Hey, Dr. J., this is what you wanted to put in the newsletter. It’s my personal statement, and I’m gonna turn it in to my school,.so I want you guys to have a copy also. So here you go! Email me when you get it. My uncle’s funeral is today, so I will be with family all day.
As a kid you never realize the type of danger you’re in when your parents treat you so innocent, meaning no matter how nice and sweet your parents seemed, the world would be ten times mean. In order to be where we are today we had to go through some bad things. As children we are playful, but it’s unavoidable. My mom prepared me and my twin brother for the worst of the world, as if to protect us, because my mother was of the world and didn't know any better, but 17 years later, with the world on her heart, she must have learned how to be a mother.
My name is Artwan Green, I am 17 years old, and this is my personal statement. As a child I always had to share because there was two of us kids. Yeah, on April 14, 1992, my mother gave birth to two boys, Artwan and Arshawn Green. They were so much alike as babies, from helping each other climb out of the crib to crying together. Even the cry was in sync. As we grew, we totally grew separate ways. One started to learn the street life as the other dealt with finding himself and a place called home. My tenth grade year I went from home to homeless in two weeks. My mother’s boyfriend was very abusive, and he abused me, my little brothers, and my mom. It got to the point where I couldn't take it anymore. I began to fight back, and the next thing I remember, my mom was giving me a bag with all my clothes inside. I remember seeing the door close and her saying to me, "Stay out of my life.” I then went into a world that I wasn't a part of, but I was thankful she semi-prepared me for it.
For the past couple of years I've had a fight every two days with over 15 boys whose faces I can’t tell from their fists. Having a twin is a blessing, but it also a curse, one that I must carry as a burden on my shoulders for the rest of my life. I catch the train to school every morning. I wake up to catch the 115 metro bus up Manchester to the train station, all so I can be at school by 7 so I can at least have breakfast, have enough time to get to class on time and maintain a 3.8 grade point average. It’s hard not having help, hard for me to do the best I can at school and then have to catch the bus home late at night. Then punk people walk up on me trying to fight, jumping me and taking my clothes (reminder: clothes that took me weeks to earn enough money to buy). I feel like I have to get away. I really don't want to admit this, but there are times I have to steal. It’s gotten to the point to where I’m a professional.
My best friend, I look at him like he's my brother, my twin, the other half of me, because he’s always there when I fall and always there when I need him. He will fight, kill and die for me. There are also times where I feel like people are fake. They say they really want to help, but at the same time their hearts are not in it.
You guys must understand that the most hurting feeling is to be mistaken for someone I’m not – my twin brother Arshawn. I feel like I don't exist, because not only does my mom love him and his hood loves him and his girls love him, but I feel like God loves him and has cursed me to bear Arshawn’s footsteps while I walk in his shadow. I never ever catch his blessing. Instead he leaves all his bad consequences behind for me to run into, and that’s really scary. This place called Sacred Path up in the mountains in Malibu is the only place I feel I’m my own person. Those guys prove that I do matter, and I am loved by each of them. Whether it’s from a hug to a “good to see you again” or someone right beside me in the sweat lodge saying, “I’m here with you all the way,” or us on the ropes course blindfolded, hanging stories high, you guys got my back, and I thank you all. This year when Cameron pulled off and left me at the park, I felt like he threw me back into the shadow of my twin. I don't think I could ever forget that day.
Even though it still isn't clear why my mom kicked me out, I thank God ‘til this day, because I see the transition has strengthened my relationship with Him. I truly believe without this experience I wouldn't be who I am: the most fun, lovable, coolest, kind and respectful guy I know. But the one word I feel that best describes me is humble. I've learned to humble myself and it has shut me away from everyone else I’m connected to.
With college rapidly approaching and me just turning 18, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of not having a place to lay my head every night; I’m afraid of my grandmother, the woman I love the most, leaving me; I’m afraid of no one realizing that I actually matter, and me disappearing altogether. The world is tough, and like my favorite economics teacher told me, it is dirty and is waiting to crush me. Sometimes I think that I’m not meant to bear this sin called life. I feel it is a curse, and we are bound to burn in the fire of stupidity that other human beings spark. But I do believe in change, and change may not always be fair, but it will be better. We live in a world where people kill people for a street and a color. We live in a world that proves that we are animals and will do anything for a bone. We are not dogs. We are not savages and are not uncontrollable. But one day change will come. One day I will have a place that I can call home.
The experience of losing my mom and that wonderful relationship with my family has tormented me since the day I left, but I will never go back because now I’m the world’s advocate!!
To view pictures of Artwan and friends at the retreat, click HERE
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