I am surrounded by angry faces. You can feel the cold stares on your shoulders as you walk past. In a jungle of concrete and steel, these men are mad. Mad at the “system”; mad at their drug-addict mothers; mad at their abusive or absent fathers; mad at the world and most of all, mad at themselves.

Everyone has a different excuse for why they’re here: no job, no family, drug habits and bills that must be paid. Some say the criminal life is “in their blood” or “all they’ve ever known.” The only skills that most possess are street smarts and an above average knowledge of weights and measurements, a drug dealer’s forte. Their reason for not attempting to gain new skills is that they’re “too old to start over” or “stuck in the game.”

Many of these men express remorse for the paths they have chosen. They have children in “the world” whom they’ll never know. All of them agree in the hope that their own kids don’t make the same mistakes their fathers did, but how, “it’s too late for me.” Most of these men are in their twenties; some are first time offenders, others are “four time losers” or career criminals. They are serving ten, twenty, thirty year sentences. A growing number are serving forty or life.

It would be foolish to say they didn’t belong here. On the contrary, some will readily admit they do belong here. They express relief from their helter-skelter lives and are glad not to have to worry over their next meal or when they next drive-by shooting will occur. They take solace that this time has given them a chance to stop and reflect, a chance to put down the gun, take up a book and learn about the world. The few that do are soon astonished to learn that the world is not, in fact, one big ghetto.

Looking past the norms of stabbing, assaults and the prison drug trade, you can meet men who have made tremendous efforts to educate themselves. You see daily what one would think to be a contradiction; a convicted armed robber with a copy of “The Analects of Confucius” in hand; a drug dealer fully absorbed in Rosseau’s “Theory of the Social Contract,” a house burglar sipping coffee over a well-worn copy of Aristotle’s “Ethics.” It is not unusual to find the Koran and Bible read equally by the same man. These are men who have gained understanding through hardship and are truly disgusted with their own pasts, sick in their hearts that they’ve thrown their lives away by following the “neighborhood tradition” of drugs and violence. These are men who only wish for a wife, children, and maybe a dog; men who would never dream of committing another crime. They now dream of giving back to the communities that, as a foolish teenager they terrorized with gang violence and drugs. Now, their “gang family” has abandoned them and it’s plain how what their chosen “leaders” taught was all a pack of lies. The truth hurts and, here it seems, the greater the hurt.

It is a sad fact that, the ones who actually learn these lessons are the ones with larger than average sentences. Men who are serving “70%” of 15, 20, and 30 years. Their possible parole dates read like a “Star Trek” script—2009, 2016, 2024. For some, their only “parole date” will come in the form of a graveyard across the railroad tracks from the Varner Unit. It’s no wonder they harbor so much anger towards themselves. They’re the “walking dead.”

About a year from now, Arkansas will see a “Part 2” of a certain documentary on gangs in the Little Rock area. While I cannot comment on what sort of twist the producers will put on the film, what will be clear is that our city, our state, still has a problem with drugs and gang violence. There is still a certain group of kids who feel “alienated” from the world, and some of them will make decisions to join gangs or use drugs. Speaking as one who has been through this, I know we as a community can put a stop to this seemingly endless cycle.

I grew up in North Little Rock and like many of my generation belonged to a group of kids that some people labeled as a gang. This was admittedly not the smartest thing I’ve ever done and, like most stupid mistakes, taught me some valuable lessons. I was ignorant as to how the world worked, angry at “the system”, my struggling single mother and the “poor folks” neighborhood I grew up in. But, in the end, I knew it was wrong to rob people. My drug clouded mind constantly came up with the excuse that “I only rob drug dealers” and how since they themselves were criminals, society didn’t mind me taking their drugs from them. I refused to see my own faults and how I was the aggressor, that by pulling a gun on anyone, even a drug dealer, I became a danger to my community and myself. I paid a heavy price to learn these lessons and they will not easily be forgotten.

Recently I read a newspaper article which quoted Little Rock Mayor Jim Dailey as saying, “The city needs to work closer with community groups and take more preventive measures.” This is obviously true and I am glad to see that some Arkansas leaders realize this. Work in the community and home will accomplish ten times as much as building a new jail or prison. Prison breeds anger and hatred. Conditions here can “harden” men, most of who will sooner or later return to the streets. Prisons are miniature “cities” where gangs solidify their “organizations skills” and drug dealers learn new tricks to their “trade.” The few who do turn their lives around do so not because of any “program” the prison offers, but simply as a result of a strong will and desire for a better life. As in all walks of life, motivation and self determination are key ingredients to a hope for a bright future. If there is a “war” between society and criminal activity, then prison is the “West Point” of the latter. It is headquarters and central command to the army of ignorance. Here it is where a youngster who made a bad decision is turned into a “hardened criminal”.

There will always be people who are determined to lead a criminal life. But with a strong family and community, we can separate these from the kids who just made a bad decision, and we can give kids more opportunities and rewards for hard work, instilling a sense of self-worth which will in turn make the criminal lifestyle less inviting. It’s your community and they’re your children, all of them.

I do not profess to have all the answers, but, what I do know is, it starts in the home and community. Parents, church leaders and businessmen must step up and give children an alternative to gangs and drugs. Neighborhoods must realize that they are in fact responsible for the kid down the block. Irresponsible parents must be reported and struggling families need outside support to fill in whatever gaps may exist. Police officers need to make an effort to get to know youngsters, out of uniform. Participating in a pick-up basketball game will make an officer seem a “friend” where the standard pistol and nightstick mark them as “enemy aggressors” to be avoided at all costs.

Would it be worth his or her time to “fill in a gap” and teach just one young person certain morals and values that their parents neglected or overlooked? A good officer is more aware of the pit-falls of the streets, and he will readily recognize the characteristics of a troubled youth. Would it be worth their time if, in five years, instead of busting this kid for running dope, they were screaming praise at him for running touchdowns for the home team? Sports, field-trips, after school jobs, workshops, and mostly, just a safe, drug-free place to “hang out” are the things that keep kids and adults connected. These things will combat modern society’s myriad temptations to choose the wrong path.

Motivate a child to want a bright future and show them how big the world really is. Teach them to dream and then help them to achieve those dreams. Please don’t alienate another generation of Arkansas youth and allow them to grow up hungry, hopeless, helpless, and homeless or hug-less. It’s up to you Arkansas, because, by the time they make it here, it’s probably too late.

For a list of things the “average person” can do to help, please feel free to contact me.

Benjamin Hopkins #600031
P.O. Box 400
Grady, Arkansas 71644