Jail, Presidency, and Washington D.C.

Nope, this story has nothing to do with the 2020 U.S Presidential election.

This is about my life in Jail in the year 1992 when I was only 16 years old.

Even back then, when battling left and right over social media posts was just a concept, life was already a constant battle for me. I read a quote once that says, “to win a battle send forth soldiers but to win a war let the mothers meddle”.

Well, my mom brought me to the battlefield with her when she was jailed for 6 long years.

“Amy, let’s go shopping!” my mom was all glammed up as if we have money to splurge.

“But mom, we can't even buy milk for Lala,” my youngest sister was only two, then.

“Don’t worry about it, I sold our house!”

“…but mom we don’t own a house…" Ugh! I wished she'd stop joking around.

At this point, I knew something was up with my mother and it’s never good.

"You borrowed money from other people again…”

“Baby, in business, use other people’s money!”

Well, she abused other people’s money, so years later, she was arrested for embezzlement. With no father in the picture, my then 7-year-old sister and I had no one to depend on. I couldn’t blame relatives who were not able to help us, my mom conned them too, unfortunately.

With my mom in jail, my dream of becoming a nurse, so I can work in the US, vanished into thin air. Yet, she supported me until I finished college. How did my mom do that while in jail? I’m here to tell you.

Today, allow me to honor my mother by sharing with you the life lessons I learned from her as she made jailhouse rocks!

Back then a typical city jail was housed in a 3-story building with several jail cells per floor. Inmates huddled together inside a cell with several bank beds and shared baths. Most of the cells were occupied by male inmates and only one cell, on the first floor, was assigned for women inmates.

While in jail, with no fancy friends, parties to go to, and make-up on her face, my mother humbled herself and learned to serve — as a toilet cleaner, a laundress, and a cook, until she became a JAIL TRUSTEE.

In less than a year, she was promoted as JAIL MAYOR, leading all female prisoners, and I became known, as the MAYOR’s daughter. My mother taught me that to become a leader, one should be a servant first.

She supported my schooling by putting up a small sari-sari store, selling prisoners and jailers snacks — and soon her prison cell turned into a mini STARBUCKS. Every day, my mother would ask me to buy bread, coffee, sugar, and other grocery items that inmates may need.

She would then asked the inmates from the 2nd and 3rd floor to connect a long string in an empty bowl, that they could drop down to the first floor, exactly to my mom’s small outside barred window.

In the bowl, my mom would place the ordered sandwiches and coffee in exchange for money, so I could have allowance to commute to school. My mother taught me the importance of being resourceful.

When my sister and I became homeless, she found a way for us to live temporarily in jail. In the morning, we would visit her from school and loiter around the area until the jail warden left in the evening. The night female guards, who considered my mom, their nanay (mother) too, would usher us inside the gate and let us sleep in her jail cell.

At dawn, we had to wake up before the morning guards and the jail warden arrived so we could leave for school. The guards would even give us a small allowance and open the gate for us like we are princesses exiting our palace gate.

With my mom in jail, we saved money on nanny, board, and lodging. I also remember my mother, being a mayor for female prisoners, would have regular meetings with other mayors from different prison cells. They would talk about how to make their lives better while in jail. They would push for better food, humane treatments, and even had the power to transfer abusive jail guards out of their posts.

Being the only female mayor was an advantage as she became the spoke person for the whole inmates speaking to officers in charge of the prison system. Likewise, jail guards who were having disputes with other inmates would come to my mom for assistance or advice.

Watching her, I thought to myself, “Wow! My mom is really powerful here that officers with the highest ranks would even visit to consult with her.”

Living in jail, I watched my mom, with her charming personality, win the hearts of the whole jail community. She became the go-to-mom of the jail guards, visitors, and prisoners alike.

I got my mom’s charm you know, that’s why my husband is in jail.

One time, I got a love letter from one of the cutest prisoners. When my mom found out! She got so mad and asked one of the jail guards to stop the poor guy from hitting on me. In an instant! no male prisoners would come near me from then on and that jail guard!? Well, he became my husband. I charmed his heart.

A resourceful servant-leader who championed people, that was my mom in jail, but life before jail, I didn’t have a mom, she was too busy deceiving people for money.

With her charm, she would con her way into the hearts of our neighbors’ businesses and money until an angry mob would come to visit our house looking for her.

“Where’s your mom, Amy?” Asked Susan, an angry friend with whom my mom owed a lot of money.

“S..she’s not here.” I lied

“Her shoes are here…” Susan kicked my mom’s shoes which were outside our door.

