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  • E10 E10 First Person Charlottesville - Incarcerated Mothers Advocate-Candace Williams
    2026/08/29
    Maxicelia: Welcome to First Person Cville, the podcast. I’m your host, Maxicelia Robinson. I’m also a co-host of ‘In My Humble Opinion’ from 101 Jamz. I’m joined today by Candace Williams. Candace spent 18 years in central Virginia prisons. She’s the founder of Legendary AveNew, LLC — a consultancy that advocates for incarcerated women, mothers, and caregivers. Candace: A lot of people asked, how did you start a for profit while you were in prison? It was simple. It was easy, just being able to identify and go through a lot of the things that we went through as women being incarcerated. One of my good friends was like why don't you just take that pain and put it into purpose? Max: And Candace went through a lot of pain while she was incarcerated. She was in lockdown for about six months. Not only was she cut off from other women, her friends, her parents, and her grandparents, she was also trying to raise three kids from the inside — one of which she gave birth to in prison while strapped to a bed. Candace grew up on the other side of that equation. Her mother was in and out of prison, starting when Candace was about six years old, leaving her mostly in her older sister’s care. By the time she was a teenager, Candace was living with her grandparents. Candace: They gave me the love that I was yearning for, but at that time, at that point in my life, I wasn't receiving it because I was already angry. I was, I could say damaged, but I had been going through a lot since childhood. And it was just something that I wasn't trying to hear. Candace: I glorified the street life. Max: Why was that so appealing to you? Candace: My childhood with my mom, like just seeing individuals that would come around that was living that street life. Certain things that they were able to get and then just you know being raised by my grandma going in and out of the church and not having those things it just made me something click in my mind and I was like I gotta do it. Max: That seemed like the exciting life. Candace: I wanted to do that. Max: And it sounds like you never even still connected the dots between while the lifestyle that mom was living seemed great to you, look where mom is right now, that might mean that that lifestyle leads to… Candace: But the thing about it is, I always said I would never be like my mom. Candace: Grace Williams is great, my mom is phenomenal, but I'm talking about as far as incarceration. Max: Okay. Candace: I'm gonna be able to do what I want to do and I'm not gonna be incarcerated. I will always say that they say never and say never… Max: Right. So you had some warning signs? Candace: Oh, all the- listen. Max: Mm-hmm. Candace: I've had so many warning signs that I did not pay attention to. I'm definitely telling you if I were to…who knows how my story would have been written after this, but if I definitely would have paid attention to the signs, I definitely wouldn't have been in that situation. I didn't want to. 1 [music] Candace: So I remember getting to an age and, you know, really just wanting to hang out. And I remember my grandparents going and buying a cowbell. Anybody know what a cowbell is? It's like the loudest thing and they used to put it on the back of the door. Max: Okay. Candace: Because I would sneak out to go out to either like U parties or go places I wasn't supposed to go. So I got to the routine of where I would get up because I knew my grandma and granddaddy was asleep. Max: Mm-hmm. Candace: And I will hold the bell part and open the door. And then kind of leave a crack. And mind you, these are individuals that are well seasoned in their age. They're sleeping in the house and I left they door cracked and I would just take off and I will run to go to wherever I went to. I could have looked at the signs that they did kind of see it. They were trying to address it in their own way. And that starts with that cowbell on the door. I think that was a way… Max: But for you that was… Candace: That was like, are y'all trying to hold me back? I'm trying to live my life. But now that I'm older, I realized that that was my grandma and granddaddy saying, okay, if we hear this cowbell, we can get up and try to stop her. Max: It was a good idea. But that cowbell didn’t work. One night, when she was in her teens, Candace snuck out and went to a house party. Candace: And I remember the dj coming on saying Candice Williams… Max: Oh no they didn’t... Candace:…your father is downstairs. Max: Good for him though! Candace: So I remember looking downstairs and my dad had on these short shorts and these red Fila shoes. He was so embarrassing and I seen him going like this and I tried to go out the back door. So he ended up taking me to his house where I left again. Max: Okay. Candace: And I went to one of my cousin's house and the following day my dad came and got me and took me to my grandma's house. So when I got there my grandma was like somebody's on the ...
