"They call us monkeys and apes. But you know what? I like monkeys. They're cool, man. So I made art from it."

- Aaron Lundy Bey

Could you tell me about the history of your barbershop? The original Scott Street Barbershop was established in 1948, but I began cutting hair in 1993. Fred’s Barbershop is the last branch-off of the original Scott Street Barbershop. Charles was the owner after Mr. Harris. Scott Street Barbershop burned down in 1997, and Charles wasn’t interested in owning a new shop. So, I became the owner of the last remnant of Scott Street Barbershop. Over the years I opened up several locations, and finally found a stable one here. Charles followed me wherever I went. This shop attracts more younger customers than what I expected. No offense, but you and Mr. Charles are in your 60s. How are you able to do this when there’s so much nearby competition? When ya come here, you get a lesson, and a blessing. We try to make sure the youngsters don’t get into to drugs, and to stay focused in school. We’re old, but we try our best to put them in the right direction. I’ve been there and done that. Some of these young bloods leave here and are mentored by the wrong crowd. So, in my perspective, I try to give the younger fellas the correct information. This is so that they won’t say that they weren’t told anything. Ya see, we as Afro-Americans, Blacks, or whatever handle you use, we’ve been through a lot of stuff. A lot of youngsters don’t know exactly what their parents have been through, and many are just reaping the benefits. I try to teach the youngsters to be responsible and take care of their families. Judging from the general feel of the interview, I could see why Fred had a knack for relating to young people. Fred is a laid-back twenty-five-year-old man residing in a senior citizen’s body. While conversing with him, I could see how Fred’s personable attitude attracted young people to his shop. It didn’t take me too much time to appreciate Fred’s personality. When we began the interview, Fred opened his lunch box and offered to share his “ghetto-steak” with me. He proceeded to open a roll of Ritz crackers, and unzip a sandwich bag of summer sausages. “This is ghetto steak. You ain’t never had no ghetto steak before?” He said this while sandwiching a thick slice of summer sausage between two crackers.“This is what we eat in the hood because we can’t afford no real steak,” he chuckled. Fred has a natural charm. Like many barbers, Fred is like the cool uncle to his younger customers. He’s as personable and conversational as a college residential advisor, yet he commands respect like a wise elderly prophet. Tell me about yourself. Are you from Houston?  I grew up in Fourth Ward, Third Ward, and South Park. I’ve been in Houston all my life. A man named Mr. Harris owned a shop across the street called “Scott Street Barbershop.” My shop is a branch-off of the Scott Street Barbershop. When it burned down, me and Charles (fellow barber) moved to several locations. I finally spoke to the landlord who owned this house, which became Fred’s barbershop. So, we’ve been staying in the hood, and staying connected. We have customers from TSU and other people from around the area. Initially, Fred’s story seemed easy to understand. He’s a barber who started his career in 1993, and worked under the guidance of the late Mr. Harris, former owner of Scott Street Barbershop. According to Fred, he and Mr. Charles are the last surviving barbers of the original Scott Street Barbershop. I struggled to find sources of the existence of this shop. According to Fred, Scott Street Barbershop stood less than a mile from his current shop. Ever since the owner died, he and Mr. Charles have been extending his legacy through their influence in the local community through the mentorship of their young customers. How was life for you before making the decision to earn your barber’s license? Before I was able to finish asking the question, Fred directed my attention to the bulletin board across the room. With a chuckled smile, he raised his finger to point at an old off-white certificate pinned on the bottom half of the board labeled “Alcoholics Anonymous: Houston”. Twenty-six years…. it’s been twenty-six years of sober living. You don’t wanna know what I did before cutting hair. Before I was a barber, I was a hustler. I did drugs, drank. So, for many years, that’s what I did before becoming a barber. So basically, I’ve been a barber as long as I’ve been sober. Prior to finding refuge behind the barber’s chair, Fred was an alcoholic and a dope-fiend. According the Fred, the