Journey to I Defiant, Defamed, Disgraced: My Unexpected Path to Success

Journey to I

Defiant, Defamed, Disgraced...

My Unexpected Path to Success

(a memoir)

Maisha I

Copyright 2014 by Maisha I

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.

Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within.

The author has tried to recreate events, locales and conversations to the best of her memory, much of it being triggered by diary entries and previous writings. In some instances she has changed the names of individuals and places to protect the innocent, and the guilty who have not been charged or convicted. Some identifying characteristics and details such as physical properties, occupations and places of residence may have been changed. Portions of dialogue may have been recreated based on memory and accounts of the past.

Smashwords Edition

Licensing Notes

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Books may be purchased by contacting the publisher and author at:

Golden Dragon Press, LLC

PO Box 201443

Denver, CO 80220

www.GoldenDragonPress.com

Cover and Interior Design: NZ Graphics

Publisher: Golden Dragon Press, LLC

Editors: Judith Briles (The Book Shepherd) and Mira Perrizo

Creative Consultant: Judith Briles

ISBN 978-0-9894603-1-6

1) Memoir 2) Teens 3) Drug Culture 4) Addiction and Recovery

E-Book by e-book-design.com.

Contents

Testimonials

Dedication

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Testimonials

"Journey to I is an incredible story of tragedy, hope and victory in spite of horrific circumstances. I highly recommend this book to anyone as an inspiration to the human spirit. Maisha I is a remarkable woman and proves the belief that it’s not what happens to us, but our reaction to what happened to us that will determine our future."

~ Gary Barnes aka The Traction Coach author of How a Beaver Saved My Life

"Journey to I is an incredible personal story of the strength of the human spirit. Maisha I recounts her experiences and feelings in a way that so many will relate to. This book will touch your heart. It will make both parents and kids think about how easily their actions can lead to outcomes they did not intend and help them realize they have the capacity to change their circumstances. This book is a compelling story. It is a quick read that you will not be able to put down. The fact that it is a true story is amazing. I loved it!"

~ Tracy F. Davidson, Psy.D.

"This is suggested reading for anyone having a rough past, personal tragedy and facing seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Through Ms. I’s words, you learn what can happen when bad choices are made, brutal consequences endured, and lives forever entwined in an unchangeable set of circumstances. You also learn that she finds the message in the mess that transforms her life and is now a strong advocate for youth in crisis. This book is a must read and worth being a part of your literary collection."

~ Joan Havis, CEO and founder of Havis Productions

"Journey to I is a compelling memoir. The reader experiences a variety of emotions as the story of Maisha I’s troubled life unfolds: sadness, anger, empathy, disbelief, joy, and triumph. The author writes in an authentic voice and doesn’t shy away from difficult subjects. She is proof that everyone can rise from the ashes and shine the light for others to move forward."

~ Melody Jones, founder of Social Media Management Services

"Imagine ... a bright young girl making wrong turn after wrong turn. Imagine ... a bright young girl becoming an accomplice in a murder. Imagine and then OMG is what will run through your mind as Maisha I transforms her life of quasi-parental neglect, drugs, drinking and crime into one that has true meaning for her family and community. Shocking. Profound, yes, disturbing and incredibly truthful. This is a memoir you won’t forget!"

~ Dr. Judith Briles, author of Snappy Sassy Salty: Wise Words for Authors and Writers

"This memoir is painfully, yet gracefully written. Its level of personal detail gives the reader a sense of the heartfelt pain and struggle of a family in potential, but plagued with day to day life. Maisha unpacks each memory and examines the context. This story is not solely about Deidra. It resonates with me. I am Deidra. I am Lois. I am Grandma Bea. This is my story."

~ Adrienne N. Bryant, Ph.D, author of Original African American Names

"Worth it! At times painful to digest, Journey to I is important and compelling at the same time. The voice of the author and the narrative of her tumultuous road is clearly cathartic and of value to us all."

~ Brady Rhodes, Co-director of BoldLeaders

"Deep on so many levels! This book will inspire you, trigger you, leave you questioning, ignite you, enthrall you, enlighten you and that is just the half of it. Maisha goes places that people don’t dare to go in their whole life and comes back with a potent message with every hill, turn or valley. I found a lot of my own trauma’s were uncovered, examined and processed through reading this memoir. It takes a strong soul to encounter what Maisha has in her life and a brave person to publish it, holding nothing back. I recommend this book to any person and it would be a great conversational piece for book clubs!"

