PART III: ADDICTED TO AMBITION

Once again, an unexpected opportunity breached my path and launched a new trajectory toward my inner sanctum. Never in my wildest dreams did I think the spiritual guides for the next length of my journey would be downtrodden Baltimore convicts; alas, I still had a lot to learn.

I walked through the metal double doors of Sharp Dressed Man on West Lexington Street and heard the soft sounds of Marvin Gaye pumping through the large stand-up speakers. Local Baltimore men from workforce development and rehabilitation programs were patiently waiting in line as a Security officer checked their creased referral papers. The demeanor on their faces indicated that they were not accustomed to being seen, let alone acknowledged. 

I had many preconceived ideas of the value I would bring to these men with my white, educated privilege in tow. To feel better about my own emotional bankruptcy, I planned to offer education services on how life “worked” on the outside. I was prepared with the false belief that there is nothing more effective in leadership than a white person of privilege deep in their own emotional deprivation telling other marginalized people how to “do life.” Again, I had a lot to learn.

The place was hopping, and it felt like there was no time to waste. I walked up to the first gentleman in line. He had a sweet demeanor and a slight limp. His face was wrinkled and exhausted with piercing brown eyes that peered into my soul. He looked unsure of what to ask for but was open to letting me help.

 “Hi, my name is Katie. What is your name?” I said with overzealous, bubbly excitement as if we were meeting for the first time on the Price is Right.

“James,” he replied sheepishly.

“It’s nice to meet you James. Do you mind telling me a little bit about what this suit will mean to you and where you will be wearing it? I will take your measurements as we get to know each other.”

At age 58, Jimmy leaned in as I wrapped the measuring tape with care around his neck. Thank God James had never worn a suit before. I had no idea what I was doing when taking his measurements. The evidence of my naivete as a tailor was embarrassingly archived in the photo above.

We slowly created a dance of kinship while James divulged his story. My humble client was recently released from prison after serving a 40-year sentence for a gang murder at the young age of 18. In an instant, I flashed back to who I was at the age of 18, trying to give James’ story some context. At the time, I was getting ready to head to Auburn University for undergrad—having so many choices to make and leaving my parents felt overwhelming and stressful. I struggled to wrap my head around the understanding that James’s community and support was made up of all traumatized individuals with little to no resources and that this life path appeared inevitable.

I came back to the present moment while fitting James with a beautiful tweed sports jacket that fit like a glove. He looked in the mirror and nodded with relaxed approval.  He continued to share his history with me as I intuitively located dress pants, a button up shirt, and a tie that brought his personality to the surface. James explained how he went up for parole 17 different times, attempting to be released early. He studied the law incessantly, and I saw a great enchantment grow inside him. Law was his muse. 

However, the opportunities available to a convicted felon are often in conflict with their ambition. James was forced to meet his reality where reality was willing to meet him, and he took a job at Johns Hopkins Hospital, waxing floors. He hopes to get the opportunity to support and lend an ear to patients going through a rough time. 

I thought, “This man is an angel,” as I attempted to keep tears down. I was overwhelmed by the amount of love I was feeling.  

James entered the fitting room and his nerves were palpable. I assure him that I will be waiting right outside to style his ensemble once he is dressed. As he stepped out from behind the red curtain he looked as though he was ready for GQ. I slipped a tie around his neck and grabbed a pair of used dress shoes to compliment the new digs. He was a little uncomfortable with me slipping his shoes on and tying up the laces. It was his first time having a woman do this for him.

“Are you ready to see yourself handsome?” I exclaimed.

We approached the mirror and tears welled up in James’s eyes. It was like he saw his soul for the first time. 

“Look at you!” I exclaimed. “It’s all of you!” He put his arms out and I came in for a big hug. Fellow clients and Sharp Dressed Men gathered to tell James how incredible he looked and you could see his heart fill with pride. James and I were immediately two souls completely recognizing each other. There was no space or barriers between us. In likeness, we were one.

My interpretation of what church was initially intended for was completely realized in my experience at Sharp Dressed Man —for people to gather from all different walks of life and see each other as God does. I felt like I was going to an organic baptism every time I stepped through those metal doors.

In due time, the men taught me that my ambition and lacking are all drawn from the same well of shame and trauma as theirs. But due to our individual circumstances, the result has manifested completely differently.

I can finally rest now that I have my answer. My life’s work is to do my own internal healing and to listen and learn as my heart guides me. To disrupt cycles of slavery both internally and externally and to continue to see the light in others. Now….how to figure out how to do my own healing. To be continued.

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Written by Katie Shannon

Edited by Patrick Shannon