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    17 分
  • First Person Cville | Incarcerated Mothers Advocate-Candace Williams - Ep. 10 Audiogram
    2026/08/29
    IMHOTALKSHOW

    https://www.cvilleinclusivemedia.com/projects/first-person-charlottesville/

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    1 分
  • Did God Allow Trump To Rise Again?
    35 分
  • Charlottesville Community Schools
    35 分
  • E8 First Person Charlottesville - Yogaville Survivor
    2025/10/28
    Charles: Before we get started, a quick content warning. The following story contains mentions of sexual abuse and suicide and could be difficult to listen to. Maxicelia: Welcome to First Person Cville, the podcast. I’m your host, Maxicelia Robinson. I’m also a co-host of ‘In My Humble Opinion’ from 101 Jamz. Back in 2015, Brianna Patten was struggling with an undiagnosed Bipolar 2 disorder. Brianna: So most people think of bipolar as rapid mood shifting, but bipolar two is you're depressed most of the time, and then kind of randomly maybe like once or twice a year, like a mania or psychosis would happen. and I was a sophomore in college. I wasn't really enjoying myself. I had switched my major like five times at that point, and attempted suicide. And at the end of that semester, I said I need to take a break from school because it's stressful, I don't know really what I'm doing here. So I worked at Yellowstone National Park for that summer. And while I was there, someone said, there's this place in Virginia, it's kind of weird, but I think you'd like it, it's called Yogaville. And I was like, “oh, I'll look into it.” Maxicelia: Yogaville is a spiritual community located in Buckingham County. It opened in the 1980s and was the brainchild of Swami Satchidananda — a guru who created a practice called “Integral Yoga.” (He was also famous for giving the opening address at Woodstock.) At Yogaville, practitioners can take workshops — or join weekend-long retreats — or be trained as Integral Yoga instructors — or even live and work in residence there. Brianna: And they had a program on their website that was $500 for a month. You learn about yoga philosophy and live a yogic lifestyle and live in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia. And I said, I can do that for a month. And that's how I ended up there. Maxicelia: As your story goes, it was great you thought maybe you had found the answer to your mental health needs and maybe a new kind of lease on life so to speak. Brianna: Yeah, that first month was really amazing. I think the routine every day of structured, you wake up in the morning, you meditate, then you do a yoga class, you eat a healthy breakfast, maybe do some service, which could be cleaning or working in the kitchen or working on the farm that they had there. A lot of really smart, people and very friendly. So I was really enjoying myself and was feeling my mood improve. I was not really familiar with Hinduism at all. I had taken a lot of yoga classes and enjoyed the physical aspects, but at Yogaville I had learned a lot about the more complete version, and yoga classes is only one small aspect. And they say that doing the physical postures is to stretch you out so that you can prepare for meditation and kind of seek enlightenment is that. So I was really intrigued by that and had this whole new world opened up to me and was learning a lot. Maxicelia: Okay at any point during that one month time period, did things seem a little weird to you? Brianna: It felt very kind of old, like the carpet was still from the 70s. Swami Satchidananda actually died in 2002. So I never met Swami Satchitananda personally, but most of elders there knew him while he was there and talk about him like he's alive, his pictures everywhere, they have a wax figure of his body in his tomb there. So I was a little bit weirded out. But I had already paid so I figured, you know, it's just a month, I can do it. And I ended up liking it after only a few days there. I really enjoyed it. Maxicelia: When the month-long program was over, Brianna took a job in Death Valley, California. But it was…just way too hot. So she quit and moved back to Yogaville to start a more intense version of their training. Brianna says her parents were wary about her living at Yogaville, at first. Especially her mom — because Brianna shaved her head to make holding some yoga postures easier. Brianna: Yeah, she was really sad about that, And my dad was like, oh, I like your hair like that. And, but then after I came back and I was enjoying it more, and they saw that I was happy and enjoying myself, they obviously knew about my suicide attempt, and they were like, you know, if you're happy, and you seem like you're really healthy here and you have a lot of good connections, I think this is good for you. Maxicelia: So you get back, and shortly thereafter, it sounds like things change for the worst. Brianna: Yeah, I started hearing more about the negative aspects about Yogaville, how these, I guess more like the ashram politics of different swamis who were, I Guess, almost competing for authority. And it's just a tight-knit community. So everybody kind of knows each other and hearing about drama in that regard, but then also hearing things about how Swami Satchitananda, just, I heard rumors that he was taking advantage of some of his devotees sexually. Maxicelia: And ultimately ended up having an...
