About Me

This may be a bit of a roller coaster ride.
Darren McDuffie grew up on Jefferson Ave on the East side of Buffalo NY. For legal reasons, there are certain very important people Mr. McDuffie has to unfortunately leave out. Darren McDuffie is the oldest of several siblings. As the vast majority of inner city neighborhoods were in the 90’s, he lived in a very tough gang infested neighborhood. Darren McDuffie stated, "I was fortunate to have come from a decent household. Not perfect but decent. My household was definitely much better than the majority of the friends I grew up with." At this time, his neighborhood was loud and vibrant. “Every day in the summer someone was playing music outside their windows. I used to love that. The neighbors would leave their doors open during the day and everyone was like a big family at that time.” Darren McDuffie said at one point the neighborhood was very fun and filled with great memories as a young kid. Consequently, he stated that the year of 1999 was the turning point. This was the summer Darren McDuffie graduated elementary school. “This was a crazy summer. Everyone was making the transition from being kids to teenagers. Gang life started to become a culture. Everyone was either stashing or carrying guns. Things started to change that summer.” At just fifteen years old Darren McDuffie worked full time at the corner store at Jefferson and E Ferry. He was paid cash under the table every week. His dad allowed him to work there from Monday through Saturday as long as he completed his homework. "It was crazy working there. So many things went on in that store. I won't dare mention most of what we were doing in that store out of respect for Toby and his community. But Toby and Mohammed made sure I was taken care of. Mohammed had an AK behind the counter and Toby had a shotgun in the back for me. In an emergency, Mohammed would motion for me to go to the back as we had a one way window. Mohammed would lock people in the store and I would go to the back and grab the shotgun looking out the window just in case something happened. I was 15 years old, but it was fun as hell. The neighborhood knew the owner as Joe. We called him Toby. He took good care of me and treated me like a son.” Darren McDuffie says that as a grown man it’s tough for him to be in his old neighborhood. He says it gives him instant anxiety. 

“I used to think I had a good experience growing up until I became a man raising a family of my own. For a very long time I resented my father for allowing his son to live in a place like that. The first time I was shot at was across the street from my house while playing football with my friends. I had to be either 12 or 13 years old as I was still in grammar school. The most disturbing part of this was that we all thought it was funny. We ran to my friend Dontaes backyard and continued to stay outside as if nothing happened. As a proper man with a family of my own, that is sickening. If my 12 year old daughter gets shot at, she should be terrified, running home crying and scared to go outside. This is how messed up and conditioned we were at this early age. I did two tours in Iraq and soldiers would fold when they were shot at in a metal humvee with guns, equipment and a full squad with professional training. That reaction is actually normal. We were children and it did not phase us. That is not normal. Not to make this a pity party because I cannot stand that, but I lost the best friend I've ever had while growing up in this place as well. Rayshawn Mcbride was his name. I believe he was 16 years old at the time. I remember my auntie Paulatte calling me screaming and crying on the phone. She kept saying, ‘Darren don’t do nothing, promise me you won’t do nothing.’ I kept asking her what was wrong, but she made me promise her that I would not do anything. She then told me, ‘Shawn dead, he’s dead Darren, they killed him.’ Before that call, I had heard a bunch of gunshots near the field by my house. It was weird because my stomach dropped like I was on a roller coaster. I thought nothing of it. After my auntie told me Shawn was dead, I did not believe it one bit. Rayshawn was selling crack cocaine at the time but literally would not hurt a fly. How do I know this? One day, Rayshawn broke up a fight. As a result of him getting in the middle of it, Rayshawn was scared. He came to my house, told me what happened and asked me what he should do. Because of who this guy was, I told Rayshawn that he knew what he had to do. He said he did not think that it was necessary and that everything would boil over, as all he did was break up the fight. Shawn and I got in a serious argument that day as I was very adamant about going after this guy first. As I stated, he would not hurt a fly. After I got off the phone with my auntie, I walked around the corner to go see Rayshawn at his house so I could talk to him about my crazy auntie. As I walked down Lyfe street, I saw police lights and half the neighborhood standing outside. J****r was walking towards me. I kept asking her what happened. She had her arms folded and kept shaking her head telling me no, over and over again. I started to walk up to the scene and stopped as I did not want to believe it. My best friend was shot in the head. That changed me after that. I became extremely aggressive towards anyone who remotely threatened me. There was no such thing as a fight or a disagreement after my best friend died for breaking up a fight. And as usual, it was not intended for Shawn. I will not say his name, but the guy who was actually fighting that day was with him. He was shot as well, and of course he lived. We were all teenagers at the time." 

