New Shoes by Nolan L.

New Shoes

Nolan L.

The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people who are 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 collaborated with the Cook County Sheriff's Office to implement Authors Circle in Division X of 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 narrative about violence and peace-building, and help author a hopeful future for these men, their families, and our collective communities.

While each memoir's text is solely the work of the Author, the images used to create this book's illustrations have been sourced from 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 fully illustrated books.

In collaboration with

New Shoes Nolan L.

It all started because I needed new shoes. I was about to graduate from 8th grade, but

because of my behavior in school, always getting into fights, and bringing makeshift

weapons to school. I was expelled, and kicked out of Chicago public schools. Well

because of that, and not being able to graduate, go to luncheon, and being on suspension.

I had to get my diploma in the front office at the last day of school. I was supposed to to be

on punishment, and part of my punishment was to get some cheap payless shoes.

I took my allowance after saving up the money, enough to buy half an eight ball. I found

out that is the cheapest way I could come up with to buy drugs to sell on my own. So

after I brought the work to sell, one of my friends who was not much older than me, but

like 3 years older, but way more advanced, pulled me to the side when he saw me on

the corner trying to sell crack.

He was like, “Who sold you that stuff? How much did you pay?” When I told him, we

was already walking to his house. He took me in the basement, and was like, “I like you,

and I don’t want anyone to cheat you.” So he put me in front of a triple beam scale, and

a digital scale. Once he pulled out his stash of drugs, he put stuff on there and showed

me what I brought, the weight of it, and he put a bunch of other stuff on there, like an

eight ball, and what the weight then he showed me 10 and 20 dollar bags, and what

they weight with, and without the plastics. All the stuff I learned about decimals in math

class has now paid off, and now I can put it to use in real life, cause I always thought

most of the stuff we had learned in school was useless. After he showed me that cause

I learned so fast at that young age, then my next lesson was how to hide, and stash the

drugs so that I don’t have them in my possession if the police ever checked me.

I finally got all the money I needed to buy some name brand shoes. The $45 dollars I

saved up in allowance made me $100, but I spent $10. $5 went to weed, and $5 went

to food. Now I felt like a grown man who does not need anyone else to buy anything

for himself. I finally had a corner to stand on all by myself, with say so from the big time

neighborhood dope boys for no one to fuck with me, or it will be a problem. As a very

young man, I gained respect with all the older guys in the neighborhood.

Now I got the money for shoes, but that will be all the money I would have. So I was

back at where I started from the beginning. I gotta take the $45 to buy the same piece

again, so I can save the other money or go for broke, use all the money to get a bigger

piece, so that after I get the shoe money I can still have money to be back in the game.

So that is what I did, I went all out, got an eight ball for $90, they was going for the

$100. After I got the ball, I now had to build a reputation for being the guy on the corner.

d an , l l ba ht eir g i t th re e e g th to no e a t m ge for to g r in e ok ov o t l f e ple yl eo ne o p h m wit ad h d l l il o I st ars d e y an 4 t1 es, o .A h e s m the ga d e p ha do ,I s e y h t da y in l ee l r a h ci nt offi thi i s a W Iw w no ck. cra

At the same time, I still had a curfew and chores to do at home. Now I am

maintaining being a good boy at home, and a dealer on the streets. I had a big responsibility at home on my part of the chores. I was the oldest of my

siblings and the oldest grandson to my Grandma who ran our house with rules everyone had to follow at all times.

My grandma would question me about what

I did in the streets. I would lie and say nothing but she just knew I was up to

All that started to change when I brought a gun for protection, and to build a

reputation that I ain’t to be played with. Plus I wanted people to respect me, that

led to me being asked to come to Jumah on friday. At Jumah, I met all the brothers in the neighborhood, and was given 7 days to remember my lessons. It was easy

for me to remember because I had it written down for me by one of the brothers. I

would recite it to myself out loud, while I stood on the corner or when in the house.

Most ack P. Stone Nation.

Bl e th of r be em m officially a s, a andatory, and I was n corner, new shoe ow Now Jumah was m y m t go I w no school, and . m being a fighter at money in my pocket n people knew me fro ow y m ith w r be al gang mem to sell, and I’m a re s ug dr n ow y m n, gu

Everything was going too fast. I just wanted some shoes at first, but now I got the shoes, and greed crept in, and I became thirsty for the almighty dollar.