~ Akil LuQman, Universal Intelligence Founding Mentor

"I literally read the last few chapters in the middle of the night under the covers by a flashlight app on my iphone so as not to wake my husband. I’d been telling my travel partners bits and pieces as I read so as soon as I was done, the book was promptly absconded with and has found its way to Northern Virginia. I highly recommend parents reading this book and having their daughters read it as soon as they believe they are mature enough to handle the difficult topics discussed—murder, rape and out of wedlock pregnancies."

~ Karen Loucks Rinedollar, author of Working for Peanuts, founder of Project Linus

"Excellent Memoir!!! I read the entire book in one day and couldn’t put it down. The author’s atypical path and unusual journey toward redemption is refreshing and honest. I definitely recommend this read!"

~ Anne Garrett-Mills, MD (Dr. Ado Asega) Metropolitan Denver Psychiatrist

"Follow a glimmering trail of hope through the difficult events of Maisha I’s early life in the remarkable memoir, Journey to I. Taught early on that she would have to make her own way in the world, Ms. I often found herself in terrible situations, with a choice to make: abandon her quest for love and peace, or find a way through the impossible? With amazing strength and great insight, Ms. I demonstrates that as long as a person lives, they can and should hold on to hope."

~ Rachel Moran, Educator, Writer and Editor

"Maisha writes with such candidness that you feel like you’re on the journey with her. To witness a young woman touching hell and rising back up to shine in her life is an attribute to the power of the human spirit. Gripping and powerful are understatements of Maisha’s ability to grab the reader and take them into the darkest corners of her world, all with the promise of the bright light yet to come. Praise to Maisha for her courage and bravery to be so authentic and open with her story. If you’ve ever had difficulties in life, you will not want to miss this read. I feel in kindredness with her as our life paths have been so similar. It’s nice to have a soul sister on the journey to women’s empowerment."

~ A’ra Blair, author of Sacred Sexuality, Reclaiming the Divine Feminine

"Maisha I discovered that she could come out of that place and make it even though all the Odds seemed to be against her. She took the proverbial lemon handed to her by life and made so much more than the standard lemonade: she made a lemon meringue pie so tasty that, if eaten by other women, will prove to be the most enriching, soul-sustaining morsel they could ever place into the chambers of their hearts and minds. I applaud Maisha I for putting her life out there, revealing an imperfect person in an imperfect world who made imperfect decisions in order to be perfected and matured so she could write this book and help someone else."

~ Beatrice Bruno, author of How To Get Over Yourself and Let Go of the P.A.S.T.

"An absolute must read! Maisha tells the tale of her youthful choices and outcomes with brutal honesty. In desperation for love and acceptance she created a life of pain for herself and others, until she began to find that ‘missing’ love within. I recommend this book to any reader—especially parents who desire to understand their child’s behavior and personal identity. This book could potentially turn a corner for a parent and save them and their child from devastating heartache and suffering. Thank you, Maisha for opening your life to us so that we may benefit from your own journey of awakening!"

~ Katie Haley, Spiritual Life Coach

"A must read! Compelling in its authenticity ... One woman’s incredible journey to hell and back. Journey to I is a personal diary of rejection, rebellion and redemption. All parents should read this and understand how much of an impact they have on a child’s life."

~ Merrie P. Wycoff, Ph.D., author of Shadow of the Sun and former producer on Entertainment Tonight

"Journey to I is no doubt a page turner. My first impression was empathy then sympathy for the soul that had forgotten her way. This is a great read for the individual (man/woman) who continues to seek love and validation outside themselves. Very rarely in the home and mostly never in the school system, will a person learn Love Thyself 101. Maisha created emotional, mental and physical trauma after trauma because she had no concept of self acceptance. Maisha's tumultuous adolescence was rooted from a NON TRUTH that she was not good enough. I feel this book will assist many rather than fewer with self empowerment, self esteem, love of self and perhaps a reminder that life is about choices."

~ Sigma Scott, B.S. Health Science, Energy Healer

Dragonfly...

No more dreams frozen in time

I found a new way to claim what’s mine

I’ve unraveled my wings

I’m ready to fly

I caught a grand vision etched in the sky

360 view like eyes of a dragonfly

I’ll take you with me on this wild ride

The highs get high and lows get low

Still Universe kept open my Freedom window

Eternally in tune with my way of life

Serving as a mother to many and beloved wife

I tapped my power that trumped the strife

I faced the pain now I’m creating the space

For others to come and take their place

I erased the negativity and replaced it with creativity

I’ll shine my light, you’ll find your way

There are endless possibilities

For your life to change today

Embrace yourself; your dreams are not a toy!

When they ask where your loyalty lies

Tell them my loyalty is to my joy.

Original Work by Niishia Hysaw

Dedication

This is dedicated to all of those that I have caused great pain and suffering, no words can ever express the depth of my sorrow. This is my sincere attempt to atone for my misdeeds.

