Dr. Yusef Salaam: Councilman For the People

Ambassador Digital Magazine Editor-in-Chief Musa Jackson sits down for a candid, motivational interview with Harlem’s own Councilman Dr. Yusef Salaam.

At just 15 years old, he first came to the world’s attention as one of the Central Park Five, in one of the most infamous miscarriages of justice in history—a case that shook the nation. After serving several years in prison, his wrongful conviction was overturned when the actual perpetrator was brought to justice, and he became part of the Exonerated Five.

His miraculous journey led him to run for office and win his first political race, becoming Councilman Yusef Salaam. In 2014, he was awarded an honorary doctorate, followed by a Lifetime Achievement Award from President Barack Obama in 2016. He co-founded Justice 4 the Wrongfully Incarcerated with his mother and serves as a board member of The Innocence Project. Part of his story was featured in Ava DuVernay’s award-winning series When They See Us, which chronicled his experience of injustice and ultimate vindication.

He went on to become a New York Times bestselling author with his memoir Better Not Bitter, as well as a devoted husband and father.

Ambassador talks with one Harlem’s favorite sons on his story of injustice, triumph, leadership and faith.

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MUSA: You and I both grew up in East Harlem, just blocks from each other, in the ’70s and ’80s. Tell me one of your fondest memories from that time.

YUSEF: I think it was the fact that I didn’t even realize the poverty we were living in. There was a lack of investment in our community, but we still made something of our lives. We still played tag, even if it was in abandoned buildings. That, for me, was the fondest memory. I couldn’t even quantify it until I got older and could look back.

It’s a weird question to answer because it really takes living long enough, traveling, and experiencing different places to truly appreciate it. Looking back, I didn’t know I was poor. I didn’t realize I was raised in a single-parent household because my mom did such a tremendous job. I didn’t even know I was a latchkey kid.

My mother taught us how to cook—probably to make sure we didn’t burn the house down! (laughs) We were cooking salmon, lamb chops, and vegetables. My favorite was broiled salmon. It was amazing.

MUSA: You’re a true Harlem son. You first came to be known as one of the Central Park Five. Public opinion in those days was not on your side. So when you found out that Donald Trump had taken out a full-page ad in The New York Times calling for your execution, what was going through your mind?

YUSEF: As a young man, I don’t think I truly understood the impact of what he had done. What I do know is that there were times when my mother would say, It’s too dangerous for you to stay here in Schomburg Plaza in East Harlem. My mother sent me to my great aunt’s home in Riverton (Central Harlem). The idea was that I wouldn’t be in familiar spaces but rather away from people who might have wanted to do me harm—who might have taken Trump’s ad literally.

He had told the Proud Boys to stand by. If you read between the lines, he was saying that we should be executed in the same manner that Emmett Till was. My mother understood that deeply because she was raised in Alabama under Jim Crow. She put things in place so that if anyone was following me, they would be thrown off my trail because I wasn’t in the same space. That should have been included in When They See Us. While I was out on bail, my mother had me wearing a hat with dreads and big glasses.

MUSA: Basically, a disguise.

YUSEF: She would say, If the cops come to do something, let them break the door down. I was like, Mom, we can just open the door. I didn’t realize she was trying to teach us that we needed evidence.

In a society where we’ve never been considered fully human, they never truly reformed the three-fifths clause. That mindset is still ingrained in the system. When we look at policing, policy, and procedure—even the Thirteenth Amendment tells you that they shall have the power to enforce this article. The Thirteenth Amendment allows slavery to persist through appropriate legislation.

When we realize that legislation has encapsulated the Black community, and yet we are the ones saying we don’t want to participate civically, we see how the system pushes outlaws into our communities. The outlaw becomes the prophet, so to speak. Even culturally, we don’t say, My nickname is Shaka Zulu. Instead, we idolize some white figure we can never attain—someone who represents lawlessness, the idea that I can do whatever I want.

But that’s a trick. It’s a trap. It’s a diversion away from who we are supposed to be. We are a people robbed of our names, culture, and religion. Because of that, we are a new people, still trying to find a nationality.

