by Lee “Taqwaa” Bonner, LSPC Organizer
My given name is Lee Bonner, and my spiritual name is Taqwaa, which everyone refers to me as. I was born and raised in East Oakland, California. After serving 30 years and 2 months straight, I’m keeping my promise to the incarcerated population that I would return to my community as an asset and not a liability.
In my quest to rebuild my community, I joined the staff at All of Us or None / Legal Services for Prisoners with Children as a Housing Advocate, where we fought for and won housing rights for formerly incarcerated people and their families. This victory allows people returning from incarceration to live with their families in subsidized housing (Section 8, Housing Authority) in Oakland under Fair Chance Housing policies.
I am the founder and leader of a youth organization called Taqwaa’s Youth Diversion (TYD). My mission is to provide productive pathways for young people who, through various life situations, have a higher likelihood of experiencing incarceration than others. My vision is to leverage both theoretical and practical life experiences to prevent juveniles from beginning or continuing hazardous activities that lead to the California Youth Authority system, the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation system, or worse. My goal is to establish relationships with young people, their families, their educators, and mentors to show how each touch point in a young person’s life can lead to productive outcomes.
I am also the owner and general manager of a janitorial, sanitizing, and handyman company called Intricate Details LLC, in which serves as a vocational apparatus to teach entrepreneurship and employ youth and formerly incarcerated men and women.
As a community servant, I am also an Alameda County Community Advisory Board Member, to promote innovation and best practices for jail and prison reentry services in the areas of housing, employment, education, physical and emotional wellness, and family reunification.
The Struggle
When I was paroled, I had a mandatory 3 month stay in a transitional facility. Within two weeks of being back in society I gained employment, which helped the 3 months go by fast. One day, returning home from work, I was told that my 3 months were up and I had to leave due to overcrowding. I packed up all my belongings and stuffed them in the trunk of my Toyota Camry, which my cousin Pastor Kevin Hope gave me. I attempted to move in with my younger sister and was warned that I was putting her housing in jeopardy because she has subsidized housing (Section 8) and if I was caught living there, she would lose her Section 8 voucher and get kicked out of the unit. One of the rules of Section 8 was that anyone who has been convicted of a felony is prohibited from living in those units. All three of my sisters and my daughter are all living in subsidized units, so I couldn’t live with them. Although my mother lives in a privately owned apartment complex, part of her leasing agreement states that anyone who has been convicted of a felony is prohibited from living on the property. Making the decision to remove myself from my family’s homes to protect them from evictions, I was forced into homelessness.
I applied directly for an apartment, on the application there was a question, “Have you been convicted of a felony.” I marked the box yes, not realizing I had screened myself out. I never heard from them. I applied for another apartment and got a phone interview. I explained repeatedly to the property manager that I have a felony on my record, and I was assured that the felony wasn’t a problem. I went to the property for an in-person interview, paid $25 to have my application processed, and six months later they called and informed me that anyone who has been convicted of a felony couldn’t live on the property. Fighting housing discrimination for three years, the Fair Chance Housing Ordinance passed in Oakland and Berkeley. Due to this win, I became the primary person on my housing lease.
The Culture Shock
I decided to visit my neighborhood where I was born and raised. “I’m finally going home”, was the thought that flowed through my mind. When I arrived there at 84th Plymouth, home wasn’t home. Before my incarceration, my father, Gregory Hope, would compete with the neighbors about whose lawn is the thickest and darkest green color. Folks took care of their property; Oakland was a beautiful place to raise a family. Now, all the lawns on the block are dead and yellow in color; the houses are run down and there’s only three black families left on the block. The majority of black families, like my mother and father, lost their homes during the housing crisis. I walked around the corner to my old turf (85th E-14), and received the culture shock of my life. I am not glorifying the past lifestyle I once lived, I just want to paint a vivid picture. My big homies had Cadillacs from 85th E-14 up to 85th Holy. “There’s nothing more beautiful than Cadillac City,” was the quote the Oakland Tribune printed in their daily newspaper above the photo of all my homies Cadillacs. Sadly, all those Cadillacs have been replaced with tents. Yes, a lot of my big homies are sleeping in tents on 85th and International.
Of course, I took on the guilt of damaging my community with the cocaine I sold. Sitting on a forklift at Tesla Motors depressed, I did what I was trained to do, I called a member of my relapse prevention team, Dauras Cyprian. I explained to him why I was feeling depressed and expressed to him that Tesla Motors is feeling like PIA and I need to get out to help my community. Two days later I received a strange phone call while driving the forklift. The call literally went like this, “Hey homeboy I heard your plea, I’m going to bail you out, and the current condition of your community has nothing to do with the drugs you sold 30 years ago, the cause is gentrification, disenfranchisement, and mass incarceration. Consider this as the first part of your interview, come in tomorrow for your in-person interview, and by the way my name is Dorsey Nunn.”
Dorsey Nunn gave me political education and then gave me a political platform on which I could help rebuild my community in East Oakland. Thus far I changed the Housing Laws in Oakland, and I pushed Proposition 17 and won, which allows men and women who are on parole the ability to vote. These two wins are huge, and I give all the credit to my team at All of Us or None / Legal Services for Prisoners with Children, without them it wouldn’t have been possible for me.
The Regret
Having the blessed opportunity to work directly with our moderate day Harriet Tubman (Pamela Price), I helped secure one of my old celly’s (Mike M. Allen) freedom who was given some 42 years ago a Life Without the Possibility of Parole Sentence. He had been re-sentenced to 42 years to life, and is now approaching his second board hearing.
My regret is, I wasn’t successful at helping to secure my nephew’s (Louis Sanders) freedom. This is an open apology: I dropped the ball and failed you. Having the phone passed around the family with you on it, and the phone never touching my hands is a punishment that CDCR can’t put on a person. I’m not asking for your forgiveness, I just want to state this fact, the mission continues. As we proudly proclaim at Legal Services for Prisoners with Children, it’s All of Us or None.
The Blessing
While out in East Oakland conducting community outreach, I ran into my oldest sister, who informed me that she just saw updated photos of my son who was taken away from me at his birth. He was told by his biological mother that she didn’t know much about me other than my name, and that I was killed in prison.
Watching my son interacting with my mother and the family is a healing to my soul, truly Allah heard and answered my prayers. Not only is my son connecting well with the family, I built a relationship with my son’s adopted family. I am so thankful and forever in debt to his adopted mother who did an excellent job of raising her son. May God give you a greater reward.
Now for the icing on the cake, My wife. Bless her heart for enduring the eight years of my freedom as she helped me to become stabilized in all areas of life.
Dorsey Nunn, thank you! For 6 years and counting you employed me and helped me feed my family. You believed in me and gave me a fair opportunity at life. You helped me to achieve my goals of having a youth organization and to start my own business. On top of all that, you gave me the highest honor by dedicating a whole page to me (p.310) in your new book, “What Kind of Bird Can’t Fly.”
The first time my mother saw my photo in public, it was on a “Wanted” poster from the Oakland Police Department. Now, thanks to you, Dorsey, she can open an All of Us or None Newspaper and read about her son’s work. She can turn on the local news and watch me speak to the community. And whenever she wants, she can go on YouTube and see videos of the impact I’m making, which is something neither of us could have imagined back then.
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