Welcome Yaya Bojang to Owen Army! One of the guys I've been mentoring from the Gambia Africa recently joined Owen Army. He is a huge fan of We Fight Monsters and the mission Ben & Jess set out to accomplish. Yaya wants to make a difference in his country for his people and his family. This is a good place to learn.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about war stories—mine and everyone else’s. I don’t hate them. I never have. They matter. They come from real places, real cost, real consequence. When shared with purpose, they teach restraint, humility, and respect for what violence actually takes from a human being. But I’ve also seen how easily they can turn into a loop. There was a time when I didn’t know who I was without my stories. They became proof. Credibility. Armor. I told myself I was honoring the past, but if I’m honest, I was often reliving it. Re-activating it. Feeding something inside me that didn’t want to be quiet. That’s not strength. That’s a lack of self-awareness. I’ve sat through countless trainings as a cop where most of the day was war stories. Some from overseas. Some from the street. Some from decades ago. Stories can be powerful—but when they’re self-serving, when they reinforce identity instead of building capacity, they miss the point. Experience without reflection is just memory. Self-awareness changes the question. Not what happened to me? But how am I relating to it now? I’ve learned that sometimes we don’t return to these stories because they still need to be told—we return to them because our nervous system recognizes the feeling. The certainty. The activation. The version of ourselves that once knew exactly who it was. But growth asks something different. It asks us to carry the past without becoming it. To remember without reliving. To teach without performing. The strongest people I know aren’t the loudest storytellers. They’re the ones who can sit quietly with their past without needing to explain it. They know who they are now. They’re not negotiating with who they were. I don’t want fewer stories. I want more conscious ones. Stories that serve purpose, not ego. Stories that point forward, not backward. Stories that end in responsibility, not applause. The past is a teacher. It was never meant to be a cage.

This is what a normal day looks like for me. No highlight reel. No filters. No politics. Just real life in South Memphis—through my eyes. In this episode of Life Through Ben’s Eyes, you’re riding shotgun with me and Cody as we load up at the house and head straight into the hood. You’ll see one of our former dope houses that we shut down and converted into a Hope House—now being prepared for trafficking survivors and kids who deserve a real shot at life. We stop next door to check in on Crecia and her family—equal parts wisdom, chaos, and comedy. If you’ve never heard hard-earned street truth delivered with perfect comedic timing, you’re in for a treat. Then we head downtown to 777 South Main Street, the newest building we’re fighting to turn into a full-scale detox and rehab center—because recovery shouldn’t be reserved for people with money, connections, or clean pasts. This isn’t a documentary. It’s not scripted. It’s not safe. It’s just life—seen from the ground level, where the problems actually live. If you’ve ever wondered what it really takes to change a city, protect kids, and turn hell into something that looks a lot more like hope—this is for you. 👇 If this matters to you: - Like the video - Subscribe to the channel - Share it with someone who needs to see real work being done - Drop a comment—I read them Even monster fighters get tired sometimes. But we don’t quit.

I’ve seen this loop more times than I can count. ➡️ Not on a whiteboard. ➡️ Not in a classroom. But in living rooms at 2 a.m., on the side of the road, in kitchens turned into crime scenes, and in the aftermath of choices people refuse to own. This image captures something policing teaches you very quickly: Every situation gives you two paths. 🔁 One is the Accountability Loop. 🔁 The other is the Victim Loop. In policing, we respond to the situation—the call for service. What happens next is rarely about lack of options. It’s about intention. I’ve stood across from people who: • ignored every warning • denied obvious facts • blamed everyone but themselves • rationalized harmful behavior • resisted help • hid behind excuses Not because they couldn’t choose differently—but because accountability is uncomfortable. ▪️The victim loop is seductive. ▪️It protects the ego. ▪️It removes responsibility. ▪️It gives people someone else to blame: the system, their upbringing, their partner, the economy, the police, society. And the longer someone stays in that loop, the harder it becomes to break free. The accountability loop is harder—but it’s the only one that leads anywhere worth going. It requires: • recognizing reality • owning your role • making a choice • taking action • learning from failure • self-examination • forgiveness (of self and others) I’ve watched people change their lives when they step into that loop. I’ve also watched people burn every bridge available because they refused to. This isn’t just policing. ‼️It’s leadership. ‼️It’s parenting. ‼️It’s relationships. ‼️It’s life. And if we’re honest, this image is also a mirror for society right now. We increasingly reward excuses, elevate victimhood, and treat accountability as cruelty instead of growth. We explain behavior away instead of confronting it. We externalize everything—then wonder why nothing changes. Policing doesn’t create this reality. It just encounters it earlier and more often than most.

This is more of a general discussion post. I was asked this question a while back and it forced me to really look internally and my answer was a simple I am who I am regardless of the story. I’m curious, what would your answers be?