MUSA: After you were released from prison, did you have a plan for how you were going to restart your life path?

YUSEF: Man, I thought I had a plan. (laughs) So let me tell you what’s beautiful about my life—and really, the truth for all of us if we’re paying attention. Not only did I have a praying mother, grandmother, and elders, but I also had a community that was preying on us. Not only did I have the seeds of self-worth planted in me, but they were also being watered.

By the time they came to get me, I was already being told, Do the time, don’t let the time do you. I was already being taught, This is how you meditate. This is how you free your mind. Wherever your mind goes, your body follows. I thought I had a plan because, all along, I had been putting into practice the things that were really helping me survive.

Then I came home. The reality of being home—thinking, I have a college degree; I can get a job—hit me hard. On job applications, it would ask, Have you been convicted of a crime within the past seven years? Then they scrubbed that and just asked, Have you ever been convicted of a crime? They were just weeding people out.

Because of that, the other part of my plan had to do with who I had around me. Knowing how to survive after coming from a place like prison, you have to surround yourself with the people you want to be like—people who encourage you. So, for the person struggling to figure out How do I leave a life of crime behind? or for the person who wasn’t a criminal but is being pressured into becoming one, the question is: How do I push back?

For me, it was not only my family but also listening to motivational speakers like Les Brown and Bob Proctor. I found value and wisdom in what they were saying. Les Brown would say, Life is hard. Most people would want to close the curtains and sit in the dark. But he would say, Do it hard. At first, that sounds harsh—until you realize that you have to push through the pain. And then you realize you’re not the same person you were before—you’ve grown, you’ve benefited yourself. Now, you can be a light, an example for others.

The plan was to remind myself that I was my ancestors’ wildest dream. That was the biggest part of the plan. All things work together for the good of God. The Lord is not absent from this.

Even when we’re young, the ancestors tell us, Let go and let God. Even in the most unfortunate situations, my grandmother would tell me, Cast down your bucket. Why are you here?

MUSA: In 2002, your sentences were overturned, and you became the Exonerated Five. Please tell us—what did that feel like for you?

YUSEF: It was the most amazing feeling—one I can’t even put into words. It was restoration, validation. It meant everything.

What’s weird about that moment is that it came and went. It was short-lived. I’ll never forget when my mother went to City Hall to testify. She would say that our innocence received little to no attention. The juxtaposition—when they thought we were guilty—should have been met with the same attention, if not more. She said, “If there was a whisper, she wondered if even the rats in New York City heard it.”

Because if you asked a hundred people from different communities, Did you know that the Central Park Five had their convictions overturned?—some would say they heard, others would say they saw the Netflix series. Yet others would still say, Those guys are guilty. The system, Donald Trump, and others said, They had to be guilty of something. We couldn’t be that far off—look at them, they’re Black.

We’re judged as people who can be converted back into slavery. Because who were the slaves? That pathway is still there. Make America Great Again—what does that even mean?

I’ll tell you—when we were strategizing with our attorneys and various individuals in the community, we were all thinking, They’re going to make this guy (the actual lone attacker) into the sixth man. We were called the Central Park Seven in 1989. Alton Maddox was able to get his client free. He said he would have freed us all if we were his clients.

Then we became the Central Park Six. They cut the trial in half. Three of us—me, Raymond Santana, and Antron McCray—went first. We lost. Kevin Richardson, Korey Wise, and Steven Lopez were next.

Steven Lopez got cold feet. There were all kinds of rumors about the amount of time he might get, so he copped out to something he didn’t do. He took a plea deal and got one to four years, I believe. He came home shortly thereafter.

Korey and Kevin went to trial—and they lost as well. That’s when we became the Central Park Five.

Just recently, through Manhattan DA Alvin Bragg, the sixth member of the Central Park Six was finally exonerated. The significance of that is not lost on me. The truth is, what they were trying to do was make the real rapist—the East Side Rapist, as he was known—Matias Reyes, the sixth guy.

MUSA: In 2023, you were elected councilman of District 9, representing Harlem. Tell us what that felt like and your plans for the community.

