Thug in Me by Karen Williams Page B

attacked.
    â€œMan, they got you again.”
    I didn’t say anything. I just got on my bunk and stared up at the ceiling, wondering if they would come for me again.
    â€œAll that shit that nigga said about let them deal with the other shit and none of y’all didn’t do shit to help me.”
    â€œNigga, I couldn’t. You not riding with us. I would have got fucked up if I jumped in.”
    I sat up in the bed. “Who is us ?” I demanded.
    â€œThe blacks. You turned your backs on us on the yard. When you decide to join us that’s when you will get protected, but you keep walking around here like we your enemies. And word is that those southsiders are planning some shit. But then again, they always planning some shit. Remember, if you ever hear them say this sound, sur , it’s on and you better be ready to fight, ’cause them southsiders will be coming for your black ass.”
    â€œHave you been in a riot before?”
    He pulled the sheet back, stood a little off the toilet, and pulled up his shirt to show me a long scar across his chest. “Yes, a couple times, and in the last one I almost didn’t make it out.”
    â€œDon’t they try to break it up?” I was referring to the guards and the warden.
    â€œThey let us fight for a minute, then they do what they can to contain it. They throw tear gas and eventually move on to firing shots. But they are never able to contain it without calling in outside police. Just remember this: The riots are a double-edged sword. On one hand, if a man is coming for you, you have to protect yourself, but on the other hand you don’t want it to look like you’re a part of it. So get as far away from it as you can. ”
    I frowned and placed my hands behind my head.
    Tyson flushed the toilet and went to the sink to wash his hands. “Look, I hate these prison politics just as much as you do. Matter a’ fact, I acted just like you did when I first got here. I was pissed off that I was even in this bitch and said fuck the world. Eventually I had to realize that I couldn’t make it in here alone. I came here when I was twenty. And now I’m thirty years old. And I feel like I may be getting a year older every year, but my mentality in a sense has never caught up with how old I am because I have no real living to show for the amount of time I’ve been on this earth because ten years of my living has been in here. Dawg, this is a fucked-up place to be. You’re in the other version of hell. That’s some crazy shit. Your life is always going to be a struggle while you’re in here. I mean, that’s if you want to stay alive.”
    Maybe dying wasn’t a bad alternative to being in here, I thought.
    He continued. “But following the prison politics is what kept me alive. You can’t be a loner here. You’re gonna have to pick a side. That’s how it is. This shit is more like a game and the same common sense you use on the streets you gotta use in here. Where you from?”
    â€œI’m no thug. I have never gangbanged but I lived in the Springdales.”
    â€œFuck gangbanging I never gangbanged either. I don’t care if you ain’t never gangbanged. I ain’t talking about that. It’s about having thug in you.”
    He took a deep breath. “Put it like this. If you grew up in the projects and you made it out, you’re a thug. If your mama raised you alone and you made something of yourself, you a thug. It’s not about gangbanging or going around robbing people. It’s about knowing how to survive with the bare minimum. It’s always about having an edge to you that gets you out of bullshit. Being able to make a dollar out of fifteen cents. Making something out of nothing, man. And if you repressed that thug in you, you better let that shit come back out ’cause it’s that thug in you that’s going to keep you alive in