Following my brother's passing, I was engulfed in sadness and felt compelled to honor his memory. Challenges marked his life. From a youthful age, serving jail time for minor offenses, often serving sentences of 18 months or more—penalties that his white peers would have avoided with a mild reprimand. My parents' lack of advocacy for his freedom only compounded the issue. I recall my father once remarking that my brother's mistake was getting caught, suggesting he could have evaded jail by being more strategic.
Nevertheless, my father never approved of his actions, believing incarceration was safer than the risks of theft. The repeated incarcerations began to wear on him. Struggling with substance use disorder, he frequently found himself behind bars.
I admired my brother, seizing any chance to spend time with him upon visits to Chicago. He often hid from me due to his addiction, and I was able to redirect similar paths finally. Yet, when I saw him after release, he was joyful, and we would embark on adventures, reminiscing about our childhood. As the youngest of eight, he was the youngest boy child, number seven, and I was the youngest overall. We enjoyed parks, movies, and conversations about life. I understood my brother and his trauma, which many attributed to our parents' divorce. However, observing his behavior, I recognized patterns of addiction and the impact of his incarcerations, leading to depression, low self-esteem, and institutionalization. On the day he died, we had recently buried our mother. I had urged him to quit using drugs over our phone conversation, but that very night, he succumbed to a fentanyl overdose in my heart. I felt deep sadness and hurt due to his passing and not even months before the passing of my mother due to congestive heart failure. However, Grace continues to keep me. Not only did my parents not understand his battle with addiction, but he also was failed by the system, which deemed him and other young black men as SUPER PREDATORS
The Benjamin House will be an integrated approach to health and healing for those suffering from various social disparities in a system designed to marginalize those they deem unnecessary for redemption and saving.
Reflecting on the complexities of his struggles, I realized that his addiction was not just a personal battle but a reflection of more significant societal issues. The stigma surrounding addiction, especially within marginalized communities, often leads to a lack of understanding and support. My brother's experiences with incarceration only worsened his mental health, pushing him further into a cycle of despair. Despite my efforts to reach out and offer help, the grip of addiction proved to be stronger. The loss of my brother so soon after our mother's passing left a void in my heart that seemed insurmountable. The pain of losing two loved ones in such a brief period was overwhelming. Yet, amidst the grief and sorrow, I found solace in honoring their memories through meaningful actions. Establishing The Benjamin House as a sanctuary for those facing similar challenges became my mission. I envisioned a place where individuals could find compassion, understanding, and holistic support to overcome the societal barriers that often perpetuate cycles of addiction and incarceration. By addressing the root causes of these issues and providing a safe space for healing, I hoped to break the cycle of marginalization and offer a beacon of hope for those in need. In memory of my brother and mother, I dedicated myself to advocating for a more compassionate and inclusive approach to supporting individuals battling addiction and navigating the complexities of our societal systems. The Benjamin House stand as a tribute to their lives and a testament to the resilience and strength that can emerge from moments of profound loss and adversity.
Comments