“Drapetomania” in my own words
By Maxwell Melvins
Dictated to and Edited by BL Shirelle
I murdered my best friend accidentally. He was a loving, kind, beautiful soul. Moments before this tragic event occurred was my first time seeing him in years. We were inseparable as children, but our paths became disconnected due to my choices in life. I began acclimating myself to the streets as a teen; becoming a drug addict and a gangsta while he was evolving as an activist and a man of the community. It was inevitable for my journey to end in destruction, but the fact that my hazardous path crossed someone so special has truly made life hard to live.
💔🙏🏾❤️🩹
The release of "Drapetomania" has made me look back on my 40 year career with more clarity than ever before. The lyrics really resonate with my personal experience; serving 32 years in the penitentiary, always feeling insignificant and small. Not realizing all along - I was always good enough. I remember I got shipped to a prison called Bordentown at age 19. It was a facility for youth offenders. I was so angry at myself for what I’d done. I had a serious problem with authority, always defensive…waiting for someone to try me. A guard gave me a direct order to leave the mess hall, but I refused. Some colorful words were exchanged and before my young silly ass could even weigh the consequences, a squad of guards jumped me and I was facing a hearing examiner. She sentenced me to serve a year in solitary confinement. She also recommended that I be shipped out of the juvenile prison. Instead of going to Rahway (where I thought I was going), they sent me to Trenton State Prison: a maximum security, last stop prison. A prison that has to accept EVERYONE. The worst of the worst does their time there. In solitary, the bathroom was called “the rocks.” The toilet was on a slab of concrete 4 feet high above the ground, and the guards gave you a bucket of water to flush it after each use. I hated climbing up there at 19. I can’t even imagine attempting to now.
I used to sit in my cell and listen to music on the radio all day and think…”How do they come up with these songs?… Their words are just beautiful.” I got so curious about it, I started jotting lyrics down, writing poetry that I didn’t share with anyone. Alone in my cell, I would recite them in an attempt to soothe my soul. I was blessed enough to have support from my family early on in my incarceration and they used to send me Jet and Ebony magazines and all sorts of reading materials. Since I didn’t share my hidden talent with anyone, I was craving for feedback. I didn’t know if my stuff was good so I would submit my poetry to music publishers placed in the back of the magazines, but I never heard back from them. Until one day, I’m in my cell reading Jet, listening to the radio and I hear “Don't put me off, 'cause I'm on fire, and I can't quench my desire, don't you know that I'm burning up for your love?”... What?!? My song was playing on the radio! MY WORDS! I WROTE THAT!! So I wrote to the company again. It was strange because they didn’t send a critique or anything, just an envelope saying they no longer existed, but if you no longer exist… how did you send this letter? I never heard from anyone after that, but I heard “Burning Up” for a good while. It was sung by a newcomer named Madonna that I had never heard of. I didn’t tell a soul for quite a few years because I didn’t think no one would believe me, but what that experience subconsciously did was affirm that my writing was good enough. Good enough to be on the radio, good enough to be a lead single. Also, that people were watching, listening, and I could access them with my due diligence. So thank you. THANK YOU.
A few years later I made it out of Trenton State and landed in Rahway Prison. I wanted to implement music into the Scared Straight program — or what we on the inside officially called the Juvenile Awareness Program — which was run by the Lifers Group of Rahway. Hip hop was going through a transition in fashion, subject matter and sound that I kept a pulse on. With a firm faith that there were people out there looking to be inspired, I reached out to everyone I could think of to sponsor Lifers Group and landed a deal through Hollywood Basic, which was run by Disney. I knew people would want to hear these lifers tell cautionary tales of how they ended up spending an eternity behind the wall. I knew the artists were capable of telling it in a compelling way… but I still doubted myself. My mental health would be crippling at times and I would question my own talent. I almost died multiple times leading Lifers Group, navigating prison politics. For example, I almost got killed for not letting certain people do the interviews when cameras came into the prison. But I was determined to see it through. I was also willing to die to get this project out to the youth.
I try to live my life through my best friend's eyes. Trying to be of service, trying to be useful because useless is not a desired outcome for life. I do struggle though. A LOT.
Which brings me to “Drapetomania.” In this song, the UMOJA Choir at Warren Correctional Institution is singing how I felt for 32 years. My verses are those fleeting moments when I’ve defied the odds, when I’ve decided to go against what I’ve been conditioned to believe. I hope this song reaches the ears it’s meant to and challenges prison-impacted people to never get too comfortable with our harsh treatment and ill conditions. It’s also a reminder for me. At times, most times if I’m being honest — I don’t feel deserving of love, peace and happiness. The only relief from that is when these young guys reach out to me and tell me how Lifers Group saved their lives. I pray “Drapetomania” can somehow have that same effect, even if it’s only one person.
Watch Maxwell Melvins Interview Series Part 1
Watch Maxwell Melvins Interview Series Part 2
Watch Maxwell Melvins Interview Part 3