Knowledge B, Guest Writer
Two years ago, I was scrolling through a writing group, reading other authors' communications about their works. Some were seeking suggestions, information, and support.
I mentioned in my last blog/story, For an Audience of One, that writing can be a solitary place for some, but if you have the courage to speak out, it can be helpful. And that day, a writer did just that. He asked one very simple question, “Where can an African American couple with two kids live in a suburb in Virginia and commute to DC for work? And I responded with, “I have a friend who lives in Vienna, Va, a 31-minute drive into DC. I like the name. It’s very Shakespearish. Sorry, not sure if that’s even a word.”
Thus began communication between Knowledge B, his pen name, and myself. Early on, he revealed that he was an incarcerated writer. When I went to his page, rather than research what had brought him to be incarcerated, I read all the things he had accomplished. He is a published author, journalist, recipient of several certifications and degrees, and CEO of his company, Hood Square. He was presently working on his third book, like myself, and I realized despite our many differences, we share one important thing, and that’s writing.
Since then, we decided to collaborate by hosting each other’s stories on our blogs. We went back and forth on what we could write for the other writer’s audience, and I suggested someone older in his life who has made a difference.
The following two stories were submitted for Aging Creative’s story/blog by Knowledge B: I will include links to his blog, contact info, and his books at the bottom.
Please leave a comment in the message form below. I will post on the page.
The Man of Honor by Knowledge B
Growing up, it was always an honor to watch my father embody what it meant to be a man, a husband, and a father of integrity. We were far from well-off financially, but my parents always managed to make do with the little they had. Looking back, I realize how much of my foundation as a man was shaped by my father. He played an instrumental role in my growth, and not just mine—both my older and younger brothers also continue to salute him as our role model to this very day.
That admiration remains even as I bittersweetly watch my father age. It is a blessing to still have him in my life, but it pains me to see time catching up with him. My dad has always been a vibrant, optimistic person, someone who could find the right words to uplift and empower even in the toughest situations. I still carry with me the advice he gave me as a youth—like making myself a priority because, as he put it, “You can’t help nobody else if you can’t help yourself.” That wisdom has shaped my approach to self-care, teaching me the importance of addressing personal struggles before they spiral into burnout or breakdowns.
His guidance has been invaluable, especially as I navigate a long prison sentence. Even from behind these walls, I know I can count on my father. No matter what he may be going through personally when I call, he makes sure I leave that fifteen-minute conversation feeling better than when I dialed. Now, as I push forty, he remains my primary mentor.
Beyond teaching me how to navigate life’s hardships, my father also showed me how to love. He and my mother have been married for almost forty years, and I grew up witnessing their devotion firsthand. Even in moments of disagreement, he treated her with patience and understanding. Their bond has given me a clear vision of what true love looks like—one tested by time but strengthened by commitment.
Still, it’s difficult to watch from afar, knowing that my parents continue to struggle financially. As they enter their golden years, they face even greater challenges, and one of my deepest regrets is not being there physically to help them. That pain fuels my purpose. It drives me to put myself in the best possible position so that, even from a prison cell, I can work toward easing their burdens.
Even now, my father continues to teach through his actions. At nearly seventy-nine, he is recovering from a serious leg injury after a rollover accident—an event entirely out of his control. Healing at his age has not been easy, yet he remains patient, refusing to let frustration or despair rush the process. This is who he has always been: a man of resilience, dignity, and grace, even in the face of adversity.
I do not paint my father as a perfect man. Like all of us, he has his flaws. But never once has he allowed those flaws to define him. He is, and will always be, a man of honor in my eyes.
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Wonderful Woman by Knowledge B
I grew up knowing that I had a twin. But not a twin in the typical sense—no brother or sister who shared a womb with me. My twin was my beautiful mother. From the time I was a child, I heard it over and over: “Boy, you look just like your mother.” At first, I didn’t take it as a compliment. As a young boy, I wanted to look like my dad. But as I got older, I started wearing the comparison like a badge of honor. Because looking like my mother meant I resembled one of the strongest, most resilient, and most loving people I would ever know.
Still, I never considered myself a “mama’s boy.” Even though I loved my mom fiercely, I wasn’t the type to cling to her apron strings. But loyalty? That was different. Those who know me understand that I am unwaveringly loyal to my mother. If you hurt her, you might as well have hurt me—because I’d take that personally. Some might say that makes me a mama’s boy. If that’s the case, then so be it. I’ll wear that label proudly.