“S..she left without her shoes on…I told her to put them but she…she just left…”. I was too scared that I made up stupid stories.

“Liars! Like mother, like daughter!” The profanities and insults from Susan would pour like it's raining dogs and cats.

That’s when my mom would appear from behind me and would curse back until I found myself in between words war that could have exploded into a real world war 3 if not stopped by other neighbors.

Most of the time, we found ourselves, sneaking in the middle of the night to run off our rented apartment because we could not pay anymore. From there, we would go from one place, one town, or one city to another and the cycle of the con would continue over and over again.

As a teen, I used to be ashamed of my mother and the way of life she forced us to live. I thought that it would be best for everybody that she’d be in jail. With her in it, I hated her even more.

The humiliation and insecurity were too much that I failed to make solid friendships with my peers in school. I felt like I was a walking secret, carrying the burden of the world on my shoulder. From school walking to jail to see my mom, I often talked to myself like a crazy person, asking, blaming, and even at times cursing God for having a mom like her.

For me, she was the worst mom ever! Yet, jail transformed her somehow. I realized later on that maybe my mom was tired of our life too. Maybe being in jail, she found true freedom from within her.

With no one in our lives but each other, we became each other strengths and confidants. I would help her in her prison business as she helped me continue my schooling no matter the odds.

I remember her handing me a bunch of heavy coins in a bag that she saved from her store for my weekly school allowance. We became closer as she cleaned my nails and brushed my hair preparing for a school event. We even talked about boys, love life, and life in general.

We were in a miserable place but I had the best Christmas celebrations in jail for we received plenty of gifts and food from all over. My mom made sure that I was protected every step of the way. Well, she was not able to protect me from choosing her favorite jail guard as my boyfriend.

Both of them made sure, no man could come near me. I was grateful for that, though, no matter how creepy their tandem to protect me appeared. :- ) The prisons' food tasted like paper but she would find a way to re-cook them, sell them to the other guards, so I could have money to buy decent food for me and my sister. Yes, the jail was harsh but I found my lost mom in it.

In the 6 years that she’s in jail, I was on and off college, but I was able to finish my academic requirements nonetheless. During my college graduation, as I marched to receive my diploma, I suddenly wished my mom was there.

Then, in the crowd, I saw my (then) boyfriend, the jail officer, crying, and in his arms was my mother, waiving proudly at me. She’s finally free.

My boyfriend fixed her paper secretly to surprise me. With six-year in jail, she already served her sentence and needed only an authority to vouch for her release.

My boyfriend made sure that he provided decent housing and a source of income for my mother for her to be allowed immersion back to society.

When I saw my mom on the stage, I ran immediately to hug her. Only then that I felt forgiveness flowed out from my heart to hers. I was somehow freed from my hatred that I wasn’t aware, was imprisoning me too.

I hope that this story will remind the readers that the best mothers can also come from the darkest places of our society. Among the failures, broken, and sinners, who like my mom, repented and turned their lives around.

Nope, I didn’t become a nurse to work in the U.S, I became a teacher instead, charming my way into the hearts of my students.

Of course, I don’t encourage my students to aspire to be in jail, but just like my mother, I also allowed jail to shape me into the leader that I am today.

In 2014, I became a school president in one of the colleges in my country, BUT unlike some of my country’s infamous Presidents, who went to jail after becoming the President, I went to jail first before I became a School President.

My mom is now in heaven. Before she passed away, I confessed that she was arrested because I told the police where she was hiding. I have had enough with all the lying and covering up for her. When neighbors showed up, I could handle them, but when policemen came, I caved in and showed their way inside our house where my mom was hiding.

In so many ways, I tried to apologize but she just smiled at me and said, “Amy, there’s nothing you can do that will make me love you less.”

Then I would feel safe and forgiven in her tight embrace.

Whenever I pray every night, I still raise my head towards the sky as if directly talking to my mom and say,

“Hey mama, I want you to know, I’m ashamed of you, No more. - Not anymore.”

Being a member of Toastmasters club in my country, I had the privilege of sharing my mom’s story in the form of an inspirational speech. I was encouraged by other members to join our yearly international speech competition and I got lucky to win the national title in 2015.

Toastmasters club sponsored me to compete in the regionals held in Washington D.C in 2016. I did not win the title though, but my mom, even in heaven, still charmed her way to God’s heart so He would allow me to fulfill my dream of visiting the US.

From jail to my presidency and my visit to Washington D.C, my mother was there every step of the way.

So, if you want to be a great leader or the best mother — try jail once in a while —,OR NOT!, but as for me, JAILHOUSE, ROCKS!