years that spent under the bootheel of substance abuse was a blur. He admittedforgetting about some of the specificsdetails about his life before the shop, but overall it was a lengthy, cyclical nightmare. Every single day, Fred did whatever it tookto feel the warmth of a whiskey blanket, and the smooth glass lips of a crack pipe. Drugs and alcohol held powerover Fred’s life, therefore it dictated all his thoughts, motives, and actions. Every fight he picked, neighbor that he scammed, and peer that he robbed was influenced by his physical need for abusive substances. “Today, I can’t even drink successfully anymore,” he joked. Between the lip smacks of ghetto steak, and his insertions of “twenty-six years” during the interview, Fred’s odd statement of being unable to “drink successfully” baffled me. I asked him to clarify. Drink successfully? What does that mean? Yes. I am thoroughly convinced that I can’t even drink successfully anymore. That means that if I were to ever get drunk again, that I probably won’t kick yo’ ass! You know what I’m saying? I don’t pick fights like I used to. In situations where I needed money for drugs and alcohol, I did whatever it took to get them. Now that I’ve been sober for twenty-six years, I gotta new truck, and a nice house. I’m respectable ya know. I’m still not used to the way people address me now. The first time I heard somebody ever call me ‘Mister Fred,’ I was like ‘damn, they talkin’ bout me?’ A lot of people know my story, and my past. It still surprises them that I became the man that I am today. Fred simply didn’trelinquish drugs and alcohol from his life through his own willpower. Enrolling into rehab was the turning point in his arduous battle against addiction. His addiction and rehab occurred during the Reagan and Bush eras of administration.Cuts to social programs combined with the crack-cocaine epidemic created a recipe for disaster in low-income Black communities. What would your advice be to anyone who struggles with substance abuse? My advice to anyone struggling with addiction would be to go get some help. My recovery program helped me pay for my barber college tuition. When I had my drug habit, my mind was shut out of many things that I enjoy today. I love going to plays, I’m a dancer, and I got pretty nice two-step. Drugs kept me from living my life. When I first started A.A., they had a sign up that said “let it begin with me. Have an attitude with gratitude.” And I was like “shiiit, I ain’t got no attitude or no gratitude!”They told me in A.A. that one day, the unbecomer will become the becomer, and the becomer would be become the unbecomer. At the time, I didn’t know what that meant. But now that I’m older, I understand. God has blessed me to change from being a menace to society, to become a productive member of society. It was a long journey for me. I struggle every single day, because damn near everybody I know is doing drugs and alcohol. I come with a spiritual attitude, and they don’t wanna hear that all the time. I had to choose a different path. My mind constantly tells me that I can return to drugs and alcohol, but my teaching tells me otherwise. I’ve been sober for twenty-six years. Twenty-six years… twenty-six years. It’s easy to fall into the trap of dichotomizing Fred’s life into a narrative of rags to spiritual riches. Our perception of drug addiction often causes us to devalue its victims, and we discount the simple fact that we are all imperfect humans. Fred’s story reminds us that how quick we are to naturally place ourselves above people who struggle with substance abuse. Before cutting hair, Fred was deemed a crackhead by society. Society destined him to perish with a pipe in one hand and a bottle in the other. I believe that one of our greatest fears as humans is to die unwanted and unremembered by the ones close to us. However, we accept this to be the fate for people who struggle with debilitating drug and alcohol addiction. What often happens in our evaluation of human value is that we qualify the right to life by what each of us contributes. The same man who previously robbed his peers for dope money is just as valuable as the man that I interviewed. Like any human being, Frederick Jefferson has dreams and desires. His escape from drug abuse allowed him to achieve a natural high. It granted him the ability to impact each person that sits in his barber chair. Fred uses his rehab completion certificate as a daily reminder of how the unbecomer became the becomer. Fred has been sober for twenty-six years, and he plans to keep it that way for the rest of his life.