Now I was in need of more than just some shoes, I needed the clothes, the hats, and the cool jackets, and a car too. I was so militant minded, and obedient to the gang, and the corner to get my money within no time, I stepped up in rank with the moes, and became the law man.

My homey who I looked up to who I got my drugs from was just a regular member, and he was older than me. He was 19 years old with way more money..

The money had us all under a spell.

My homey came with the idea to start a drug spot, I would run the house, and he would run the clients to the spot. So that’s what we did. We found a house for rent within the area. We took over a crackhead crib on our block, the block he lived on, and the same corner I stood at.

My homey paid the rent, and I paid for anything the crackhead wanted everyday, and the crackhead job was to go out, and get me clients as well as my homey. That was cool for a while til the crackhead got too greedy, and needy for us. He became more of a burden to us than we was willing to deal with.

Now at this point, I am in the street too much, and it has become a problem at home. My

family don’t want to let me out of the house because it’s obvious that I am selling drugs,

and in a gang. By this time I’ve been caught driving a stolen car. I stole the car from the

neighborhood car boys. I only wanted to drive at first and not walk to school but I learned to

start the cars so fast I was one of the best around. I felt free driving. I felt like somebody.

carrying a gun, got on new shoes, clothes, and a pager, the year is 91.

I’m

My Mom seen me in the stolen car, and seen me selling crack to people. I don’t hide it,

I keep it on

me, with my gun. At 15, I am getting patted down to get in the house by my grandma, aunts,

uncles. I am in the streets for days, or weeks at a time, to the point where they no longer

to come home.

and

look for me

My Family is now waiting for me to end up in jail, or dead. I hear it is 3 life insurance policies on me just in case I end up dead. That made me feel like all of a sudden I don’t matter anymore. I felt like No one really cared about me.

I was lonely, hurt, and afraid but mostly just

mad at the world and everyone in it, especially people who were over opinionated in their remarks about my life who were not really trying to help.

Now we really need to open up the trap house we talked about cause I need a place to stay. I was tired of sneaking in and out the house. I’m tired of sneaking into my girlfriend's house, through her bedroom windows. I got tired of sleeping in crackheads nasty cribs with roaches. Plus I gotta sleep with one eye open and with a gun in my pocket, washing up in the sink. When we finally got the house for rent is when I learned to run a trap house. It was lovely, no rules, just me, my gun, and my weed, this was the life for a young teen. I had no worries.

What started off as new shoes led to me needing to provide for myself all on my own for everything. I did not know what I was going to do with myself, or where my life was headed, so I just got money, got high, and did not care about it cause I felt like no one cared about me enough to even try to care, or even give me good advice.

Only thing I got was, “You are going to end up in jail, or dead.” I kept hearing about the 3 life insurance policies that my big mouth selfish aunt kept telling me about. It was like she was hinting at me, “Hurry up and die” So she can get paid.

That was when I first felt hatred for my aunt and anyone who was on her side. I felt like my family was just phoney and never really loved me no way. I felt like it was me against the world. I felt like I was living to die and I could not wait.

My life is out of control, but I can not see it cause I did not care about nothing, but me, or anybody that was not trying to help me. I’m living, and running my own traphouse/ crackhouse cause I would let the big spenders come in, and chill and smoke. I had bars on the windows, and the doors were reinforced so they would need more than the battering ram that I saw on the T.V. Show cops. My regular customers were adults I knew all my life.. Anybody who smoked crack in that neighborhood knew me, or my homies

My family members who got high would come and buy crack or beg for it. But most of the time, they would try to school me on being a patient drug dealer. In no time, I grew cold and calis with the way I dealt with people cause all I cared about was my money. They taught me who to take shorts from, and who to give credit too cause I did not do that. They taught me how to give out deals, how to have a sales pitch, and to be a better drug dealer. I grew into a true hustler, and earned my respect on the streets.

Now the real problem was this gun I kept on me at all times, I mean at all times, I ate, slept, and took shits with my gun. Even though I was a young hard headed teen gang member with a gun, I never gangbanged with anyone. But if you came at me with it, then I was with whatever. I mean whatever.

Looking back on how all that affects me now, and the many lessons I learned. All I really needed was someone to give me guidance on how to be a man and help me understand the error of my ways and what damage I could do if I go about doing things the wrong way.

Someone to teach me how to do things the positive way.

All because I wanted new shoes, I ended up changing my whole life. Which showed me many things,but mainly that I can do anything that I want, when I put my mind to it, good or bad.

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