One Black Family's Life on One Cold South Chicago Day
The alarm goes of at 5:30 AM and it's a another cold winter morning on the south side of Chicago. It's time to get the kids ready for school. After a quick wash up, the Air Jordans are laced up, the backpacks are packed up, and it's a short ride on the elevator to the ground floor to meet friends for the short walk to school. And the best part of school is the free breakfast, free lunch and an after school snack served for those who qualify economically. And on the south side of Chicago, everybody qualifies. You know this story. It's Jimmie Walker's Good-Times, only with guns.
It's 7:30 AM and a mother of four kisses her man goodbye as she grabs her metro pass and heads to work as a $12 an hour debt collector for a downtown collections agency. At 27 hours per week, the only benefits the job offers are generous smoking breaks and the satisfaction of harassing White people on the north side of Chicago who can't pay their bills. Beyond that, it's just hard, stressful and depressing work. Still, it's a job and on the south side of Chicago, even a bullshit job means something.
It's 1:30 PM and the man of that hard working, stressed out and depressed $12 an hour debt collector is getting ready for work. After a quick shit, shower and shave, he grabs a gat, his smartphone and his product. This man is in sales and distribution and he's in it in a big way. He arrives at his place of business around 2:15 PM to meet his sales force and security team. And on the corner of "whatcha need?" Street and "Whatcha lookin' for?" Avenue, this local "business man" strategizes with his crew. He's planning on enjoying a profitable evening.
It's 3:30 PM and Mom is on the bus en-route to bullshit job number two, as a $9 an hour after school monitor at the community center in her public housing project. She'll do 2-1/2 hours there until about six. It's grueling work dealing with hard-headed kids of other overworked and underpaid parents. But a dollar is a dollar, especially when your man's business (as lucrative as it is) can come to an abrupt end at any time.
It's 11:45 PM. The kids are in bed. Suddenly, there's a loud and persistent banging on the door. At the same time, mom's cellphone is ringing. It's her man calling. She's poised to answer, but the banging on the door won't stop. Is it her homegirl next door getting her ass kicked again? Is there a fire in the building? Is it the police? Please don't let it be the police, she thinks. But she can't think clearly. The kids are in the bedroom asleep and Mom knows their slumber won't last much longer as the banging on the door keeps getting louder by the second.
She answers her cell phone. It's her man. He's telling her to empty the contents of a bag under the bed into the toilet and to do it right now. And whatever she does, she's not to open the door until the toilet is flushed. Too late, the door is smashed in and an army of cops quickly follow. Mom is on the floor and cuffed before she can blink, let alone protest. The oldest are awakened and cuffed. Child Services are on the way for the little ones. Dogs are now sniffing all over everything, while the police toss the apartment looking for product.
Bingo, a couple of pounds of the finest high-grade Kush this side of India is found right where Mom's man said it would be. And this is the expensive shit, because the street value equals a felony. If only he'd called ten minutes earlier. The phone had stopped ringing long ago now and Mom is alone, being questioned with no lawyer or witnesses present. The police wanted to know where her man, his friends and his real stash was and they weren't asking nicely. It was obvious, somebody ratted her man out.
In certain neighborhood businesses, there are only two ways to eliminate competition. While the preferred method is murder, the less confrontational option is to just drop a dime on a mother-fucker. In the "Hood", it's dog eat dog. It's every man for himself. It's where only the strong survives. When a majority of Black males in the community have been saddled with a felony before the age of consent, self employment becomes the norm and an accepted fact of life. Mom knows this is the norm and that's why she accepts is as a fact of her life, as did her mom and her mom before her.
With little if any education or marketable skills, the types of products and services convicted felons like her man can offer, are generally limited to pharmaceutical sales (aka drug dealing), security (aka protection for drug dealing and sometimes prostitution), collections (aka strong-arm work), vehicle removal services (aka grand theft auto) and of course the old standby, five finger discounting services (aka shoplifting). Every once in a great while, some bullshit job comes along where you don't have to "check the box", but it's a bullshit job and bullshit jobs can't support a man, a mom and their four kids. In this world, you do what you gotta do, to do what you gotta do.
Bottom line: It's 5:30 AM and the kids won't be in class today, because of what happened yesterday. Mom could be fired from her job because of yesterday. Mom could face eviction from her public housing apartment because of yesterday. Mom's man is now a wanted man because of yesterday. And that's just one day in the life of one mom, one man and four kids on one cold day on the south side of Chicago. While it's not a pretty story, it's a common one. It's a story that can be found in almost every Black and poverty stricken community in America. So think before you judge. Podcast below.
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