The following essay is part of PJP’s ongoing series, “Black Writers on What Lies Ahead.” As part of our Black History Month coverage, this special project sheds light on the future — the history in the making — of Black Americans incarcerated throughout the country.
I’m intrigued by 1920s U.S. history, especially Black American history. The style of clothes, the make of the cars, the Tommy guns, Prohibition. The dynamism, the spirit of rebellion. It seems like the Roaring ’20s was a show to watch, like you had to be there.
I love reading history and fiction, so some day I plan to use my imagination to create a 1920s drama-filled, action-packed … something. A novel? Play? Poem? I don’t know yet. I’ve just got this feeling about the future.
You can tell a story about all aspects of life. And that story should be recorded from different vantage points, so that history can decide which author was correct. But because of bias, history leaves a lot of people out, or it renders them two-dimensional. So I know I have to create my own history.
My Black history is being created today. In this cell, I’m practicing and exercising my craft — the craft of writing. And I’m making sure that my ideas and thoughts reach over the wall. Beyond journalism, I want to create fictional tales. I want those creations to be tied to the American dream. Rags to riches — that’s the story I’m gonna tell. My story.
I have big dreams for my legacy. Even though I’m sentenced to die by incarceration, I’m optimistic about my future. I woke up here today. But I refuse to picture myself being here tomorrow.
So, my Black history will read like this: Kory McClary came from the hood and ran the streets. The judge paused his life. But he figured it out, fought for his freedom, made it home and did it big!
