Man, am I gonna miss Madeira Street.
That block was hotter than fish grease in the summer and winter and I loved that. That made me. I speak up and out because of Madeira Street. Early on, that block showed me what it felt like to lose and bounce back.
I remember back in the day when this dude Kavon knocked me down in front of everybody. The whole hood laughed, even the girls I crushed on. He dug in my pockets and took my Lemonheads and Now and Laters, ate my snacks, kicked my ribs, called me a bitch and told me to go and get whoever I wanted because he’d do the same to them too. I ran home crying and told Bip. He loaded his gun with bullets and put extra ammo in his pockets, but I screamed, “No!”
Madeira Street taught me how to fight my own battles. That block showed me that the city made sidewalks because everybody didn’t belong in the street.
I stayed away and heard that Kavon and those girls laughed for a week or so, but I knew I had to do something. I missed being out there and I knew I had to fight to get my name back.
I put a Master lock in a long Nike sock and came back around. Kavon was out like always with his head buried deep in a dice game. He screamed his point and snatched a couple dollars off of the curb; our eyes met and he laughed again. Everyone laughed—those same girls, even some of my homeboys joined in too.
He turned back around to gamble and I cracked him in the back of his head. Everybody jumped back. Crack! Hit his ass again, one to knock his fat ass out and another to wake fat ass up. Crack! One more to let his fat ass know that even though I don’t look for trouble, I’ll never turn it down.
We all got a little bloody that day and he definitely whipped my ass a few more times in the future but I didn’t run anymore and he never went in my pockets again. Madeira Street challenged me to fight back and showed me the rewards of self-respect. I can hold my head up because of Madeira Street, which hurts because I can’t really chill around there anymore.
I know that everybody’s time on that block or any block eventually expires and my expiration date was right around the corner. Definitely too many murders around there and way too many incarcerations, all because dudes don’t know when to leave the block alone. You gotta know when to let it go, and all of these signs were telling me that our time was done. I can’t jug on blocks anymore. Selling drugs is about being mobile and switching up spots now.
I’ll always be thankful for the valuable lessons, the sleepless nights, the bags of money, the ass whippings, the family I never knew I had, the family I will never forget, and everything else I gained and lost from that block.
Madeira Street made me a man. I can get through anything because of my time there.