When I received a package from my mother and it had contained many letters from 23 years ago writing to my mother while I was incarcerated, the letters proved the greatest driven in my mission to break the impossible. The fact my state of being Deaf returnee had made me the strongest asset to my survival and defy the odds.
While I was reading those letters last night, flashbacks were meant to teach me how to learn how to walk through the harshest punishments, defining my life who I am, and learned how to manage to crack the code of bullying. Finally, if there is not the triumph of hope, what will it be like?
I should explain that sometimes I find myself seeing life without its reasons. It is kind of experience, one where the compassion melt away, and it is most often when we are in denials. Ever since I was incarcerated, there was a part of me that has been searching for the story-telling purpose behind it all with the goal to become repentant and rehabilitated. I became the first family member to graduate from university.
I helped passed the hate crime law to protect Deaf community in state of Oregon. It was one of my greatest gift ever.
I worked very hard to defy the odds when people said I would have no chance at all instead of sending me threatening e-mails, in person, and you name it all.
Whenever I was writing letters, I look beyond the walls of hope. I did not give up. It was not something you would see everyday. Because of the letters I wrote, I’ve overcome each obstacle–including the critical goals I set and show what I can do when I come together from walk of life, challenging the differences, and that makes me far stronger than what I was instructed by the very society to divide my life. Not in this life this time.
I do not believe in the pursuit of individuality where I suffer life long imprisonment for the rest of my life. I share my own experiences, some of the most painful experiences I’d ever endured. To make matters worse I had dealt with naysayers who turn my suffering into financial gain. I refuse to let people define who I am. No one.
After all, the handwritten letters to write is not the one that thinks for me, but the life which makes me think. In some of the letters to my mother that I will share few details that proved a serious change in my life:
Dated: February 25, 1996:
“Like I said, I’ll probably will have long hair by that time!”
Dated: Friday, March 29, 1996:
“There are so many things I would like to do on the day when I get out.”
Dated: May 18, 1996:
“I just wrote 10 goals when I release, these 10 goals are important to do.”
I could go on more, but let’s stop right there.
I miss my hair.
Copyright © 2019 Jason Tozier
This text may be freely copied in its entirely only, including this copyright message.
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