Growing up in East Oakland and living in the Black community, one thing we learn early is adversity. Another thing we learn after that is opportunity. When we mix these together, the result is the birth of an entrepreneur—someone who can turn nothing into something.
One cultural figure that many of us born in the '80s, '90s, and even the 2000s learned about in Oakland is Felix "The Cat" Mitchell. Who is he, and what is he known for?
I was talking with my sister yesterday, and she inspired me to write this post. I asked her, "Have you ever heard of Felix Mitchell?" She said no. I then asked my mom, "Mom, did you know that China has never heard of Felix Mitchell?" She replied, "My mother used to babysit Felix Mitchell when he was a baby."
The story goes like this: Growing up in poverty, Felix Mitchell inherited an Oakland with limited opportunities for Black families. What he was forced to do was make chocolate cake from lemons. What started as selling weed developed into total control of Oakland’s and even California’s heroin trade in the Black community.
The irony lies in the fact that Felix Mitchell’s community—the 69th Village—is the same area where the Black Community Survival Conference took place in 1970. This event was organized by the Black Panthers to support the survival of the Black community through programs like free breakfasts for children, the Black Panther School, and initiatives to support mothers that would soon evolve into WIC. We must acknowledge that without children growing up in environments like the one Felix Mitchell came from, there might never have been a need to develop the Black Panther Party in the first place. Felix Mitchell represents a classic ghetto rags-to-riches story.
Fast forward to 1983: Felix Mitchell was violently murdered in a Kansas federal prison, where he was serving a life sentence for his involvement in what was described as a RICO case. He was accused of taking on a leadership role in a criminal organization that flooded neighborhoods across California with heroin, creating addicts who were brought down to their most base desires. His involvement in the drug trade symbolized some of the most violent periods in Oakland.
However, our understanding of those violent times is shaped by a media system controlled by the dominant culture—the same culture that has historically been the most violent conquerors Indigenous people have ever encountered. Often, Black men become scapegoats for larger criminal operations. They bear the lion’s share of consequences for problems they didn’t create but simply participated in.
In hindsight, I consider the consequences of Felix Mitchell’s life and the intersection between his story and Huey P. Newton’s untimely death in West Oakland at the hands of a drug dealer while trying to buy crack cocaine. Unlike Felix Mitchell, Huey P. Newton developed a revolutionary ideology that earned him global credibility, influence, and power. While we may never view Felix Mitchell as a revolutionary, he stands as a cultural figure who became the master of his fate. He represented for Black boys growing up in the ghetto a sense of perseverance—the belief that whatever one puts their mind to can be achieved with the right system, a few good connections, and consistency.
It has been said that Felix Mitchell could have been the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. The only problem was that his product was heroin—the same substance given to Sickle Cell warriors every time they enter the hospital seeking relief from pain, hoping for comfort from a genetic anomaly that Western medicine has yet to resolve in a non-invasive way.
What I imagine now is: What if Felix Mitchell had learned about the benefits of Moringa as a high school dropout? With the connections we have today, what might the outcome of his story—and many others like him—have been?
Since we may never know the answer to that question, we can only, in the spirit of entrepreneurship, continue on a path of health, wealth, wisdom, and justice. We must become the masters of our fate with a product that can heal, not kill.
The death of Felix Mitchell was a tragedy. His imprisonment was also a tragedy, as were the countless lives lost to violence and drug addiction. The irony of Felix Mitchell’s life lies in his death—a man reportedly bringing in a million dollars a week was murdered, allegedly over a $10 debt. Yet back in Oakland, he was honored as a cultural hero with a funeral ceremony fit for a king. A horse-drawn carriage paraded through the ghetto, showcasing the wealth, power, and privilege that the heroin trade had provided him.
The community’s conversations during this time often contradicted themselves in the face of news reporters and cameras. When asked whether the celebration of Felix Mitchell’s life was warranted, opinions were deeply divided. Some argued, “Of course not—why should a drug dealer be viewed as a hero?” Others pointed out that the lack of jobs in the community created the conditions that led Felix to drug dealing as an option.
These polarizing perspectives reflect a harsh reality: 30 years later, America has yet to solve its drug problem. Why? Is it because this is a problem that America has created, sustained, and profited from? With American prisons packed with Black bodies and crime rates still rising, the question remains: What do we do for those who turn to the underground economy for meaningful employment? How do we sustain the hopes of the forgotten—the children of enslaved people who were freed from plantations, endured Jim Crow, and migrated north seeking better opportunities, only to face the same bigotry, racism, and discrimination they fled in the South?
Felix Mitchell represents a dream deferred, resurrected and repackaged in the housing projects of East Oakland. But this story isn’t just about Oakland; it’s about the broader Black experience in North America. Survival in this environment has often felt like enduring hell on Earth for the Black family. Now, as we hear chants of "Make America Great Again," we are left wondering: When was it ever great for those of us with pre-colonial connections to this land? For those whose humanity was denied by those who refused to see it in you and me?
In the end, we must find a way forward—one rooted in health, wealth, wisdom, and justice—so that we can truly become the masters of our fate and captain's of our soul.
- Create Society
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