Dr. Nichole Pettway, age 47, spent a total of five years in county jails and eight years in California State Prisons. She is a Certified Addictions Treatment Counselor at a re-entry program in San Francisco and is completing her Bachelor’s Degree. She hopes to open a transitional house for women leaving the criminal justice system.
I was born and raised in Boston. Because of my very light skin, I had a lot of identity crises because I identified with my African-American culture, but it was difficult because neighborhoods and schools were segregated. I was told to act and talk in a certain way dictated by my light skin.
As a child, I had some traumatic experiences. My stepfather molested me when I was very young and it went on for years, but I never told anybody. I learned to cope with it through manipulation: ‘If I don’t get that Barbie doll, I’m gonna tell on you.’ I learned that if I pleased men, I could get what I wanted.
I was the youngest of six and didn’t get much attention, so I looked for love in all the wrong places. By 14, I was sleeping with men for money. I felt a sense of power and control even though I was out of control on the inside. I started freebasing cocaine when I was 16 and it helped me put on a façade. I learned to disassociate from my breasts and other parts of my body and that helped me in the trade. Drugs helped me in those moments when I felt like I was selling my soul.
I left Boston when I was 15 and ended up in California where my criminal activity really took off. I was in the sex trade, doing identity theft, and forging checks. The drugs switched from freebasing to crack cocaine. I was into prostitution before I got into drugs, so I was able to maintain my high because I was in the trade.
I got pregnant by a drug dealer, but he did not believe I was carrying his child so he shunned me. I continued to use drugs during my pregnancy and my first child was born addicted to cocaine and was mostly raised by my mother. Drugs don’t allow you to feel your feelings. When I gave birth to a daughter who was addicted to crack, that did not even hit me. There was so much guilt and shame that I continued to use in order to deal with it. Once you cross the line from use to abuse, there is no going back. The results are always the same: jails, institution, or death. It may not be your death, but it might be the death of someone you love. My mother passed away and I was so loaded at her funeral that I couldn’t cry. I looked good on the outside, but my disease had taken me so far down I was dying on the inside. After my mother died, I stayed high for 13 days straight. I gave birth to two more children and my third child was born while I was in prison. I felt horrible about myself, but desperation can sometimes be a gift.
Handcuffs were always a divine intervention for me. Incarceration protected me from my addiction and helped me do what I wasn’t able to do on the outside. On the inside, I had the freedom to choose because I didn’t have the monkey on my back. When I finally realized that I had a disease that affected my behavior and character, things started to change. My adult children are in my life today and I consider myself to be a physically and emotionally available parent, but they did not have that growing up. They developed their own trust issues, so it took time to reestablish those relationships. It hurts your family so much to see you in despair, but once they see you changing, they can open up to you like a
flower. It takes time for that flower to bloom, so be patient with yourself and the people in your circle. Addiction targets your spirit, but when you start to heal, your spirit is uplifted so that you can fly.
