Thug in Me by Karen Williams

I came out the pussy swinging!”
    I laughed at the comment but didn’t really believe he was telling the truth about being on the Olympic team.
    â€œBefore this shit I was the man, baby!”
    â€œNow what?” I asked, suddenly believing him. We were in prison; why would he lie?
    He stopped and stood facing me. “Now nothing. I’m in here. My dream of having a career as a boxer is over.”
    I nodded.
    â€œBut I ain’t gonna be in here forever. I’m gonna get out this bitch soon.”
    I didn’t say anything. I wanted to ask him how he pulled that off. Maybe he didn’t, maybe he had pretty much done all of his time. I told myself this ’cause I didn’t want give myself any type of hope and then it gets shot down. So I was scared to even ask him his opinion about my situation. I didn’t even wanna bring it up.
    How I felt didn’t stop him from asking, “What about you, homie? You feel comfortable telling me what you did?”
    After what he just admitted to me, how could I not?
    â€œMurder.”
    â€œWhat? Why the fuck you kill somebody? They say the quiet niggas are the ones you gotta watch out for.”
    â€œI didn’t. The shit don’t make a bit of sense to me. One minute I’m living my life and the next the cops are busting in my house and are beating my ass. Then I’m in jail for murder. The icing on the cake is having a man I never seen before in my life, testify against me and say that I shot an officer I also ain’t never seen before in my life.”
    â€œThat is some crazy shit, man.” He sat on his bed while saying, “What’s even crazier is the fact that it has happened to so many men in here.”
    I nodded. That gave me hope that someone would believe me. But then his next sentence shot me right back down.
    â€œYou know what’s even crazier?” he asked me.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThat they are never freed. They end up dying in this bitch. Dying fucking innocent.”
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    A few hours later, during rec, I thought back to Tyson’s words in the cell: the prison politics. He said in prison the only people you are allowed to congregate with are those that look just like you: black men. If I was ever caught kicking it with a white, Asian or Hispanic, I would be considered a traitor and possibly killed. It went that way for the other races as well. I saw that segregation alive and well here. And it was here on the yard. Hell, I didn’t want see it now but it was my reality.
    But to be honest, I kind of wanted to stay separated from all of them and not be associated with anybody. So I tried to keep a low profile and keep myself isolated on the yard. I waved a hand at Tyson, who kept gesturing for me to come over to where he was with the blacks. The dudes that came to the cell and checked me about the corn bread were present in that group. And they kept glaring at me.
    I started walking the track by myself, hoping I could clear what was left of my mind. I was surprised that I hadn’t went crazy yet. I missed my mom and Toi. I still had not heard from Toi. I kept telling myself that she was probably dealing with the shock of her man going from being in her face to being behind bars. Because those other thoughts, like maybe she was done with me or moved on to another man, were sure to drive me crazy. I already had enough to worry about. I had to find a way to get myself out of this prison. I had to. That is what was keeping me going: Knowing I needed to come up with some way out.
    I continued to walk on the track. I kept my distance from the other men walking on it. So when I heard some sets of feet walking behind me, I increased my speed.
    They increased theirs also.
    I tilted my head to the right slightly, to see who was walking behind me.
    Shit. It was two big corn-fed-looking Hispanic dudes.
    I closed my eyes briefly. I knew they were going to give me heat for the shit that went