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    17 分
  • First Person Cville | Yogaville Survivor-Briana Patten - Ep. 9 Audiogram
    1 分
  • Who Is Abigail Spanberger?
    12 分
  • E7 First Person Charlottesville - Pastor Michael Cheuk
    2025/05/05
    CL: Welcome to First Person Cville, the podcast. I'm your host, Charles Lewis. I’m also the co-host of In My Humble Opinion from 101 Jamz. Today we are joined by Pastor Michael Cheuck. He’s the author of an essay called, “In Charlottesville's Summer of Hate, a Chinese-American Pastor Found His Place in the Struggle for Civil Rights.” Pastor Cheuk and his family immigrated to Shreveport, Louisiana from Hong Kong in the early 1970s. He was in elementary school at the time, in a town where hardly anyone looked like him. MC: And that experience really shaped and formed my desire to really fit in, to assimilate. Having said that, though, the model was white America. I quickly picked up some of the assumptions of like what it means to be a “good American,” how one should speak, how one should act, how one should dress - in the context of Shreveport, right. And so I'll tell you one story. We lived in a neighborhood that was built right after World War Two. And it was a declining neighborhood. There were white folks, there were Black folks, you know, a handful, a couple of Asians, because my uncle and his family lived literally across the street, right. We were eating dinner and I heard a knock on the door. So I kind of made our way up to the front and kind of peeked out the window. And I saw this Black man. I didn't know who he was. And I looked a little bit further down and there was kind of a car and maybe the hood was up, you know. And I froze. All four of us just went quiet as a mouse. And we just did not respond. And then after a while, that person went across the street and knocked on the door and one of our Black neighbors opened the door. And a couple of minutes later, you know, they were trying to start his car. CL: Right, right. MC: And I came to the realization that, my goodness, I was probably... 10 or 12? I hadn't been in the States for that long. But there was this assumption that, “Oh, strange Black men are dangerous.” And somehow that message that was never explicitly told to us got embedded into my psyche. CL: So where do you think that that internalization came from? And what part do you think that experiences like that play into your understanding of race relations now? MC: That's a very good question. because and i have to confess, right it was a long time ago, so there wasn't like a moment. or… But I do believe that it was kind of like in the air that I breathed. I went to First Baptist Shreveport, and that is a church that was quite affluent. There were no Black people. And so I think part of it was my own insecurity. A part of it was, you know, like wanting to kind of attain that level of respectability. And I think on the flip side of that then is like, “Well, maybe I either should not really relate to or have an openness to kind of have a relationship to some of the kids who are Black in my own street.” And those are some of the things that I think culturally, looking back, I can see how my path kind of diverged. And I took the path of, “Let's try and assimilate myself into the white kind of standard.” CL: Fast forward to 2015 and Pastor Cheuk was living and working in Charlottesville. He got a call from another pastor in town who wanted to bridge the he saw gaps between religious congregations — gaps in diversity and inclusion that Pastor Cheuk had grown up with. MC: The Charlottesville Clergy Collective came together after the shooting at Mother Emanuel. Pastor Alvin Edwards, pastor of Mount Zion First African Baptist Church here in town — former mayor and school board chair — he asked himself the question, “If something like that, that happened at Mother Emanuel, were to happen at my church, what would I do and who would I call?” He started calling the pastors that he knew for a breakfast to come, and he asked that question. When he asked it, we looked around each other and then Alvin dropped the bomb, the mic, whatever, and said, “I would call none of you because I don't really know you. So: what do you think about us coming together regularly, monthly, to have conversations, to build relationships? So that at the very least we get to know one another and we learn to trust each other more. So that if and when, God forbid, something awful happens, we might have, we can support one another.” So that was in 2015, right? And then Trump got elected in 2016, and we began to like, “Oh, you know, there's just certain things that we need to do to be more public instead of just getting together for breakfast and talk.” And then we had the beginning of 2017. There was so much more activity and interest from other faith groups and other faith leaders saying, “Hey, this Unite the Right thing, right, or this KKK coming is not good. What are we going to do about it? What are you all thinking about doing?” CL: Now you stated in your writing that that initially um you were not going to respond to the Unite the Right rally. MC: Yeah...
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    13 分