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Third Place Winner (Tied) – Justice Project Essay Contest

Third Tied
Essay by Ernest Brooks

Lost his father to cancer at seventeen, the eldest of four
So many unknowns, with no time to implore
Now off to the war, to serve his country and provide for the family
No time for grief or an attempt to resolve this calamity
Now surrounded by death daily, with no means to manage
His soul finds comfort in heroin only doing more damage
So far away from the only home he’s ever known
Finding comfort in his new found friend, he no longer feels alone

At the mere age of seventeen, my friend lost his father to cancer and was immediately thrust into the role of surrogate father for his three younger siblings. Before long, he was enlisted into the army where he would serve and later become addicted to heroin in the process. He was always a strong willed, hardworking individual with the potential to be far more than even he believed. But what happened to him? Some would call it a bad case of “social injustice.” He was born into poverty to only have the family breadwinner pass away before he even truly understood manhood. He boldly plunged into the task of assisting his mother in raising his three younger siblings. He took on fiscal responsibilities that would drive the average teenager to simply run away or give up. Instead he ran to control substances which eventually led to his demise. Five long years went by with working, getting high and then pretending everything was okay over family dinner. Providing for the family that he loved while carrying the burden of his addiction as quietly and secretly as possible until it became too much. One day he went to work and never came back home, afraid of the pain and shame that his family would feel if they were to know the truth about him.

After spending eight months on the street, homeless and thousands of miles away from his family, he decided to call his baby sister, the one person who always seemed to love him unconditionally. She paid for him to get home, and he confided in her about all that had happened since their father’s death. This was the first step in a long journey to recovery, recognition and admission. Together they checked him into a drug rehabilitation facility where he could finally get the help he needed for so long. Over the course of the next decade, he would spend a total of five years in rehabilitation facilities like this, three years in halfway houses and two years on the streets following a handful of relapses and subsequent downward spirals. But his sister never stopped fighting for him, which made him believe that he was worth fighting for. Even when things got really bad he could never completely give up on himself. Deep down inside he knew that God had bigger things for him and that even though this was part of his journey, part of his story, only he decided how his story would end.

So after a decade of fighting addiction, he finally felt whole again. During his last stint in a halfway house, he was able to hold down a job for a full year for the first time in eight years. After being with the company for two and a half years, he was offered the opportunity to go to college at the company’s expense. Today he is married with two children and works as a successful director for a small consulting company and serves part-time in youth outreach in a neighboring city. Most recently his family suffered a great loss in the way of losing their eldest son in a car accident with a drunk driver. To my friend it brought back memories of his father’s untimely passing and the turn his life took shortly after. He immediately began grief counseling and took his wife and daughter with him to work through their anguish as a family. They are still in counseling, but their family is as close as ever. My friend is in a constant state of recovery, as he says, “some days are easier than others.”

So why do things like this happen? Why are some people born into poverty and others into wealth? Human nature drives us to believe that there is a purpose for everything but could what we consider to be social injustice simply be luck? In many cases, I have found that the greater the obstacle, whether internal or external, the greater potential for greatness. As an African American, I believe that addiction is a close cousin to the slavery Africans were subjected to earlier in America’s history. Other Africans actually sold these eventually slaves to slave traders, which could be considered self-imposed since as the slave trade grew these slave merchants would most likely become slaves themselves.

Addiction isn’t a conscience decision, but rather a sort of “prison” or “slavery” spawning from a sequence of conscience decisions. After seeing firsthand the troubles addiction cause for all those involved it is clear that it is the definition of social injustice, the worst kind of slavery, because it takes control of the human mind. As history attests, no person can free themselves from slavery without the help of someone who is already free. So as a whole, our society must see addiction for the social injustice that it is instead of seeing it as simply a product of it. Addiction can be found in all segments of society, and there a several instances through my circle of family and friends, all of which assist others on their roads to recovery. I’m a firm believer that the more Harriet Tubmans we have coming back down the Underground Railroad the better.

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