Off The Record: Fordham Rd.

Many nights.. shit, days too, I would sit on the block with a bunch of the older guys, I guess you would call them the OG's. We would sit around, like any other day. Some would be drinking champagne, some would be drinking henny, and others would be drinking beer. Their choice of drink usually reflected how well they were doing at the time. But, sooner or later, no matter the drink it all had the same effect.

Once, they were drunk, they would often go back in time and tell these crazy stories about shit they did, witnessed, or things that just happened around the hood. I was a kid listening to these stories. They were like movies to me.. the stories were so detailed and rich, it felt like you were there.. You could see it. You could smell it, You could feel whatever fear or excitement they had at the time... Mixed with the surrounding elements of liquor, weed, music, and sirens going off in the background, it enhanced each story as they were being told.

We all have a story, whether good or bad.. there's a story to tell. Off The Record is that . It's an ongoing article where I've gone to my neighborhood and interviewed all of the retired street guys, that left the game alone..They were filled with stories. Stories that they never told or felt like they could ever tell.. These are true stories. These are the stories of the men and women from neighborhoods like mine, across the country. Enjoy.

..I don’t know if I’d say growing up in the Bronx was the best thing that ever happen to me, but I know I love being from here. I don’t think there’s another place that could have molded me into the woman I am today. I mean, of course there’s the good, the bad, and the ugly. Don’t get me wrong there was a bunch of shit I had no business doing, but fuck it I guess that’s character building.

(THE GOOD)

Summers in the Bronx were everything. It does something to me internally even as an adult to hear a car blasting salsa music, or the Mister Softee truck on an 85 degree day. I would get all cute just to sit outside in front of the building watching niggas play skelsies or roll dice, them damn dice games never ended well (my first realization that men are in fact dramatic/emotional af). When we didn’t feel like chillin on the block we would walk to Roberto pool, I’m talking about like 15 of us walking through what we called the Indian trail (mad scary I’m sure this where people did brujeria at) crossing the Deegan just to go to the pool. If you’re a girl you know if you go to Roberto you’re bound to get tossed in the water by a bunch of dusty boys’ lol. I’m from Fordham, but honestly it didn’t matter where you were from everybody came to Fordham Rd. My cousins and I had to be at least 15 years old throwing on pepe jeans with white airs, putting a pound of that cheap ass yellow gel in our hair, smelling like mad love spell (we thought we were so fucking cute), just to walk from Fordham and Jerome all the way to Webster and back. We used to see how many numbers we’d get and then just delete them; I think I had a red sprint phone at this time lol. I’m truly questioning my parents cause we would get so damn drunk and break night, I’m talking 7 am still outside chillin looking at people leave for work (I know they were judging us). It was madd depressing when summer over but the fall and winter were fun too. We were either in each other’s house, going to a house party or going to skate key. I don’t know why we thought The Key was so much fun, lol that shit was a war zone.

(THE BAD)

I was one of two girls that used to chill with all the guys from the block (the other girl was my cousin). According to the niggas that were getting money the cops wouldn’t really fuck with us cause we were girls. So here are two young girls getting “money” on the block. I’m not going to lie maybe its cause we were females and so young but whenever the DT’s decided to hop out all they told my cousin and I to do was take a walk. I started cutting school then ultimately just not going to school at all. I would get dressed in the morning put on my catholic school uniform, leave the house, wave goodbye to my mom, then go through the basement to the second floor to wait until my mom left for work. Shit my aunt lived right next door and she caught me like three times, I had to lie like Titi I got my period in school I had rush home. She told on me once and I swore I was going to get my ass whooped but my mom chalked it up to her drinking too much, and I’m like yeah Titi is always drunk (damn I should apologize to her). After a while I started going with whoever was coppin’ to pick it up from the connect, go to a fiends house to bag up, yo and I knew it was so wrong this old man who wore a veterans hat (but I don’t think he was a vet) would play old music like Marvin Gaye or some shit and would get high in front of us. Mentally I’d be trippin like nah this aint it wtf am I doing here? Once I got my money all those “this is wrong” thoughts went right out the window. One day I was outside I think it was like almost summer I heard a man’s voice yell my first and middle name out I didn’t even have to look I knew it was my dad, all I could think was fuckkkk shit just got real. He dragged me in the car literally dragged, my mom packed all my shit and I had to move in with him and his wife, RIGHT before summer do you know how sick I was? But shit god was on my side because that same day he caught me my cousin got arrested.

(THE UGLY)

In the midst of all the chillin on the block or “hustlin” of course I was bound to end up with a hood aint shit nigga. I was 16 and he was a 22 year old dust head, drug dealer. Shit I didn’t see anything wrong with it I was young, but he should’ve known better he was a “grown ass man” with a child. Yo I was so stupid for him! Anything he asked of me.. my young ass was there figuring out a way to provide it. I mean he was my first everything, that’s what I was supposed to do right? (sarcastically).. Only for him to get dusted and either act a fool outside. I’m talking about he used to do the dumbest, most outlandish shit ever. And if not that, he was beating my ass. It didn’t matter where we were or who was there he would go from 0 to 100.. I’m laughing now because I remember getting punched on the side of my face, right on University so hard my name plate earring fell off and into the sewer (lol, aww man). I was more tight I lost the earring than I was about getting punched in the face.

I was 16 and pregnant when my cousin called and said “Yo such and such is outside buggin".. so here goes my young, dumb ass, walking down the block with a bottle of milk to help bring down his high. My presence must’ve ticked him off even more cause the next thing I know, homeboy kicked me in my stomach. The whole block reacted!.. Now that I look back, I thank God that happened, I dodged a serious bullet.. But none of that shit made me leave him.

Months later, homeboy gets arrested for some drug shit. On his court date.. (lol) again, me and my cousin, go to the courts on 1.6.1. When the lawyer asked who’s here for so and so.. I raise my and on the other side of the courtroom another girl (woman) stands up. OMG you know that heart sinking, hands shaking feeling, I hateeee that shit. I had to say I was his sister to the lawyer (you know statutory rape laws or whatever). Long story short, this grown woman from Harlem pressed my young ass, on some she’s the wife shit, my cousin interjected like this aint the place or time. (Now that I think about it how did I not know he was with someone.. if a grown ass man feels comfortable enough to sleep on a twin bed aint a red flag, idk what is).. Anyways, my cousin and I got out of there. They set bail and now this dummy is in the bookings blowing up my phone because he kept all of the money in my house... So, I pick up and he’s like "homegirl is going to drive to you to pick up the money to post my bail; I’m like aight daddy".. YEAH RIGHT! We went straight to Fordham, went into Rush (if you’re a female, you know Rush).. I bought her a pair of antik jeans, myself, some trues, a pair of jays, a bottle of henny and the gold Alize (do not judge me, I loved alize lol). And I gave the rest of packs that were in my house to another nigga.. and that was that.

Story by: A Troubled Youth