YUSEF: That’s so profound for me. I could not be who I am today without the journey. The journey is such a beautiful struggle. I need you to know what it’s like to feel pain but push through it. When you come out on the other side, you speak and act in ways that wouldn’t be possible if you hadn’t been where you were.

Going from being infamous to becoming famous, then asking myself, What else do I do with my life? I became a motivational speaker, an L.A. Times bestseller, winning awards around the globe as an author. Then I realized the next step had to be public service.

So I went from being rejected, to selected, to elected. And I know this is not the end of the journey. I still have work to do. I have to be an example. What better example than being someone tapped into the very idea that Congress should have the power to enforce this article—appropriate legislation.

What is the legislation? How do I reverse-engineer what happened to me, to us as a people, so that we have a fighting chance? So that we erase the curse? How do we do that? Because in our DNA is the very thing that connects us to our greatness. But if we are constantly being told that we are nothing, once we believe that, we unwittingly participate in our own demise.

We have to go from surviving to thriving, and a lot of that comes from organizing. Because what is politics? Back in the day, we’d be on the corner “politicking.” (laughs) It was the brazenness of it—to hell with Jim Crow, with those laws that came out of slavery and still wanted to exist. I’m going to stand on the corner with my people and talk.

But now, we’re dividing ourselves even more when we need to be organizing. It’s not to say there has ever been 100% civic engagement—that’s true. But civic engagement involves every single member of the community, even those who can’t participate because they have a record, or those who don’t want to participate.

Once we organize ourselves and ask, What do we need?—we need our voices to be included. The young people need jobs. We have to provide services. If we’re not getting that, how do we get it? Are we just supposed to wait for the government, or can we organize?

As my late friend Eddie Ellis said, “If you stay ready, you ain’t got to get ready.” We are inside somebody’s plan. Proper planning prevents piss-poor performance. If you plan, you’re already ahead of most people. We’ve been trained to think in a limited way, to operate in a New York minute. We haven’t been trained to sit in silence and think. We haven’t been trained to live in the future while being present.

MUSA: As a father, knowing that we are still dealing with police brutality and the unlawful targeting of Black people—especially young Black men—what advice have you given your children about dealing with the police?

YUSEF: I don’t know if I’ve ever had the talk in a formal way. But in various ways, my children have listened to much of what I’ve said. I’ll tell the world, and by proximity, they’ll hear me say, “You’ve got to listen to your mama.”

I was a person who believed my mother. My personal stance is—don’t participate. But for my children, the reality is knowing their rights.

Because saying, “My father is so and so”-that can get you killed. And then you become a hashtag.

The challenge is getting the best education about what’s happening right now. Because we—so-called people of color—have to live in a reality we don’t control. And because we don’t control this reality, we are always in a state of war.

The uncertainty, the nervousness, the hyper-awareness we live with—you have to understand that when an officer says, “Put your hands against the wall,” I need you to comply as much as you can. Because the officer is there to do a specific job. Even if that job looks like harassment. Even if that job becomes harassment.

If you survive, you can tell your story. If you don’t survive—the pain of your life being snuffed out is too tragic. And we’ve seen too many stories like that.

The club of people who have lost loved ones to gun violence—they don’t want to be part of that club. But what’s worse is knowing that as a people, we have to know about the talk. Because we are just trying to survive. But we shouldn’t have to be in this situation.

MUSA: You have a beautiful, serene sense of calm about you that is approachable. You are definitely for the people. What do you attribute that to?

YUSEF: That’s all about spirituality. I’m a Muslim. I’ve been trained by the Quran to walk without pride. Even if you’re a wealthy person, know that God gave you that, and God can take it away. To be a person who always says, “God is the greatest.” That keeps you in the proper position—the person you need to be. Because when you give recognition to the source, it causes your light to shine even brighter.

For me, I’ve been so humbled. Knowing what could have happened. My life could have been taken because of what Trump put out there. But I’ve learned how to become strong since I was fifteen years old. As many of my brothers would say, we had to grow up really fast. We didn’t have time to prepare—we were thrown into it, and we had to figure it out.

