Church in Chicago

By Andrew Benjamin, "My Testimony"

Growing  in Chicago, Illinois, if there was anything I was familiar with, it was the church and Jesus.  With my father who is a Pastor and my mother who is a Christian, there was no getting out of church.  I remember living in an apartment that was located inside of the church I went to.  I loved my family and appreciated every moment we spent together as a kid.  Unfortunately, I was the youngest of 5 siblings, so I got picked on the most, but it was all love even then.  

As I got older, in school I was teased about my speech impediment and skin color, but I was always good at sports and the fastest runner among my peers.  I loved the physical contact because I would get a chance to prove myself so I would fit in with the crowd.  Everyone respected the "in crowd" and I strived to acquire the same acknowledgement and respect.  Soon, I began fighting and developed a tough guy mentality.  People would talk about my fights and I felt good that I was gaining recognition.  It ignited a fire in me that kept me going day by day, knowing that people were acknowledging and respecting me.

Though I started treading down the wrong road, I always said I wasn't going to waste my life joining a gang, smoke, drink and sell drugs.  At least, that's what I thought.  I felt the way I was living was justified as long as I didn't do any of those specific things.  But, I eventually joined a small "crew" that just hung out and smoked.  They smoked both marijuana and cigarettes.  I wanted acceptance, not cancer, so I always resisted when offered to smoke.  But at home, my dad had just gotten married to his current wife and I fellt she was trying to take over, which wasn't the case, but it led to fights and arguments in the house between my dad, his wife and I.  I didn't like her at the time and took it out on my dad because I felt he loved her more than his kids.  Then one day after an argument between us, I went outside to hang out with the people in my "crew", and after trying weed a few times with no effects, I quickly said yes when they offered me some to smoke.  They asked if my parents cared if I smoked, and lied because I was mad at my dad.  But since then, I never denied requests to smoke and eventually started buying weed for myself.  That was the first promise to myself I broke, but not the last.  

I was introduced by my friends to a few gang members in my neighborhood.  I had also been listening to their music that was on MySpace and YouTube.  It seemed like most of my friends talked about the gang and their music all the time.  I saw the respect they had for

people in the gang, and I saw the communion they had whenever they hung out around the school.  They were feared for all the wrong reasons and I wanted what they had. I was on the fence as someone in the gang kept urging me to join, promising money, weed and females.  But that didn't drive me.  But, one day when I was with him and a few members, we went to the park across the street from a high school which was borderline between their rival gang.  Then the guys I was with started yelling gang chants as school ended and people were leaving.  The rival gang members started yelling back.  I was scared out of my mind because I didn't know what was about to happen, as my heart was beating out of my chest.  But fortunately the other gang never crossed the street and we went back to our neighborhood.  When we did come back, the guy who had been trying to get me in the gang was telling the story to another gang member who wasn't there, but lied to him; telling him I was making gang chants also, when I was as quiet as a mouse.  But he looked at me and said, "yea", like he was impressed with what I did.  I felt respected by someone who many people respected.  And even though I hadn't earned it, it felt good to me and I felt accepted.  That alone motivated me and right afterwards, I joined the gang.

I knew that there were risks to joining the gang, but I didn't expect what I actually experienced.  I was subject to carrying guns. I was disciplined physically if I messed up.  Everywhere I went I always had to look over my shoulder and watch my back from rival gang members.  I've seen people get shot and beat up.  But I still loved just hanging out with the people who were respected.  After I joined the gang, I began to drink and smoke cigarettes because of peer pressure.  But soon I got used to it.  I was smoking weed more an ever and went to a lot of parties that brushed my "popularity" up.  But then again, that wasn't enough for me.  I began a "stealing my dad's car spree".  I loved the adrenaline of being behind the wheel, but my dad was getting tired of it, along with my disrespectful attitude and coming home late at night.  So my parents agreed to send me away to Hawaii, where my older sister was stationed in the army branch of the military.