Chasing Joseph

By Jamall Joseph D. Robinson

When making the decision whether to tell my story in print, I
have to admit, I struggled. I knew that it meant I would have
to share all of the events of my life until now.

And I knew that it meant I would have to reveal all of it - some of
which I’m not proud to be associated with no matter how I
feel wronged or victimized due to a rush to judgment by the
media. It’s ironic that I would even want to reveal anything
since I have been so fiercely protective of my image in light
of recent events.

To this day, I have been hung public-squarestyle,
by the press, by strangers, by myself even, but mostly
by simple folks who believe all that they read in the papers.
Even the courts are more just, in my opinion, than the mobs
that rushed to judgement.

I understand the totality of pain that was caused by my former associates. I
also understand my responsibility in being even peripherally
involved with these monsters this is the tail of a reborn man.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483555270

Book preview

homelessness.

PROLOGUE

When making the decision whether to tell my story in print, I have to admit, I struggled. I knew that it meant I would have to share all of the events of my life until now. And I knew that it meant I would have to reveal all of it - some of which I’m not proud to be associated with no matter how I feel wronged or victimized due to a rush to judgment by the media. It’s ironic that I would even want to reveal anything since I have been so fiercely protective of my image in light of recent events. To this day, I have been hung public-square-style, by the press, by strangers, by myself even, but mostly by simple folks who believe all that they read in the papers. Even the courts are more just, in my opinion, than the mobs that rushed to judgement. And as angry as it makes me sometimes, I’m a smart man. I get it. I understand the totality of pain that was caused by my former associates. I also understand my responsibility in being even peripherally involved with these monsters.

So let’s start with the truth. Because can’t nobody argue with the facts as God sees them, as my grandmother might say…

The truth is: I am the same Jamall Robinson of Your Black Muslim Bakery notoriety. I was wrongly accused in 2005 of vandalism and robbery crimes because of my association with the devil, Yusuf Bey IV. Yes. The truth… It is the same Yusuf Bey IV who eventually murdered an innocent man. He was that CEO. The same one who ran Your Black Muslim Bakery, one of the most notorious establishments in Oakland and an establishment known for it’s close and lengthy association with the Black Nation of Islam. One mention of Your Black Muslim Bakery around the Bay area will elicit a visible shudder-type reaction, sheer disgust. But my story is far from the one reported. I will tell you the truth. Although perception and truth are often one in the same right? What you read on the next several hundred pages may not even closely resemble what a simple Google search may reveal about Jamall Robinson or what the Oakland Tribune would have you believe.

But it’s the truth - at least it’s my perception of the truth. It’s my story to tell right? It’s my story to tell. Putting pen to paper frightened me. But as you will soon learn, terror has been sort of a familiar thru-line in my life. I think it’s where I’m most comfortable if I’m being honest. So as I have done throughout my entire life, I am writing this book in an attempt to redefine my own destiny. Mostly it’s for myself. Certainly, I hope someone reads it. Frankly I hope those who do read it come away with a better understanding of the whole man I am, and not the press-conjured-up dirge on society. But in the end I think Jamall Robinson will always be judged in some way and if that’s my lot, hopefully as I know better, I will do better. That’s what the great Maya Angelou once said and I believe her. Finally, I will leave you with this thought. When I was deciding where to begin the recanting of my life so far, I was reminded of the famous Shakespeare quote from Romeo and Juliet, What’s in a name? And I thought, That’s it! There is no better way to start. This is the perfect jumping-off point for my story.

My name is Jamall Robinson. My name is also Joseph Hovey Calhoun. For me there is no difference. But for the public, the perception is tantamount to the difference between hearing the names Charles Manson and John F. Kennedy - that’s at least the Grand Canyon-sized gap in the two worlds of Jamall and Joseph that I feel. I think I will forever be chasing Joseph. That’s okay. I have a lot a stride in my step and a lot of living to do. I’ll keep chasing but I know the reality is Jamall and Joseph are the same person on the inside. Joseph embodies the same guts, the same glory and failures, and the same heart and pain as Jamall. Again I ask, as Romeo so brilliantly exclaimed, What’s in a name?

My answer is: Everything. Everything, my friend, is in a name. And by the way, that Will Shakespeare guy, he knew his stuff. Because as we know, the famous quote from Romeo and Juliet is followed by this beautiful verse, That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

While I agree with the sentiment --- it’s true, you are still the same person on the inside whether your name is Montague, Capulet or Robinson --- in the end, the Shakespearean tragedy proves only one thing. Your name follows you. It defines you in some ways. You can’t marry a Capulet if you are a Montague - hell no! Your name is your first public impression. Judgments are made even before you extend a hand to shake and utter the first hello just after the introduction of my name is… When we’re young, we assume erroneously, at least I did, that this sort of sentiment, like I made mistakes, I’ll learn and move on can be actualized - we can move forward even from giant mistakes. And we make other youthful faulty assumptions like, I won’t be judged by my neighborhood or by my lineage or my past foibles. But soon you learn, if you live long enough, that it’s not so. The world does pay attention to your name which fortunately or unfortunately carries all of that. It essentially carries with it your status, your place in the world, your baggage, your worth, and in my case, your crimes.

