It's Forgivable 01-16-2017

It’s Forgivable 01-16-2017

Raamse Morris

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

It’s Forgivable 01-16-2017 Raamse Morris

This weekend was the start of my downfall.

Friday, I just got off work. My mom pulling in the driveway. I get out the car, walking up to the porch, take out my phone. Wondering how I’m going to spend the weekend. With my pregnant girlfriend who’s 8 months, or fuck off with my cousin who’s been trying to hang all week. But there was me, on my own, relaxing and chilling all by myself.

I guess I’ll have some fun with Cuz, since I ain’t seen him in a while. I called him on the phone with fun on my mind. He answer talking like himself, was thinking the same thing. I told him to get his dad to drop him off, then the weekend was on me.

So he got to my house. I’d been on my phone with my girlfriend, asking about some money. It made me a little irritated, but then I seen Cuz. This is my chance to get out the convo with her.

“I’ll call you later,” I told her. She hung up in my face. I smile at the attitude I just received.

“Wassup, Cuz.” I give him some dap and told him about how life’s doing me. Then he told me about the suburbs life. I cut in, saying, “We ’bout to get lit throughout the whole weekend.” I’m excited. Call the weed man. We went to the store, get the Swisher and E&J, some snacks, and back to my OG house we go. My mom knows what’s going on. All she says is, “Be careful.”

Off to my sister house.

We walk about six blocks with food, liquor, and a party pack. Not a squad in sight. We get there, knock on her door ’cause no doorbell. She answer with a funny joke like, “Who y’all and what y’all want?” (all ghetto). We laughed. Things was just getting started. We walked in, the bags in our hands. “Where my nieces and nephews?” I said. They came running out their room, laughing and smiling.

The joy I felt. As the day gone on, the smoking start and the cups are passed out (not to the kids, just saying for the thinker). But we’re having a good time, when the phone calls started from my mother.

The first call is about the dogs at home, whining to be let out in the backyard. She was asking me to go all the way back home. I talked her into taking the dogs, and letting her dog and mine out in the yard without me coming back home. Back to the funny mome nt where everybody was under the influence, acting crazy, playing cards, having a ball!

Sleep was dream-lovely. Then the phone rang, interrupting slee p that the weed and liquor left me in. “Hello?” I said, with the throbbi ng in my head. I heard, “Come get these dogs from whining.” I say, “Aight, on my way” (click). The call end. Where my shoe? Where my weed? Where my cousin?

LOL, in that order, the thoughts rac e through my head. Got to walk home, too. The fun ended.

Still got a day of this weekend. I thought, Let’s roll up before we walk. We can do that while we walk. The walk was from 123rd and Wentwor th to 115th and Lafayette. We got to the hous e high as a kite. I open the door to the odor of dog shit and piss. I know I’m going to hear this.

Now the alarm system fire off, front door open.

She screams my name. I know her location in the house. The headache returns. I let the dogs out of the cage into the yard, 2 pitbulls. Shadow was black with a white nose and Queen was light brown with a red nose and black stripes.

Then I walked upstairs.

“Them dogs stinking up my house. Why you take so long getting here? You do this ever y time I give you what you want.”

“I’m going to fix it. Calm down.” I turn my way “You going to listen to me.”

to the stairs.

“I’m going to clean it.”

“Do you want to smell shit all day?”

Walking down the stairs, opening the back door, making lots of noise on purpose. Pulli ng the cage full of shit and piss down the porch stair s. The dog runs up, happy to be alive. Jump on me, put the shit on me. Cuz walk out ther e, as I take off running after the dog. He start ed laughing ’cause I couldn’t keep up with him.

I eventually gave up the chase and finished cleaning the cage with a water hose. Then I was looking for a little payback, sprayed the dogs so there’s no shit and piss on them to walk back in the house. As I brought the cage and them back in the house, I seen my mom was cooking in the kitchen.

Hungry from my high, eyes red, I go right to the frying pan. Stomach growling, I said, “Do you need some help?” Wondering, Is she still mad? As I turn to her, she said, “Get the waffles out the freezer.” Three steps away from where I stand, I grabbed them, then ran upstairs to get ready for a shower. As I get to the stairs, I said, “Just put mines in the microwave,” as I stroll past to the bathroom.

