I grew up in the rural South Carolina town of New Bern, which has one of the most violent black communities in the United States.
It was a place where black families could walk down the streets in their black-and-white-striped, no-frills clothing and buy anything they wanted.
They didn’t have to buy it from a white man.
They had their own little drug market, where they would sell crack cocaine, marijuana, and heroin.
And they would have them for breakfast.
That was how they lived.
But then the crack epidemic hit and the streets became more dangerous.
It made me want to get involved in drugs, so I started taking drugs, I think.
My family was all involved in the drug business, and it was a lot of money.
I didn’t care what people thought, or what they thought of me, I was just going to do what I needed to do to survive.
I was making a lot.
My mother, who was a nurse, got addicted to methadone, and she went through detox and then I got hooked on crack.
I became an addict.
The crack addicts I met were all very young, and they had all gone through the same thing, so they had the same experience with it.
I had been in rehab.
And the rehabs were a little bit different than the street dealers, where you just kind of let them go and then they’re out.
I wasn’t in rehab and I wasn