African history was not a part of my upbringing. I was about survival. No different from any other African child who grew up impoverished in the North. I didn’t worry about our heritage I worried about food. I didn’t think about race, I thought will me and my homies make it if this fool comes out shooting again on our route to school. I saw the landlord feeling up my cousin for rent and wondered, “is this why we are not evicted?” Church was an escape from reality. Jesus, yeah, I will take the knowledge but we really here to escape the madness and chaos of home. Ida B. Wells was no joke. Neither was Robert Taylor or Stateway Gardens.

My grandmother only sang on Sunday because that was the only dad grandpa didn’t make her bleed. He kept America’s sabbath holy but reigned hell on her Mon-Sat after drinking. We played with aunties needles after she used them. I saw her do things with men that are embedded deep in my psyche. Same for mom.

Sex was introduced very young, age of three. It only intensified. Prey, predators, you name it happen. No history, no need, it was survival of the fittest. No parents, that abandonment never leaves you. It stays. Frightened, scared, love reaches out, takes you in but those who love you most you treat the worst. We reconciled before she died. The last 7 years of her life felt like mother and son, rest on Al Jo! God always has an angel for me, Joyce Craft showed up the night I was going to call it quits, five of the best days of my life where shared in her home. I was too afraid to tell her I was homeless. No African history, I was in survival mode. Cuz came, had her own daughter but I was too fragile, too broken but she taught me how to pray. I ran away, found dad but them projects was too rough, another angel came, I call her Ma. She’s my heart, I felt love. All we knew was survival. No history, unintentional, but in my blood was my ancestors DNA from middle passage, broken, raped, shamed, beaten, abused, used, lost in a foreign land. But we couldn’t give up we kept on pressing. I am here, Jesus, 360, what do you want? I don’t believe in you, why are you following me. What, salvation, can’t resist, yes I can, clubs, porn, drinks, partying. This is life, empty, searching, dying, drink in hand, no desire, past me a square, no taste for it, bumb that gangsta rap, no stop, it’s killing my people. Wait, my people, who are we? History lessons begin, hospital, neurosurgeon, “Tony, Black people were the first brain surgeons in Egypt, study your history, you should know that”. Wow, really. Had no clue, Egypt, is that near Africa, bruh, it’s in Africa, the country, bruh its a continent, come on Black man let me school you. That’s so dope. Jesus, 180, yo, why you keep running up on me, they used you to enslave us old blue-eyes. That’s them, not me. Come, believe. Life, turned over, walking by faith, saved, from what. My people still in chains. Saved from what, we still losing, saved from what. Feed my sheep, feed my sheep, feed my sheep. Saul to Paul, no more Sco Loco, you are The Endurer. Come out from among them. Leave her alone, no, she’s fine. She’s married, she’s mine, she belongs to someone else, I need her. You need me, fine, I will stop. I can’t call her, this walk is hard. I need to get right with you Lord, againstbyou have I sinned, like David, and you alone.

This me working through really hard, rough, disturbing memories because God is stirring me up to birth somethings. I can’t take these babies dying. It’s heartbreaking. I am not a Christian by mistake, I am called for such a time as this!

This book is my work and it’s print on demand of it will process to print after you order. Please invest in me. I believe God for a million orders through my publisher so I can have the freedom to continue the work of mentoring.

I wrote this and posted it on Facebook on 6/25/2020, and hour before I received a call from my brother that my nephew was gunned down like a dog at his home in the presence of his sister. I had no idea how impactful this sharing would be at the time. I have to leave corporate, I have to be financially free so I can do the work of a servant in these streets and deliver our children from themselves. Your investment in this book will help me get there. Thank you for your consideration.

The Endurer

Drops of Ink: Trials of the Endurer