I get out the shower and look at my phone. I had a missed call from bae. I texted her good morning. She texted back, “Good morning love, I need you to come put this crib together today.”

I texted, “I’m going to do it but I can't today, I got my cousin with me.” That was pretty much the conversation, and she wanted $120. I told her I loved her and was going to call her when she got off work (“love you”). Then I ate my food and started to play the game, from time to time looking at Facebook on my phone.

Cuz finally appeared from the bathroom, playing music. He said, “What we on today?” I said, “Shit, I don't know.” We ended up playing the game and playing on the computer, rapping some funny little song we had made up, smoking and laughing. I bet that we weren't going to post them, and he ended up posting them to prove me wrong. He got some views—some, like nothing too crazy—but we had something like bonding time, if I would call it anything.

Sunday came so fast. I woke up, looked at my phone, and saw that today was the Super Bowl.

The Falcons and the Patriots. Cuz walked in my room, saying that he just got off the phone with his pops, and if it’s cool, he stay one more day. I asked why he said he wanted to stay. He said that my aunt was having a party, and we were going tonight with my mom and that she told him this morning. So I get up and go to her room. She’s on the phone talking about how her team, Green Bay, didn’t make the Super Bowl, and how she was still going to wear her team’s colors.

“Mom, we going to a party?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Did he call his daddy?”

My cousin heard her and responded, “Yeah.”

I walked out, saying, “Bet,” and went to see what I was going to wear. Cuz followed. The team he liked was the Patriots, red, white, and blue. I was wearing gray. My favorite color is gray because it’s in between black and white.

Night came and we were all dressed up. My mom taking her time, talking about she doesn't want to be the first or last person there. Putting on eyelashes, makeup, her hair, she called it. Her jersey had 49 on the 4XL. I can't remember the name on the back. She threw on her coat and other Green Bay attire. Then I said, “Let me drive.” She said, “Maybe tonight on the way home?” I told Cuz, “See, she be letting me drive.” We got in the car and off to the party we went.

We pulled up to my aunt’s house.

This was also the first time I’ve ever been here. She just had a divorce and moved on like 112th and Aberdeen. So we get out of the car. There’s like 7 or 8 cars in front. I knew three of the cars: my aunt’s Chrysler 300, my Uncle Chuck’s black F-150 four-door truck, my cousin Little Mike’s red Cadillac. I ring the doorbell, and Chuck answered the door. “What it do, nephew, wassup?” he said, with a quick dap.

I pass him to see what the house looking like. A small hallway leads to the living room, which had a 70-inch on the wall. The couch was off-white recliners with brown wood, 2 glass tables on each end, and the coffee table was glass. The floor was dark brown hardwood. It was an open layout house. There were stairs in the corner of the dining room that led to the basement.

There was a bar there, and she had a silver or gray pool table. Brand new!

The drinking started. My aunt said to not burn the table with ashes, but it was okay for us to smoke. We was playing pool, eating her cook ing, and watching the game. Also for the mos t part, we stopped everything once the Patriots started coming back from being down 30 poin ts.

Chuck was telling me I could come work with him once I got my GED. I was telling him that I would, and that I was working and in the stree ts. He said I got to start saving money or it will all be for nothing, to get a bank account. “Yea hhhhh!� I responded, after my cuz cut in whe n the Patriots scored a touchdown.

For some reason, I started thinking about all the money I been spend ing lately, and that I had a son on the way. I felt I could use another shot of liquor to wash down the duty of responsibility weighing on my shoulders. Then I set on the couch a while, lookin g at the time and at Facebook. I looked over to my mom. She was playing cards at the dining room table, going hard, sweating.

So I got up, went over to her, watched a couple of hands, but really she was just drunk. She’s a loud, heavy-set woman that has a funny way of expressing hersel f. I just noticed how much brown she had in her eyes, with a blue circle around the brown. A while later, the Super Bowl ended. The Patriots won, and it was time to go.

My mom said, “Do you think you can drive?” I said, “Yeah, I’m straight,” and then my little cousin said he can drive. That kinda felt like he was stepping on my toes. My mom seen the look on my face, then she gave me the key. We said our goodbyes and got in the car. She was scared at first, telling me to slow the fuck down. I did. We got to Halsted.

She said, “Go to White Castle,” so I went through the drive-thru. I said, “What you want?” She said, “Get a 50 pack, and some chicken rings and four Pepsis.” We got the food then I drove home.