I’ve seen many others come home from prison, and they feel the need to make themselves big. But quiet power is power. That’s a different type of strength. You gain more when you control your mind. Because wherever your mind goes, your body follows.

For me, it’s about constantly being prayed up, making sure I plug into the source. It feels so good. Once a person knows that, once they touch that, they say, “Man, I need more of that.”

But to be something different—to be arrogant, boastful, to think you got here by yourself—that’s tampering with it. That’s turning it off.

MUSA: Mayor Eric Adams was indicted, and it looks like his case will be dismissed, but many members of his administration have either been fired or resigned. Although he has received support from the Black clergy and a few political figures, do you think he’s been a good mayor, or is he being unjustly targeted?

YUSEF: As a Black man, I always want to see Black people win. In that regard, I know there are decisions and circumstances that people in leadership have to navigate because they are the ones closest to the issues. So, I can’t really make a definitive judgment, you know what I’m saying?

From the outside looking in, things can appear chaotic at times—that’s true for anyone in a leadership role. But when it comes to the mayor himself, I’ve been rooting for him since before all of this happened, hoping he would be the best example of leadership that we need as a people.

That said, when I listen to everything that’s going on, there are definitely things I’m concerned about. I think that’s as much as I can say on it, but I will add that if I were in his position, I know I would have to make some very difficult decisions. Because leadership isn’t just about you—it’s about everyone you serve. And when you hold that kind of position, you have to make sure you’re covering and representing everybody, not just yourself.

MUSA: We are at an interesting crossroads in American politics. Donald Trump, a convicted felon, has reclaimed the presidency and is destabilizing our economy with tariffs, eliminating DEI funding and initiatives, increasing deportations, and recently firing top-level officials who opposed him. Additionally, there’s the creation of DOGE with Elon Musk—a non-elected official running it. What does that tell you about the state of our democracy?

YUSEF: The state of democracy as we once knew it is over. We are in a different space and time, and we should all be very concerned because what we are witnessing is, in many ways, a shift from what I call righteous collaboration into a very dark space. It’s almost the embodiment of what scripture warns us about: “The real fight we have to fight is against spiritual wickedness in high and low places.”

When you are the leader of a country, you are supposed to bring the whole nation together. You’re supposed to unite us, not divide us. But I think the worst part of what we’ve been experiencing—both times—is that we are more divided than ever. People’s lives and livelihoods are at stake.

Look at the cuts we’ve seen—programs being stripped away from people who truly need government support. These are individuals who have given their blood, sweat, and tears—people who served in the military, for example. They need and deserve their benefits, yet they’re having their livelihood taken away. Some have already passed away because they couldn’t return to work. That’s just one aspect of it.

But when we take a step back and look at everything, we see a leader who is dangerously close to being a dictator. And you would think people would have time to adjust, but we’re not dealing with Trump 2.0—we’re dealing with a version of him that has been lying from day one. He told us, “I’m not part of Project 2025—that’s a myth,” or whatever else he said. And yet, here we are, barely stepping into this new administration, and everything is already crumbling around us. Life as we knew it is gone.

But here’s the thing—Black people have always been resilient. No matter what this country has failed to give us, we know we’ll survive. When I was campaigning, I realized something important: we are living inside someone else’s plan. And that’s fine—if you have your own plan. But we, as a people, don’t have one. We’re being run over by the spiked wheels of so-called justice. We’re being told to live in the margins, and some of us believe we’re supposed to be there.

We are our ancestors’ wildest dreams. But not all of us believe that. Some of us are made to feel like we are our ancestors’ worst nightmares. And when we don’t believe we belong, we become victims of the forces designed to destroy us—whether that be drugs, alcohol, or worse. And I’m not even talking about the lighter stuff.

Look at what happens in our communities. During the height of COVID, liquor stores were deemed essential businesses. But liquor stores in affluent neighborhoods don’t look like the ones in our communities. In their neighborhoods, they sell fine wines and dessert liqueurs. In our neighborhoods, they sell the kind of alcohol that will knock you out.

