More than a decade ago, I had an identity that I'm now ashamed to admit, but once wore with pride: I was a gangster, or in other words, a thug. Don't imagine we were as glamorous as the gangsters in the movies. That's pure fiction. Reality was nothing like that. Looking back, I can't think of any real benefit to being a thug, aside from being able to spit openly on the street. But back then, I stubbornly believed it made me a hero, even though I was often broke.
