Writing My Wrongs
Ratings2
Average rating4.5
15
Ratings2
Average rating4.5
"In 1991, Shaka Senghor was sent to prison for second-degree murder. Today, he is a lecturer at the University of Michigan, a leading voice on criminal justice reform, and an inspiration to thousands. In life, it's not how you start that matters. It's how you finish. Shaka Senghor was raised in a middle class neighborhood on Detroit's east side during the height of the 1980s crack epidemic. An honor roll student and a natural leader, he dreamed of becoming a doctor--but at age 11, his parents' marriage began to unravel and the beatings from his mother worsened, sending him on a downward spiral that saw him run away from home, turn to drug dealing to survive, and end up in prison for murder at the age of 19, fuming with anger and despair. Writing My Wrongs is the story of what came next. During his 19-year incarceration, seven of which were spent in solitary confinement, Senghor discovered literature, meditation, and self-examination, tools that he used to confront the demons of his past, forgive the people who hurt him, and begin atoning for the wrongs he had committed. Upon his release at age 38, Senghor became an activist and mentor to young men and women facing circumstances like his. His work in the community and the courage to share his story led him to fellowships at the MIT Media Lab and the Kellogg Foundation and invitations to speak at events like TED and the Aspen Ideas Festival. Writing My Wrongs is a redemption story told through a stunningly human portrait of what it's like to grow up in the gravitational pull of poverty, violence, fear, and hopelessness. It's an unforgettable tale of forgiveness and hope, one that reminds us that our worst deeds don't define who we are or what we can contribute to the world. And it's a lasting testament to the power of compassion, prayer, and unconditional love, for reaching those whom society has forgotten"--
Reviews with the most likes.
After reading Falconer by John Cheever, I wanted to read something by an actual prisoner. Shaka Senghor's story lacks the elaborate phraseology and literary nuances of Cheever's tale, but it's clearly and lucidly written and the story itself packs a powerful punch. Senghor describes his journey into the hellish pit of imprisonment, external and internal – and wrests his freedom from within, before he is released. It's an astonishing achievement of the human spirit. He is far more insightful and self-aware than Cheever's character Farragut, who walks through his imprisonment and escape as if in a dream.
No thanks for Senghor's rehabilitation are due to the prison system itself, which seems determined to grind human beings into the dust and bring out their worst possible sides – guards as well as prisoners. But something lives in the individual spirit that can counteract these forces. What we need is to design institutions and procedures that support this spirit rather than crushing it. Accounts like Senghor's are of inestimable value as we confront this challenge.
Most striking to me was the moment when Senghor started to write down his feelings and found that this gave him enough distance and perspective to stop reacting immediately in ways that ultimately hurt him (he had just viciously attacked a prison guard who harassed him and been put in solitary confinement for an extended period). He also became a voracious reader, especially of Black history, social justice, and spirituality, and this put him on the road to self-respect and to understanding the wider context of his painful experiences. Reading and writing are not just intellectual exercises, but spiritual disciplines which release us from the prison of disconnected experience and raise us to a higher level upon which we can move and act freely, because we have not just sensations or emotions, but knowledge and insight into the whole.
A relationship begun while Senghor was still in prison played a large part in the latter chapters of the story - sadly, it seems this relationship was not as ideal as he describes it (see description of the book by his partner, Ebony Roberts). Nobody is perfect, and even those who have made huge steps in self-development can still have unhealed wounds which continue to hurt them and others. However, I hope that both Senghor and Roberts can both continue to learn and grow and raise children to a better life, none of which can happen if we keep chaining people up with our prejudices and judgment and misunderstanding.