People are trying to escape. That’s why drug overdoses are on the rise. It’s not that people want to die. Every time they wake up and open their eyes, they think, This can’t be life. Even if it’s just for a moment, they want to escape. We see them in the “dope fiend leans.” Now, people aren’t just leaning—they’re falling over. The other day, I saw someone smoking crack.

America has shifted, and it has led us to this moment. We are in the fight of our lives, but we cannot give up hope. We must remember that this is just four years. They say the best of us have a five-year plan. But I say we need a 50-year to 100-year plan.

If you’re 50 years old and you have a 50-year plan, that means you’ll be secure if you live another 50 years. But if you have a 100-year plan at 50, that means you’re thinking about generations yet to be born. The Native Americans understood this—you have to plan for seven generations into the future. That kind of thinking is critical.

This is the beautiful struggle. We’re being educated through life itself, learning lessons that no classroom could ever teach us.

MUSA: How do we prepare as a community under this administration?

YUSEF: As a community, unfortunately, I think what happens is that we tend to think, If I’m all right, I’m all right. But we know that as a people, we’ve been the only ones who have thought about others as we rise. We’ve lived by the adage, We lift as we climb. The problem is that not everybody is there, because we’re at various levels of survival.

When you’re in survival mode, you can’t think with clarity. That’s just the very nature of being in survival mode—you won’t do the things you would normally do if you had your whole mind and your whole time. You might find yourself saying, You know what? I might have to dig in the trash and drink something. I don’t even know if the person who threw it away was sick, but I gotta eat. Or, in the worst-case scenario, I’m gonna throw on this mask and go up in there and try to get it while I can. I don’t wanna do it, but I gotta do it.

As a community, we have to figure out: How do we lift as we climb? How do we help those who are succumbing to the lowest aspects of life, those struggling the most? How do we reach out and lift them up?

I always think about what Jay-Z said when describing how he wants to help. He said that when you’re in a position to help people, sometimes you have to shut everything down and focus on building the bread factory—because if all you have is a loaf of bread, and 40 people come asking for a slice, you’ve given away everything. Instead, you have to build the factory so you can feed people consistently. That’s where collaboration and righteousness come in.

The missing ingredient in all of this is faith. Faith allows us to mature—when we were children, we thought and acted like children, but as adults, we have to put away childish ways. Some of us are still in that space, still trapped in cycles of self-doubt and regret. But we have to learn how to forgive ourselves. When we look in the mirror, we have to remind ourselves: We are not who we were.

The world, however, may not see that. The people we may have harmed in the past will remind us of our past mistakes. But we need to have faith that breaks that cycle and allows us to move forward, to heal, and to grow.

This is Ramadan. In the Quran, in the 96th chapter, the last two verses say: Surely, with difficulty, there is relief. Most certainly, with difficulty, there is relief.

We, as a people, have been under the foot of oppression for so long that we want to believe we’ve reached the promised land. But the promised land might just mean I made it home to take a shower before I go back out there. Because the last verse in that chapter says: So when you are free from your immediate task, still labor hard, and turn your attention to God.

We want to be able to say, Finally, I can rest. But the reality of our existence is that we can never completely relax. The secret is to remain faithful so that in those moments of celebration, we can celebrate—before returning to the work we still have to do.

We’ve fallen into a space where the word neighbor has been removed from neighborhood. We are all living in survival mode, thinking only of ourselves and our immediate circle. Even within our own communities, we hear the saying: All skinfolk ain’t kinfolk. Because of the oppression we’ve endured, the things we’ve had to do to survive have changed us.

But now, in my role as a leader, I have to figure out how to bring us back together. How do I tell my people: You can forgive yourself. You can rise up out of the gutter. Because that’s the key to our human potential. A person who lives recklessly is often someone attempting suicide in slow motion. If we can reach that truth, we can help people realize that it’s better to live with intention, with purpose.

In community, I say Good morning to my neighbor. I say, Peace and blessings to you. I give grace and mercy. I allow space for the we to exist. Because we need that.

MUSA: Although the Republicans are behind this catastrophe we’re in, why aren’t the Democrats taking a stronger stance against all that is happening?