Prologue

Hurry! Hurry up!! You’ve got to go faster!! I say, anxiously looking around scared out of my wits, they’re going to find us. It is already too late—I can hear the sirens.

Tony finishes dragging and dumping the body and we start running. I know I am running for my life. All of a sudden, I am alone in the woods running haphazardly—frantically— tree branches hitting and cutting my face—tearing at my clothes. I am desperate to escape. My pursuers are right on my heels. And they are ruthless. I am a ball of pure terror. I know if they catch me—they will kill me. I run into an abandoned building, it is all open space and there is absolutely nowhere for me to hide. The police have the place surrounded and they have no intention of taking me alive—they want me dead.

BANG!! I jolt awake with the explosive sound of a gunshot still echoing in my head. Disoriented, I lay on my bed with my eyes open, staring blindly into the eerie darkness of the night. It’s no longer a dream and I know that one day they are going to find me. I am so afraid. I don’t know what they are going to do to me.

I watched as a plain clothed cop approached my car, bent down, looked through the window, and asked for my ID and registration. This was when women were carrying really big purses. I had everything in there—I could have pulled out a stapler or a change of clothes. My purse was so full that I spent about a minute looking for my ID. I handed it to him, he looked at it, then at me and asked, Is this you? I nodded, reluctantly. He immediately asked me to step out of my car. I did so, now extremely apprehensive about the real reason for this stop.

Deidra VaJeanne Gaddy, you are under arrest for capital murder resulting in the death of Garland Bruce Gill, aka Tommy Gill, in the state of Arkansas.

"You are under arrest" ... words that exploded in my head and instantly became a huge pit in my stomach. My head was reeling, my world was shattering in front of my eyes ... and the eyes of my adorable little boy.

What about my son? Let me get my son, I sobbed frantically as the detective handcuffed me and read me my rights.

Asante, watching all of this, was crying and reaching for me. Mama ... Mama!

He can’t come with you, the detective said. An officer will wait here until social services can come get him.

I begged Barbara, whom I had only met yesterday, Please, please call my mom, as the detective pushed me toward the police car. I shouted out the phone number and pleaded with Barbara again to wait for my mom to come get my son, as I was being placed in the back of the police car.

Barbara didn’t know how to drive a car with a stick shift. My little red Honda was left sitting in the middle of the road stuffed with joyful Christmas and birthday gifts.

There was no longer any joy.

My life was a total mess! How did I wind up in this hellish nightmare?

Deidra VaJeanne Gaddy, age six

Deidra: Gaelic meaning Brokenhearted

Deidra: American meaning Raging

One

I’ve been thinking about the wonderfulness of jumping off a cliff like in Thelma and Louise. The ride down has got to be awesome; however the landing can only be great if you die on impact.

Before I was raped—the first time—there had been a chance for the answers I had discovered about myself to be radically different. Different in that the path I took was too dark to even imagine it could happen to a smart girl like me. Until the rape, I had all the makings of a youthful rebel and an amusing mischief-maker.

I had received an occasional tardy in school by extending my bathroom break beyond the usual five minutes.

I had been known to emphatically suggest to a teacher how I thought he or she could improve their ability to impart the curriculum to their students.

In the fourth grade I had even helped steal a wedding ring from a neighbor’s house on the dare of a friend, and I had stolen countless Barbie clothes even though I didn’t own a Barbie.

As incorrigible as I may have seemed to others, I now know that until the rape, there had been the possibility of me re-evaluating my actions with only a simple encouraging word or acknowledgement from an empathetic adult.

After the rape, my path toward self-destruction became as solid as cement, until I no longer recognized how to be any other way, or to see any of the child I used to be—so full of possibilities.

I was thirteen years old. I was just beginning the precarious journey into adolescence, just starting to gently nudge the edges of knowing who I was. I was looking for a definition of myself. With the rape, a definition began to clarify itself. The years that followed would only verify what I had been forced into believing were irrefutable truths about myself: I was of no value; I was unsafe; I was alone and vulnerable in a world that would always abuse and misuse me—and no one would ever be able to save me.

My mother once told me a saying that many African-American mothers have passed on to their young and naïve daughters, those young women who are so full of promise. You were born with two strikes against you—you’re Black and you’re female. I was ten when she said those words to me. I felt like she had hit me in the stomach with a two-by-four.

My mistakes, shames, and humiliations that occurred for many years after the rape certainly seemed to reinforce my mother’s words. However, what she failed to tell me was that there would be a third strike—her benign neglect.

I didn’t know that she wouldn’t be emotionally available to help me find my footing in those turbulent waters.

