My Story Begins

By Eddie Russell / Fall 2024

My story begins on the coastal shores of Africa. My ancestor is looking out at the sea from the “slave castle,” off the coast of Ghana, St. George’s Castle to be exact. Led away in shackles and chains, placed in the hull of a ship headed to the new world. Arriving in Jamestown and sold to the highest bidder to begin his life as a slave. I do not know his name or what tribe he came from, but he is the start of my family tree here in America.

My name is Eddie Russell, and I am an American. I was born in San Diego, California in 1973. My mother had me at what could be considered at the time, a young age, sixteen years old. My mother had four children, my sister, me and my two younger brothers. Me and my sister have the same father, and my two younger brothers have the same father. Her mother, my grandmother, was born on a reservation in Oklahoma in 1911. She left the reservation at the age of thirteen, moved to Fresno, California and met my grandfather. I do not know when she arrived in San Diego or the circumstances that brought her here but that is my mother’s side of my family.

As for my father’s side of the family, I know that my great, great, great grandmother was born a slave I Tennessee. I do not remember her name, but she gained her freedom and moved to Texas with her husband. His name was Eddie Russell, and he worked in construction and his job transferred them to Texas. My great grandfather’s name was Eddie as well as my grandfather, my dad, me, my son, my brother, and my brother’s son. Me and my brother have the same father different mother. So, the name Eddie Russell is very important in my family tree.

I really did not hear many stories about my family on my mother’s side of the family. We went to my grandmother’s house every Sunday after church for Sunday dinner. All of us grandchildren called her Granny. I met my mother’s father, my grandfather twice. Once when I was very young, I do not know how old I was, and once when I was in my twenties. Shortly after, he passed away. He was from Fresno. I saw on YouTube that there was once an African American city called Allensworth in Bakerfield, California. The first baby born there was named Alwortha Hall born in 1910. My grandfather’s last name was Hall. A coincidence? Maybe, maybe not. I do not know but I plan to find out if he is related to her family. I am planning to visit Allensworth when I leave the reentry program where I currently reside.

I did hear lots of stories about my father’s side of the family. My grandmother, Little Momma is what I called her, gave birth to four boys and one girl, but she said she also lost a baby girl while giving birth. She also told me that her sister drowned in a lake in Texas. When I moved to Texas in 1999, my grandmother took me to that lake to go fishing. She said she liked to go there and remember her sister. One day my Little Momma took me on a ride through the country. We were deep off in the country back roads when she pulled up to this barbed wire fence. She said, “this is where I grew up.” Then she pointed to another fence across the pasture and said, “you see that tree over there? That is where me and your grandaddy met. His property is on the other side of that fence.” Her parent’s property was the pasture we were looking across. That is just something that I will always remember about my grandmother (Little Momma).

My mother had an eighth-grade education, she received her G.E.D when she went back to school when my sister was nineteen years old. They attended adult school together. My biological father received his high school diploma. I do not know the education level of my both of my grandmothers, I never asked, and they never talked about it. I know my grandfather on my father’s side could not read or write but he owned a concrete business with his brother. His brother was educated and ran the legal part of the business my grandfather handled the labor part of the business. My brother (Knuckles) went to college for free because he worked at the college doing HVAC. Before he passed away, he told me he received his master’s degree. His brother, my baby brother (Lee) who is currently in prison is taking college courses. My brother (Choo Choo) by my father graduated from high school. My stepfather, who raised me from the age of two graduated from high school and was in the military (Navy). He was very strict with me and my education. He would make me rewrite my homework if was not written neatly. And if I did not spell a word right he would make look up the definition and I would have to write the word and definition ten times.

Growing up in southeast San Diego was an adventure. There were gangs, drugs, pimping, a lot of violence. Before my stepfather became a preacher, he was the leader of a motorcycle gang. I saw a lot of things as a child that taught me how to be tough. Don’t cry, never back down from a fight, be a man. I can remember the first time I got beat up by these two older guys in the neighborhood and I ran home crying. My stepdad would not let me in the house, he told me to get off his porch and to go find the guys and fight them back. I didn’t have to win I just had to fight back. From that day on I have never backed down from a fight. Having that attitude got me into a lot of trouble. I started hanging out with gang members and eventually joined a gang. I started selling drugs, stealing cars, and pulling robberies. I went to jail for stealing cars in1992 and possession of marijuana in 1995. Twenty years went by, and I went to prison for attempted murder.

While in prison I started taking college course just to get extra time off my sentence. But I started learning things that helped me understand human behaviors and why people do some of the things they do. So, I started taking those courses seriously. Eventually, I received my associates degree and was accepted into the University of California Irvine (UCI). I was released from prison on May 13th, 2024, to the Male Community Reentry Program (MCRP). I was not able to attend UCI, so Colleen Murphy, who works with the Underground Scholars, Prison – to – University Pipeline program, helped me get enrolled here at the University of California San Diego (UCSD) as a late acceptance and so, here I am, a student at UCSD.