YUSEF: It goes back to the fact that we are a people who follow rules and regulations. If you say the red light means stop, we stop—even if it was yellow, and we needed to get to where we had to go. Meanwhile, Republicans as a body—not all of them—seem to be moving like the rules and regulations are just for us.

We haven’t yet come to the truth that our very lives are on the line. We’re playing checkers while they’re playing chess, and not just any chess—they’re playing like it’s Game of Thrones.

Jay-Z once said, “What I eat won’t make you [use the bathroom].” He didn’t say it exactly like that, but what does it mean? It means if I’m eating steak, lobster, flounder—all the good stuff—you might look at me and think, “Man, he’s living well.” But that doesn’t do anything for you. You’re not eating that. So how do we, as a people, figure out that truth?

We don’t have two lives—we only have one to live. We have to live full so we can die empty. Like Les Brown said, “We can’t live on the island called Someday I’ll do this, someday I’ll do that,” because when you come to the very end of your life, you’ll be greeted by the ghosts of everything you didn’t do—the book you didn’t write, the call you didn’t make. But if you do the work, if you push forward, at the end of your life you can say, Man, not only am I well pleased with what I’ve done, but the Great Creator will also say, I’m well pleased with you, and you are well pleasing.

So we have to ask: Do we want that? Do we want to live with that kind of purpose?

In America, they say left wing, right wing—it’s the same bird. Republican, Democrat—it’s still America. But right now, the allegiance to what looks like the Republican Party feels very evil. It feels like someone who wasn’t elected is being allowed to rule the country, like a shadow government—Elon Musk, for example. I’m not saying he is wrong, but what he’s doing is wrong.

And we allowed it to happen. We got comfortable. We made it, we thought we could kick our feet up and relax. We forgot that we are still in the struggle. You know what I’m saying?

So I think, as a people, those of us who attach ourselves to the good Republicans know that there’s work to do—because something is wrong in that party. Those of us who attach ourselves to the Democrats also know there’s work to do—because we’re being overruled and overrun, and all it seems we can do is hold up a placard, wear a T-shirt that says Resist.

But we can do so much more.

We need the greatest of our minds coming together to strategize. To figure out what we need to do to protect ourselves, because if we don’t, we’ll end up back in survival mode.

It reminds me of what was said about the Jews during the Holocaust:

“They came for these people, and I thought, ‘Thank God I’m not those people.’ Then they came for these other people, and I thought, ‘Thank God I’m not those people either.’ And then they came for me, and by then, it was too late.”

We have to recognize what’s happening now. We need the foresight to see where this is going, how they’re moving, and we need to move like masters in this game of chess.

MUSA: You are a board member of The Innocence Project and co-founder of Justice 4 the Wrongfully Incarcerated. Tell us about their mission.

YUSEF: The mission I originally attached myself to was the organization my mother founded, where I became the co-founder. The origin story of Justice for the Wrongfully Incarcerated begins with my mother taking action because they took her son. She started an organization of concerned mothers, which became Mother Love, then evolved into People United for Children, and eventually transformed into Justice for the Wrongfully Incarcerated.

It’s about dismantling one system and building a new one. The mission is about ensuring justice—how do we create and sustain a space of justice, equality, truth, and faith? Somebody has to stand up. Somebody has to be the voice for the voiceless. If they try to silence you, I’ll amplify your voice. If they try to dim your light, I’ll help you shine.

The Innocence Project is a unique organization with both a national and international presence, focused on freeing people who have been wrongfully incarcerated. Their work is particularly powerful because they’ve been able to exonerate individuals through DNA evidence—people who were convicted of crimes they did not commit. Some of these cases are among the most egregious injustices, where individuals have spent over 40 years in prison for crimes they didn’t commit. Tragically, some have even been exonerated posthumously because they were executed before justice could be served.

Being part of this fight is deeply personal to me. As someone directly affected by the system, I use my lived experience to push for change. Even before this, I was marching for justice. At first, it was about protest—governance through activism. Now, I’m in the halls of power, working within the system. This transition has taught me that politics is layered with bureaucracy. The saying goes, Rome wasn’t built in a day—which is true—but you need a blueprint and a strategy to build something structural so that Rome can be built.