I pulled in the driveway at the crib. We seen the dog outside in the yard. My mom said, “Bring my dogs in the house.” We got out the car with the bags of food, wind blowing, concrete steps, iron handrails. Keys unlocked the door. The alarm fires off, front door open, I rush to put the code in. My mom rushes to the bathroom. I told Cuz to get the game out the bookbag by the couch, as I went to put dog food in the cage. Then went off to get the dogs from outside. As I'm unhooking the dogs, a car pulls in my driveway behind my mom’s car, then pulls out, then stops in front. My dog takes off running like they both was freezing.

Now my phone goes off. It’s bae, and I answer. My mom went in her room, Cuz at the table eating some sliders and chicken rings.

Bae said, “Hello, I’m outside. Please give me my $120 I asked for.”

“How you get here?” I said.

“My mom’s car, my sister brought me, ” she replied.

“Aight, here I come.” Walking to the fron t door, I grabbed my wallet out my poc ket. Before I walked out the door, I counted $120 then stuck it back in my pocket, thinking , She always want some money. I opened the door and stepped out to the passenger side.

I said, “Hey,” and then leaned in for them sweet lips that I was in love with. She asked for the money. I handed it to her, then she ask ed when I’m going to put together the crib for the baby.

Then I remembered my sister had gav e me the baby bed for the crib, so I said , “Wait, since you here, take it with you, right.” I ran bac k in lightning speed to the basement.

In the corner, brand new baby bed. I got it then ran back to the car.

The whole time, my mom watched the house’s cameras. It's a delay on them. By the time I was on my way back from saying goodbye and they drove off, my mom was calling me to see what was going on.

I went to her room. She said, “Why the door open at 3am?” and I told her.

She got mad, super mad fast. “Why you giving people shit out of my house?” I blew her off by saying, “Calm down, my sister told me I could have it.” Then she went on to say everything in the house was hers, and it’s up to her to give it out. I walked off, like I’m not about to argue about a baby bed she ain’t using. So I tried to change the conversation by saying, “Let me get a cigarette.” She said she ain’t giving me shit, and to get out of her house. “I ain't going nowhere,” I said, “I pay bills too, and I’m on the lease, so stop that.” I closed her door and stormed out.

About ten seconds later, she came out after me and told me to leave her house.

She sat at the table arguing with me. I said I wasn’t leaving because I was drunk, then she said that I just drove home. I said, “My sister house was six blocks away.” She responded, “You always running over there anyway.” Then I said, “You gone have to call the police to get me to leave.” She then got up and grabbed a cup from the dish rack. It was a Chuck E. Cheese cup.

Then grabbed the gas can that was sitting on the floor—the gas can was there because I was cutting grass earlier that day. While she was grabbing all this stuff, she said that she was going to set me on fire. I was thinking it was a scare tactic.

me on fire in front of my the cup, I said, “So you gone set in gas the r pou to rted sta she As of fact, gone to jail. How stupid is that? Matter go e gon You se. hou r you is cousin, and this .” So as she sat down, she not! I’m not going to run from you I’m ? red sca you at Wh it. do d hea my house!”

I raised. You ain’t my son. Get out said, “Fuck you, you ain’t the son ing, she lit a out some matches. As I was talk led pul and wer dra hen kitc the She pulled out first one went out in the air.

Then she threw a match at me. The . me at gas the w thre and tch w it. ma eyes. She lit another one then thre my in r fea out with t,” ugh tho I I said, “Right, like Bam I'm on fire.

The match hit my shoulder on my left, and my hoodie was on fire burning. My first thought was that it hurt. I tried to put it out with my right arm, and it was on fire. Next, my chest from the zipper. I take off the hoodie, and as I'm doing that, my hair catches on fire.

My face hurts, I can’t scream anymore. I can barely even breathe.