“One of the most dangerous and terrifying situations happened to me while I was working at the corner store. My recording artist Drip Sanchez actually raps about this situation in a song called, ‘used to be me.’ I was going to pick up my fish dinner down the street. There used to be a grimy corner store at Woodlawn and Jefferson St. As I walked up to the store, I saw a bunch of guys talking. They stopped talking and posted up as I walked closer to the store. I did not want to walk right past them, and I damn sure wasn't turning around so I walked into the corner store. As I purchased a piece of candy there were more guys standing in the store. One of the guys came from outside and told the other guys to come out of the store. I’m thinking to myself oh my god, it’s like eight dudes out there about to jump me. I had no idea who they were. I did not recognize them, and had no idea what was going on. All I knew was that these guys are about to do something to me. It’s about eight of them and they all looked way older than I was. Was I going to make it worse by showing weakness and staying in the store? Absolutely not! All I had was a pen in my pocket. I made sure the cap was off. I held it as tight as I could as I walked out of that damn store. I figured I can stab one of them if they tried to snuff me, and that would give me enough time to break away and run back to the store. The only thing in my mind was to make sure I got to the store if they tried to jump me. I was scared out of my mind and trying not to show it. I walked out of the store, and they were all posted up quiet not saying anything. So, I continued to walk to get my fish dinner. Till this day I cannot figure out why I did not turn the other way and head back to the store when I walked out. Once I crossed the street, they all followed me. The one guy said, ‘come here we gotta talk to you.’ I said talk to me about what? All of a sudden the chase started. I ran down the street into the fish store. Mind you, this was very late at night and no one was out at this time. I was completely alone. When I ran into the fish shop, things changed. There were three guys in my face, one of which I recognized very well. I told them who I was and where I was from. When I said that, literally all of the other guys walked to the back of the store and put their heads down. There were a vast amount of words exchanged. The main guy I knew had his hand on his waist, holding his gun, and kept talking s**t to me. I s**t you not, all of a sudden the cashier pulled his gun out on all of us. He said, ‘all you little n***s get out of my store and take this outside.’ I told that man I wasn't going anywhere, they are going to kill me if I go outside. As he had his weapon pointed, he told me to stay and made them all go outside. One of the guys in the back walked past me and said, ‘my bad D.’ I used the restaurant's phone to call my grandad to pick me up. I did not call my dad because I knew that he would not take me with him to look for them. My grandad came quickly and had his gun in his lap as I knew he would. I put my seat back, rolled the window down and said they were over there. We drove around for about an hour looking for them and none of them were outside. I assumed that someone had told the three musketeers that I was from there, so they chose not to be outside as they knew what was coming. Needless to say, that corner store was empty and safe for a very long time, as we had people looking for them every day. The corner store eventually burned down some years later and is no longer at the corner of Woodlawn and Jefferson St.”

“I can keep on going with things such as this but this became a normal thing in the neighborhood for me at that point in my life. This is why I get anxiety when I am in that area. Most people were unaware that I was involved and that I grew up like this. At an early age I learned how to use the lesser minded people around me to do what I need them to do. As a result of this, I had also learned at a very young age how to hide and play the part. It was a shame. I thought I was the man and tried to justify my actions as I became older, but I now realize I was a disgrace. At the age of 13 or 16 yes, you are certainly a product of your environment. Consequently, at the adult age of 19 and 20, there is no excuse.”

“One night I was walking to my office and a group of homeless drunk guys were near the water. One of the guys called my name. It was a guy we called Red. I knew Red very well and got pissed when I saw him on the streets. He was doing a good job trying to change his life the last time I had saw him. He was a volunteer for one of our community organizations and helped me during several community events when I was a community police officer. We also knew each other from the same hood when we were younger. I looked at one of the other guys standing with him and it was one of the 3 musketeers that was in my face that night. He was one of the guys standing next to the guy with his hand on his gun wanting to kill me. There he was, standing outside my office building by the water as I had my computer bag in my hand and my suit and tie on. He looked at me and said, ‘yo I know him too, that's Duff.’ Red then said, ‘that's my man to bro, he a good one.’ He then looked at me right in my eyes and said, ‘he was proud of me and glad that I'm doing well.’ No matter what happened with us in the past, I felt terrible that my brothers were out there like that. Right now my baby brother is currently serving a very long sentence. I pretty much helped raise that boy the best I could. But then again, it’s not a brothers job to raise their parents' kids. My other brother was locked up for almost 15 years and my uncle is fighting a case right now. His girlfriend  just delivered a beautiful little girl this month. I love my uncle so much. Our neighborhood and this street culture literally ripped us apart and really messed us up. If it doesn't kill you, it messes you up mentally. In jail, dead or even worse; homeless & drunk outside my office building."

“It would not be right if I did not give a special thanks to all of the positive people I had in my early years. My next door neighbors, Mrs. Martha, Mrs. Maurry, Mrs. Freda and so on. Mrs Freda is the reason why I always wanted to play the piano. She would allow me to walk right in her house to play her piano. Also the teachers and staff at school #53. I had some of the best times in my life while at that school. A vast majority of our teachers either lived in the neighborhood or were active in our neighborhood. I remember Mrs. Mims used to leave the door open to her house when she lived on Woodlawn. We would just walk in Mrs. Mims house and grab something to drink. I left my notebook at school one day. Mrs. Mims knocked on my door, cursed me out and asked to speak to my mom. She told me to be more responsible etc. I remember when my assistant principal Mrs. Ortiz contacted me during the summer. School was way out of session, but she still contacted me to help her at her church. We were gone for half the day and she took me for ice cream. The assistant principal cared about me so much, she picked me up in the summer and took me for ice cream. There are so many names I can mention. Maybe I will place them all in a book one day. With that said, it would not be right if I did not mention Mr. Ledge. He would tell me to walk proud with my head up. Every time my head was down or standing slouched he would tell me to keep my head up and stand up proud. One day I told him sorry for something. He looked at me dead in my face and said, ‘boy don’t you ever say you’re sorry, you are not sorry, say I apologize because you are not a sorry man.’ During that time, the teachers and the staff at school #53 helped mold many of our lives for the better. Keena became a Corrections officer. Felicia has her doctorate degree and is living in Las Vegas running a school. C****d works for the FBI. Natasha is an RN. B****n works for the federal government as well. Justin is now a Buffalo Police officer. I can keep going, but we were very fortunate to have the staff at school #53.  I cannot wait to be able to donate to my old school. I cannot thank them enough for everything they did for us in that crazy ass neighborhood.”