A DEFINING MOMENT
BY R. MIRANDA
At the age of 13, I found myself on my own. It was a conscience choice I made as an alternative to living in the hostile environment that was my childhood household. Dad was an abusive, drug using alcoholic … enough said.
My new home became, what were in those days referred to as, “The Mean Streets” of L.A. Although I was a high school drop-out (having only completed the 9th grade), I soon started my college education. I call it my college education because it was nothing like I could or would have learned in high school.
My classrooms were various youth homes and JDH. My professors were my fellow juvenile delinquents. I majored in Survival in the Concrete Jungle with a minor in the Performing Arts.
It didn't take long to learn that if I acted like a bad-ass, and put on an Oscar-winning performance, people tended to leave me alone and steered clear of me. Some even respected me, albeit in a very twisted way. I earned my degree in short time.
Life became a series of placements in one juvenile facility after another, which was always followed by some version of me going AWOL or outright escaping, with a GTA, grand theft auto, added on just for good measure. Somehow, I always returned to those same old mean streets that had become my home. I often wondered why people referred to those familiar neighborhoods as being dangerous, and "no place to be after dark." For me they offered me a sense of safety and peace, especially as night would fall.
It wouldn't be until nearly 10 years later that I finally realized, as I sat on Death Row, that I was the monster in the dark that people feared — like I said, it was an Oscar-winning performance.
My time in the crucible as I kindly refer to my time spent on the row brought for me many insights, and the occasional duh moments. Perhaps the most defining moment happened about a year into my stay as a few thoughts built upon one another. The first came to me during an ongoing stream of conversations in my head (something I experienced quite often in those days.) I'm not sure if I was actually talking to God, manifesting itself as a voice in my sub-conscience, or some more practical part of my sub-conscience that I was finally able to hear. Either way, the voice was certainly offering sage insight.
The conversation went something like this: God, why am I here? And when I asked this question, it WAS NOT in reference to the horrible crime that brought me here. That is all too clear, and sadly, beyond recompense. No, the why I was thinking about was more along the lines of a how. “How is it that I find myself here? How is it that people that know nothing about me can say that I am worthless? How is it that, on the inside, I often thought of myself as a good man, yet on the outside, all that people see is a monster. And this is when the light slowly started to come on. It wasn't all at once; it was more like some slowly turning the dimmer switch to the on position. The voice said, “You're right, you are a good man. But if all you ever show the world is a bad ass how will they ever know anything different? How can they possible see you in any other light?”
Talk about a duh moment! It brought me to a place where I could see a clear picture of what direction my life needed to go in, and more so, exactly what I needed to change. So back to school I went. My first order of business was to literally get my GED. | RM