I feel my mother brush past me. I fall, then I roll around on the black carpet in the living room. I get up, then run upstairs. As I run to the stairs, my mom was in the room. She was grabbing something like a cover, I think. My cousin was frozen in the same spot that he watched the whole thing.

t was in the like, Wow! I looked in the mirror tha t, tha did she ed pris sur felt I s, As I went upstair were burned to the meat, nt. My chest was burnt. My arms bur e fac ole wh My s. tair ups y hallwa I wasn’t really s pumping my blood. I was hurt. vein the see ld cou I k. pin and they were white n the stairs. First thing I mma just burnt me. I walked dow mo My , was k thin ld cou I all but angry, his phone. by the back door, and he was on om hro bat the out ing com sin seen was my cou glass table n she come out the room, flip the The .” me nt bur she n, “Ma , said I walk to him and ” ke him to the hospital! He’s dying! and it breaks. My cousin said, “Ta ve me to?! I’m gone! I'm the floor. “Fuck, see what you dro on fire the out ting put rts sta She going to jail,” she said.

All I could think was, Momma, you burnt m e. “Let’s go. We are She grabbed her keys going to the hospita and went out the fro l,” she said. nt door. The cold wi nothing but my shoe nd made me feel naked s and joggers on. I ra with n to the car.

I tried to open the do or, but my finger wo uldn’t pull the handle.

The blood didn’t help My cousin seen me . He helped me get in struggling. the car, then he got driving, the whole tim in the back. My mom e no noise. The whole got to time just saying, “Mom ma, you burnt me!”

We arrived at the ho spital. I rushed out to the waiting room. “H the floor and into the elp! I’ve been set on darkness of my eyeli fire!” I fell on ds.

Seven days later, I wake up. Water dripping on my face from the ceiling of the hospital room. I was in pain, a pain I never felt before. My whole torso was in pain, I couldn’t talk, my arms were in casts that the doctors put there. The nurse came in because the heart monitor was beeping, because my heart was racing. “He’s woke,” the doctor said. “Give him some pain meds.”

face was s, that I couldn’t talk and my ide ins my d rne bu I me d tol t of my life. Then the My family walked in and about being ugly for the res ht ug tho I . cry s wa do uld jail. burned. All I co . Then they said she was in art he my in s wa k ac yb pa anger came. The want for re was nothing I could do,

ew the I felt helpless because I kn

just live with it.

Two months after that moment, my pregnant girlfriend had my baby.

I left the hospital to see him born and give him my name. I ended up going to my brother's house to live with him.

He had to tell me to not let her control my life with what she had

done to me.

yed to the point of no

betra My whole life I’ve been

return.

ily. Maybe my get to handpick my fam n’t did re su I at. th y times that me, if I can sa if you ask me. But some , ok to er I guess my life chose ev it all is n e was too late to s. A strong connectio na of the people I chos friends and my mistake rso pe e th or n, tio ec rsonal conn wasn’t too good of a pe ship was destroyed. catch before a relation

yourself, but it’s there. It’s up to Sometimes you pretend not to see the false friendship to protect did you choose? you to see it. To be honest, there’s white, gray, black. What color was the dark life, the street Mines was gray. I got to see white, the good ordinary life. Then black either side, in the gray, you’re life, like everything you wish just didn’t exist. I guess if you’re on straddling the fence. weight off the Roman scale, or A wise man once told me it’s living the best of both worlds. It’s the view. That being said, I’ve been just the curb in between the street and the grass. I’ve had a 360 way. through a bumpy road. I got to figure out how to live my life the right To me, there’s one way to live my life, and it’s the righteous every

which way.

it hold you down and I guess going through bad things has three outcomes: you can let destroy you, you can hide it, or face it. the flashbacks of the I’ve been through all three stages. Looking at the scars every day, all the time. Then there's moments, dreaming about the person who did it to me. Just anger the fears, the trying to hide it, never talking about it, never. Looking for a way around own story. thoughts, the guilt, throwing away reason or walking away from my story. Showing off the Then there is facing it, going toe-to-toe with everything, telling my ng me. Find the love scars of my life and asking for help, seeing why the dreams are haunti ’cause of how I look with that I lost, finding my smile, and living on without regret or scared the burns.

Raamse Morris I am from over east, From guns and loud weed.

I am from the gunshots, Kids dying, momma crying, more lose kids.

I am from running blocks hard, long concrete.

I am from you shot and get shot, From Morris and Perry, I’m from fake love and fuck love, From never trust and no feels.

I am from Chicago, seafood salad, And homemade pork chops, From you have to forgive to be forgiven.

Until the lion learns to write his own story, tales of the hunt will always glorify the hunter - African Proverb Copyright Š 2019 ConTextos