Long before the dawning of the man-cave, my mother had perfected the use of the woman-cave. She could have been a bear, except bears only hibernated part of the year. All year long, whenever Mom was home, off to her room she would go. She ate, watched TV, read, and accepted visitors in her bedroom—as if she was imposing her own isolation from the rest of world—which in my young mind included me. Now I realize that she was dealing with depression, probably as a result of her own unresolved traumas. As a child I interpreted her seclusion as saying I was unwanted. Unloved.

For many years I wondered if I had been sexually molested in my home as a young child and had not remembered, even to the point that I had voiced concerns to several family members about John Lincoln Johnson, the man my mother married.

The more I learned about how a person’s behavior manifests after they have been molested, I realized that I had lived my life as a classic example of self-destruction. I had many sexual partners—usually giving it up on the first date. I had sex when I didn’t want to more times than I can remember. Weed and alcohol were used as a form of escape. I often put myself in extremely dangerous situations. I believed something traumatic had to have happened to me. It would be a long time before I fully understood that my rape had indeed been a rape.

I was in my forties when a flash of memory came to me: I was around twelve years old. Four of us had gone down into the basement of the church—another couple, me, and Octavious, the boy I wanted to be my boyfriend. I had decided I would have sex with him—he would be my first. We entered a room that had several couches and chairs. We sat down on one of the couches and engaged in some heavy petting. I felt terribly uncomfortable and decided to leave.

That memory cleared my suspicions of any sexual violations occurring in my home. I realized in that moment that I could remember a time when I did choose not to have sex. There had been a time when I knew I was too young and not ready to make that major decision.

I know now that the rape was a rape—and it was one of the most defining and scarring events of my life.

That rape was the beginning of a downward spiral—a spiral that led to other rapes, an armed robbery, murder, and prison. I was on the express train to hell and it had to stop. Finally it did.

This book has been a labor of love—an intense emotional journey. I ventured to places within myself that were extremely painful. I have been consumed by sadness. I have been immobilized by fear and guilt. There were months when I rarely left my home; I stayed in my pajamas most of the time—even when I dared to go out. My home became the only place that I felt safe. Creating my own woman-cave, just like my mother had.

Out there was uncontrollable and unpredictable. It was a place where people constantly hurt one another and caused each other unbearable pain—myself included.

It has taken me a lot of prayer, therapy, and soul searching to make the decision to include the particulars of the horrific crimes I have been involved in. I want to give you total access to my failures and my successes. My desire is to bare my soul to you, I want to be totally open with you, so that you, the reader, can come on this journey with me.

To understand how I got here, it’s best to start at the beginning.

Two

I have so many missing answers to my life because I have been unable to formulate the correct question. I have been so busy looking toward the end, that I could not see the importance of the journey.

At twenty-one, Lois (Cookye) Havis discovered she was pregnant with me and it didn’t take her long to realize that she would be raising me alone. My mother-to-be faced enormous pressure from her own mother to, just get married—anyone would do. There was also the intense demand being applied by her eldest sister Corliss, who in her wisdom thought it best that Mom should let her adopt the baby—me.

But you can’t say anything about how I raise her, the baby will be mine, matter of fact, I don’t even want the child to know that you are actually it’s mother, my Aunt Corliss said. Mom never even entertained that offer. When Aunt Corliss could see that she was losing the argument, then her advice became, Perhaps you can go to an unwed mother’s home and give the baby up for adoption, and then we can tell people that you went away for a semester of school somewhere else. No one needs to know about this.

Grandma Bea and Aunt Corliss appeared to be more embarrassed about my impending illegitimate birth than my mom. She was scared, but certain about one thing—she wanted me.

She completed the first semester of her junior year at college and then dropped out. Frustrated and overwhelmed, she latched on to an invitation from her favorite sister, Lanette, who welcomed her with open arms. Mom made the hard decision to leave behind everything she knew, boarded a plane for the first time in her life—in the middle of winter—headed toward the frigid cold of The Last Frontier, Alaska.

Lanette had left for Alaska several years earlier with her two young daughters, Janet and Glenda. There she met another person from her small hometown and they quickly got married. Virgil Hewitt had been in Alaska long before it had been granted statehood in 1959. Both of them followed the hordes of people looking to homestead and make a new life for themselves in this unforgiving land.

Alaska is a state of extremes: blinding blizzards called whiteouts, frigid cold lasting for months at a time, with moose and deer in your yard commonplace although you may live in the city. Endless days in the summer and endless nights in the winter—with volcanic eruptions and earthquakes added into the mix.

Life with the Hewitts turned out to be a bitter pill; in fact, not long after Mom arrived at their home, she began to seriously question