MUSA: A part of your journey was told in Ava DuVernay’s acclaimed series When They See Us, but you decided to write your memoir, Better Not Bitter. What did you learn about yourself through telling your own story?

YUSEF: What was beautiful about When They See Us is how Ava DuVernay allowed us to take our lived experiences and turn them into something powerful. Through that series, now they see us. We became a reflection of all Black people in particular and brown people in general.

Ava crafted the story in a way that gave people a window into our world. It was as if she threw me an alley-oop, and I had the opportunity to elevate, make my move in mid-air, and land a powerful slam dunk.

During the writing process, I found the experience liberating. It felt good to talk about things I had buried deep inside. Since When They See Us was a four-part series covering five individuals, Ava had to make tough choices about how to capture the essence of each story. And she did it masterfully.

When the series ended, people started asking me, “Man, how are you the way you are? There’s something about you.” The film gave them a glimpse into my journey, but it felt like Ava was saying, “Now, you take it from here.”

That’s why I wrote Better Not Bitter. It allowed me to go deeper, beyond what was captured in the series. It wasn’t just a memoir of woe is me, I went to prison. It was about confronting myself, about understanding how I grew through what I went through. Because simply surviving something isn’t enough—the real lesson comes when you learn from it and evolve.

They say, the person who enters the storm and survives is not the same person who exits it. That person walks away with new tools, wisdom, and understanding that allow them to face the next storm. That’s the beauty of writing Better Not Bitter.

I realized that When They See Us was for me—it was part of my healing. Better Not Bitter was for everyone else. It was my way of telling the full story.

Initially, I thought that after publishing my memoir, I could finally kick my feet up. But I soon realized it was just another chapter in a much longer journey. Now, I’m behind the curtain, using everything I’ve learned to navigate a new battlefield—politics.

As the saying goes, politics is warfare without bloodshed. Now, I have to move strategically because people’s lives are on the line. This is real.

I’ve gone from struggling to get a building repaired to writing legislation that ensures buildings get the repairs they need. That journey has taught me so much.

Growing up, we were often given inferior products because we didn’t know any better. We weren’t introduced to what was truly valuable. It’s like someone handing me this cheap product, and I think, Wow, look at what I can do with this! Then, decades later, I realize it was nothing. Meanwhile, they had taken something from our own land—like shea butter—told us it was worthless, and sold us their version instead. That’s the lesson. We have to recognize our value and reclaim what’s ours.

MUSA: You were awarded an honorary doctorate in 2014 and a Lifetime Achievement Award from President Barack Obama in 2016. You’re now Harlem’s councilman, Dr. Yusef Salaam. Is there any chance you might one day run for mayor, governor, or even president?

YUSEF: What I will say is that I have to be about the business of what I’m doing right now—the office of councilman. But what I will also say is, if I get elected every term, I will be term-limited after 10 years. I know that for the rest of my life, I am a public servant, wherever that takes me and whatever room I’m in.

I know that social engagement and the political landscape are not necessarily for everyone, but they require everyone to participate. When it comes to locally elected officials, those are the ones who make the biggest difference and matter the most in your communities. Statewide and national positions also matter, but what’s beautiful about this moment is that I’m realizing this is where I’m supposed to be—wherever this takes me. I’m meant to govern with truth, justice, and equality, as a person of faith, with fairness.

The equity that is needed allows for equality to be restored, and that might mean, as a councilman, advocating for more funding. Because we’ve been divested from for so long, another district might need a little, but we need three to five times more than what is typically given. That’s not inequality—that’s restoration.

I’m looking forward to the brightness of the future. I’m looking forward to governing in the right way. As someone who has always said, “I’m not a politician,” I want to make sure this is not politics as usual. I love the fact that I didn’t enter this space as a traditional politician, but I now have the opportunity to realize that this is where it all counts. You have to be part of the structure, making the right moves, passing legislation, and engaging in righteous collaboration.