My name was everything and it proved over and over again that no matter how fast I ran or attempted to outrun my own name, I couldn’t escape it. The negative associations always followed me to the finish line, albeit finishing a close second, but still there, always there like a haunting. How do you run from yourself? Has anyone figured that out yet? Eventually I decided instead of running from it, I would run toward something better, a new identity - but that’s for later. Chasing Joseph is my attempt to integrate Joseph with Jamall. I want to prove that I am all of my past, the good and bad. I am the Jamall Robinson my grandmother raised, not the Jamall that society has decided is a throwaway before I even have the chance to make good.

It’s true - I could not run fast enough. I know that now. Jamall is my name. I own it. I also know this. I am not my past. I am not only my thorns. I am Jamall Robinson, Joseph Hovey Calhoun, a child of God, a brother, a father, a son, a friend, a business man, and most importantly, I am my grandmother’s grandson.

I know if she were here today, she would remind me, God put you here for a purpose, son. And I’m still here, Grandma… This book is for you. This is my story.

CHAPTER 1 - ELSE’S GRANDSON

I am Else’s Jan Calhoun’s grandson. I was born Jamall Joseph Delmore Robinson and was raised by my mother and my grandmother. I grew up on Ocean Avenue in Emeryville, California with my older sister Rachel. Life was OK. We made it nice. I didn’t have it particularly tough. I did not come from the wrong side of the tracks. We lived in a nice suburb of Northern California. Did we have all of the luxuries I may have wished for? No. But I was surrounded by family who I loved. For the most part I felt the love back - at least that is what I tried to convince myself. I mean I knew my family loved me even if it wasn’t always demonstrated. You see for the longest time, I can remember feeling this way even way back, I never felt included. There was always a wall, a barrier to inclusion. Was there something different about me?

Was it just because I was the only male? I never understood what the issue was. But if you think your children don’t feel the unspoken truth, think again. It’s energy. It never had to be spoken that I was different or left out in some way. It just was. I was the black sheep but as I learned to do early on, as I would do with everything else I turned a negative on its head. I made being the only boy, being different, being smart, being my grandmother’s son - I made that my badge of honor, not my disadvantage. I acted like that made me special. And in some families that might have been the case. It wasn’t in my mind, but I wasn’t going to let someone else write the story of my life. I was the master of my destiny. So instead of being ostracized, I made my difference my winning strategy. I think I may have been running from the truth but hey it was my coping mechanism. At nine or ten years old, you don’t map out your coping strategy in the way an adult might. You cope. That’s it. You cope and hopefully it’s with a positive coping strategy that serves you in some way and not a self destructive one. And for me, it worked to assume I was just special and better at things and that’s what made me different. It worked, at least in my youth. I was also born a dreamer and that always propelled me forward. I would observe winners and doers and think to myself, I can do that. I always imagined what life could be like. And I didn’t see the obstacles. That quality also served me well until I realized you also need to look around the corner before you leap. But that is another story for later. And at the end of the day, every day I was grateful for my life. I knew we had it easy compared to some people in black America. We were in an area where diversity was and still is embraced. That fact was not lost on me. I grew up in a neighborhood where all nations had a voice and I liked that. For an African American boy, this wasn’t a bad place to come up. Sure there were hard times, but I didn’t come from nothing. I came from an educated, middle class family in suburbia. Moreover, I was a go-getter from the time I could walk from one side of the room to the other. I was smart. I knew it. Bottom-line I never felt less-than even if I was an outcast in some ways. I was here in Emeryville for a purpose. I think Else helped me feel that way. I always knew I had a larger purpose. From the very beginning I have always looked at life as an adventurous opportunity. A privilege given to some. My being here, my purpose filled destiny meant I had a chance, a real chance and I was going to grab it.

While I always loved my mother, she was my mom of course, it was my grandma who raised me from the age of seven. My sister lived with mom --- although she and I stayed close --- and I was sent to live with Grandma. My father was in the picture financially, but not a real presence in my life. No doubt that shaped my life experience but that is for an episode of Dr. Phil, another time. I’m still probably figuring that part out anyway. The point is, the most important person and influence in my life was my grandmother. She was at that time, and still in death remains, the single most powerful force in my every decision.

Else Jan Calhoun, or grandma as I called her, was IT - she was just IT, all of IT. She was mother, father, everything! The sun rose and set with my grandma. She was bigger than life, my go-to for all things. Else believed in me and better yet I believed that she did. And for a kid with no real adult guidance, that belief meant more than anything. She said I was somebody. She said that I could be anybody I wanted and what’s more, I knew she meant it. So I was determined to go out there and make something of myself. From my earliest memories, as soon I could count to ten on my fingers, all I ever dreamed of doing was just making my place in the world, being somebody important. I so wanted to make something of myself. I wanted to show her so badly that she was right. That no matter how much hard work it took, I would do it. I