and left out the house and headed toward to the train. I was ready for a fun and relaxing day with family and friends.

I got off at the Sox 35 redline station and had my guys meet me there because the Opps we were beefing with were always posted on 39th and Wentworth. We all wanted to hang out, relax and kick back. As soon as we got on the block, we got high as hell. Then I left off the block because 5-1 (the police) kept riding past us. So I went on 37th and Michigan, where my family was barbecuing.

The block was bussing, everyone was having fun. This is my family’s block.

Aunts, uncles, cousins, even my mother could be seen up and down the street.

My cousin AJ was barbecuing. It seemed like everyone was there. People were laughing and joking. Kids were running around playing silly games.

I stayed until 9:30pm then walked to the red line. When I got to 95th Street, my cousin, Marley called me and said somebody shot up our block.

He said a male and female were laying on the ground and the male was not moving. When he described him, I had the feeling my big cousin AJ was shot. It turns out, I was right.Then my big brother called me and said our mother was out there, too. Our mother was shot in the buttocks.Five other family members had been shot, too.

I was fucked up hearing that my mother was shot. It really hit me hard. I felt like my heart was popping out of my chest. My niece was also traumatized.

She had been out there, too, and was having nightmares when she tried to close her eyes. I had to come over to her house until she fell asleep.

I was hurting hearing my mother crying when I went to visit her at her home.

So many things were happening. So much pain all at once.

My family was on the news sharing how hurt they were and how our cousin, AJ, was a good person and didn’t deserve to get killed.

I was angry and I wanted someone to pay for the pain my family was going through.

Somebody had to pay for the way I was feeling.

I wanted someone to feel my pain and sorrow. Somebody needed to hurt.

I was thinking if I had been there, shots would be getting fired back. It hurt me to know I wasn’t out there to protect my family.

When I went to my cousin AJ’s funeral, I could not believe he was laying in the casket. I felt helpless to see him laying there. I felt helpless seeing my family cry, watching his mother cry over her dead son.

More pain and anger was building up inside of me.

After AJ’s funeral, his mother asked me not to do anything crazy. I knew AJ was in a better place, so I listened. I knew retaliating would only bring more pain to my family.

Revenge has a way of going on and on forever. I figured it would be best to just go through this pain without balancing the scales with more violence.

I am still hurting over the situation, but everyday gets a little better.

The urge to seek revenge diminishes day by day. I try to focus on my family and my children. I stay focused on my future and fight to remain positive despite all of these negative experiences.

But I am scarred and trying to figure out what all of this pain and hurt means.

I am not sure what it means yet, but I search for the answers so my children can avoid this pain that violence causes.

Hopefully, one day, it will all make sense.

I am from the streets, from killing and clout.

I am from the old school.

Music blasting, old stories, and peaceful sounds.

I am from backyard BBQ’s, where aunts and uncles playing spades drinking cocktails.

I’m from “Respect your elders” and “sharing memories,” from my grandma and grandfather I’m from ass whipping and if you don’t do your homework, no outside, from crying is for females and help people who need.

I’m from all day church services with Mr. and Mrs. Hill.

Greens, corn bread, mac and cheese, ribs, from the place where bullets got names.

When My cousin AJ got killed I wanted to hurt people.