My mother holds a special place in my heart, so much so that I have a tribute tattoo of her name inked on my left pectoral, inside a red heart. That tattoo is more than just ink on skin—it represents the foundation of my values, my respect for women, and my understanding of what love, resilience, and strength truly mean.
It is because of my mother that I value and respect women the way I do. She showed me, by example, that women are to be treated with dignity. This is why I have always been a vocal advocate against domestic violence and any form of abuse against women. I’ve seen firsthand the emotional and physical toll that abuse takes, and I refuse to contribute to that cycle.
I won’t sit here and act like I’ve been the perfect man in every relationship I’ve been in. I’ve made mistakes, had my flaws, and learned my lessons. But one thing I can say with pride: I have never, and will never, put my hands on a woman in anger. And that includes verbal abuse as well, because words have power. Words, when used maliciously, can cut deeper than any physical wound, leaving scars that may never fully heal.
That’s why it sickens me when I hear men bragging about how they’ve “put their woman in check” through intimidation or violence. To me, a woman is not something to control—she is a partner, an equal, someone to uplift and protect. My mother taught me that. My respect for women is deeply rooted in my love and admiration for her.
Now, let’s be real—my mother isn’t perfect. Anyone who knows her knows that she can be difficult at times. She’s got a stubborn streak a mile long, and I’ve had plenty of moments shaking my head at her sheer determination to do things her way. But that stubbornness? It’s part of what makes her so strong.
My dad, her husband of almost forty years, has had to navigate those stormy waters too. If you ask him, he’ll tell you plenty of stories about dealing with “Hurricane Twilla.” But at the end of the day, the love she gives, the loyalty she shows, and the sacrifices she makes make it all worth it. Despite the challenges, he wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world. Neither would I.
Because even with her flaws, one thing remains true—my mother has always been there. For me. For my siblings. For anyone who has ever needed her.
One of the things that stands out the most about my mother is her unwavering willingness to help others. No matter how difficult things got for her personally, if you called on her, she’d be there. It didn’t matter if she was exhausted, stressed, or dealing with her own problems—she would drop everything to support someone in need.
That kind of selflessness is rare. And it’s something I’ve come to appreciate more and more as I’ve gotten older. It’s one thing to say you love someone; it’s another thing entirely to show it through action, time and time again. That’s the kind of woman my mother is.
Even now, as she and my father grow older, she continues to put others before herself. It’s something that both inspires me and worries me, because I know she deserves rest. She deserves to be taken care of, just as she has spent her entire life taking care of others.
That’s why, even though I am currently incarcerated, I am doing everything in my power to ensure that I can be there for her and my father when they need me most. It is one of my greatest motivators.
This essay isn’t just words on a page—it’s a tribute. It’s my way of letting the world know just how much my mother means to me. Too often, we wait until it’s too late to give people their flowers. But I want to make sure my mother knows, while she is still here, just how much she is loved, appreciated, and respected.
She is my twin, my first teacher, and one of my greatest sources of strength.
She is the reason I know how to love.
She is the reason I fight for the rights and dignity of women.
She is the reason I strive to be a better man.
So, to the world, I say: My mother is a wonderful woman. And to my mother, I say: I love you.
About the Author:
Knowledge B, also known as Abdul-Hakim Works and CEO Hood Square, is a justice-impacted journalist/blogger, published author, entrepreneur, mentor, and aspiring motivational speaker. He is currently incarcerated in the Arizona Department of Corrections Rehabilitation and Reentry. He has been incarcerated since he was sixteen years old but has never allowed these circumstances to define or confine him.
Find all books by Knowledge B worldwide wherever books are sold online or exclusively through his author’s links:
https://store.bookbaby.com/
http://amazon.com/author/
For those of you who may want to contact Knowledge B, you can do so by getting at him directly through Text Connect and/or eMessaging on the Securus Mobile App. Abdul-Hakim Works. Resident Identification # 229357. Arizona Department of Corrections Rehabilitation and Reentry.
For those of you wanting to connect with him indirectly, you can find Knowledge B on all major social media platforms under the username ceohoodsquare except for Facebook, which is ceohoodsquare12, and tharealHoodSquare, and LinkedIn, which is Abdul-Hakim Works.
A Real Hood Square’s Perspective
https://tharealhoodsquare.com/
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