Hood Bound, Money and Power

Kern County, Bakersfield is where it all began. Phil, Cyrus, Man-man, and I sitting on the stoop of Kern County projects, sippin’ on Kool-Aid slushies’, bustin’ licks from the corner store, and crackin’ hella jokes on the dope fiend, dancing in the courtyard. Where I became a man, at a young age. With all the drama of the hood. I dreamed of greener pastures. Had to be more to life than the first and the fifteenth...

All could be lost in the blink of an eye. Bad decisions, lies, deceit, and betrayal only begets death. After graduating high school, I was determined to get the hell out of the cesspool they called Kern County. There my future was already set in stone. I was the school mascot. The most valuable player. I often wondered how long that would last if I happened to fall and break my ankle or tear a ligament. I knew one thing. I wasn’t going to stand around and wait for that to happen. My cousin Phil was too hard headed to listen to a damn thing I had to say. I guess I was the young and naive one. Some of this turned out to be true. Leaving the hood in search for a better life, wasn’t all fun and games. Matter of fact it was treacherous. They say the good often die young. Well I did, in the confines of a jail cell, trying to uphold the laws of loyalty and respect. My soul was crushed.

I often reverted back to graduation day. My cousin Phil threw me a party. I got drunk as fuck. Nearly missed my bus the following day headed to boot camp. I was an official “Jar Head,” a true Marine. I wore that uniform with such pride. I never would have thought I would be seated on a bus headed straight to prison. “Murder?” Taking the fall for my Sargent was the worst mistake ever. Then again snitching was social suicide, and there was no way my days in the service would last much longer, had I stood up for myself. The murder of a gay marine, spread through the media like a virus. Protestors from all over were outside the gates of the base and court house. The freedom to fight for your country gay or straight was the highlight of the year. I was deemed the bastard that defiled the honor and glory of armed services across branches. I might as well have stood outside the White House and burned the American Flag. I was guilty anyhow. I saw how badly, that man was being treated. It wasn’t my business. Another rule of the hood I carried with me. Number one, no snitching. Number two, mind your own damn business. They go hand in hand really.

Even the schools labeled us as underachievers. Kern County Project kids had their own class, as if we weren’t good enough to circulate with the general public. Our test scores weren’t recorded with standardized testing. We were segregated. I was determined to make a better life for myself. In the end, Phil wanted the same.

Change came due to circumstances that caused the both of us to reevaluate our take on life. Friends weren’t friends at all. Women were nothing but gold digging tramps, and laws were just made to be broken. Living on the right side of the fence didn’t mean law abiding citizen. It meant clout. Who had it vs. who had the most.