Shon grew up in the 6th Ward of New Orleans, a long and narrow section that stretches from the Mississippi River to the southern end of City Park. It’s 40 blocks deep and four blocks wide and kind of looks like a finger, the very tip dipping into the bend of the Mississippi River by the French Market.
He didn’t grow up as much as he survived, surrounded by poverty and drugs.
“Coming up in New Orleans, I didn’t know I was poor,” he said. “I didn’t know it was not normal to not have water or not have food in the house. Before I entered prison, I never in my life met a successful black person. I thought everyone dealt drugs and that’s what I would do, too.”
When he was 17 years old, he was incarcerated, a teenager who couldn’t read or write, and it
took being locked away to open up his world.
Men who looked like him began mentoring him, and for the first time in his life, he had good role models. While in prison, Shon learned to read and write, earned his GED, took up jewelry making as a hobby, trained service dogs, and became a certified sign language interpreter. He also worked as a volunteer in the prison library, delivering books to men on death row. In 2019, after spending 26 years in the Louisiana State Penitentiary at Angola, Shon was granted parole.
“When I got there, I couldn’t even write my mom a letter,” he said. “And that was really hard. When I learned how to read and write, it gave me opportunities to fantasize about who I wanted to be. It opened up my mind and showed me things I never knew.”
Parole Project advocated for Shon at his parole hearing and was there to pick him up at the prison’s front gate the day of his release. After completing the residential reentry phase of the program, he landed a job at the Louisiana Center for Children’s Rights (LCCR), at first answering phones and filing paperwork but he knew he had more to offer so he pitched himself for a different job, knowing that his background, skills and experience could help more young people like himself. He now oversees the community outreach program, assists the legal team, and counsels youth. He is also a certified reentry peer specialist and supports incarcerated individuals and those reentering the community after incarceration.
“My purpose in life is helping people find their God-given talents and opening their minds up to share their talents with others,” Shon said. “I see the struggle. I see the frustration. My job is to meet them where they are and help them find a place to help cater to their needs, whether it’s education or a summer job.”
LCCR Executive Director Kristen Rome said Shon is an asset to the program because of his past experience and the positive attitude he brings to the job.
“I’m impressed by his curiosity and desire to learn more. Shon is the manifestation of what we work to achieve at LCCR,” said Rome, who met Shon when he was incarcerated at Angola. “He taught us that reentry starts the day you enter jail. As a credible messenger himself, I understood that he was an expert in the way I could never be.”
Shon takes his second chance seriously and he knows that he has an opportunity to help young people who are a navigating life similar to the one he led when he was younger.
“I would tell my 17-year-old self to ask for help,” Shon said. “I didn’t know how to ask for help. I didn’t know to ask anyone to teach me how to read or write or anyone who could help me. My mom didn’t know how to read that well and I was too scared to ask anyone.”
He talks openly about going to therapy twice per week and how he started a nonprofit called, “Watch and Wallet” with friend and Parole Project client, Louis Gibson.
“We give them a watch and a wallet – the watch is a reminder to be on time and the wallet is a place for your personal information,” he said. “We also refer guys to therapy. I thought it was only for white people to go to therapy, so I never knew it was available or where to look for it. That’s what we do, we encourage guys after they come home to go to therapy.” Therapy taught him about self-compassion and forgiveness. He said his victim’s mom showed Shon compassion when she forgave him for his crime.
“When she forgave me, it gave me permission to forgive myself,” Shon said. “And I’ve learned how to be kind with myself and others because of that.”
When he’s not working, Shon is faithfully attending a pottery class on Thursdays, spending time with his girlfriend, and walking his dog, a Collie named Drake, who he helped train when he was at Angola. He loves Mardi Gras and is happy to be able to celebrate it every year in the city he calls home.
“He is hungry to experience life,” Rome said. “He is a lot less concerned with what he lost in his life and more concerned about what he gained. His spirit and energy is: ‘We are here. We are present. We are OK.’ He embodies resilience. It’s less about him taking punches and more about him pivoting to see what is important and matters. He can look at chaos, confusion, and pain and suss out with clarity what’s real and important. Shon is the reason I got into this work.”
