An author, Possibility Lab researcher, Underground Scholar, and advocate, recent BASW graduate and current MSW student Hakim Owen (MSW '2027) shares his path to Berkeley and his work toward disrupting cycles of violence.
Tell us about your path to Berkeley.
I’m originally from Oak Park in Sacramento, a notorious gang neighborhood. My parents met at Chico State, and after I was born, they dropped out of school. A few years later, my mom and dad separated due to domestic violence issues. As an older kid, I found more freedom outdoors. I also found influences that came without guidance, direction, or mentors. I started “getting off the porch” in my neighborhood, where violence was accepted and often respected.
When I was 13 or 14, something shifted. I was taking AP courses at McClatchy High School—I was intelligent, but I’d go home and be scared of my dad. My mom was out of my life; she was performing in Las Vegas and had a crack-cocaine addiction. I found my worth in material things that could get me recognition in my poor community.
Ever since my first felony—for being under the influence of marijuana—I’ve been locked out of housing, jobs, and education. With a criminal record, you don’t just pay once; you’re punished for the rest of your life. I’ve seen the racist hypocrisy of the criminal justice system firsthand: I have two felonies that can block my opportunities; Donald Trump has 34 felonies, and he’s president.
I did one term of solitary confinement for five years and one term for 18 months. I’m a very strong-willed person, but that was the one time in my life death felt like an option. I didn’t experience anything rehabilitative or encouraging. Two neighbors committed suicide; other neighbors self-mutilated. Solitary confinement felt like an accumulation of a lifetime of no agency. It’s a system designed to destroy the spirit.
While I was in solitary, I started writing The Black Testament Trilogy. In prison, The Cartels are popular urban novels, but the books don’t tell the whole story because they don’t address the “why” behind violence. When I wrote my books, I began with chapter one: childhood trauma.
Eventually, I testified to the California Legislature about solitary, but I’m not sure they genuinely want to understand what it is like. Inmate labor is a business. [A 2024 analysis from the UC Berkeley Restorative Justice Center estimated that if California paid its incarcerated workers the state minimum wage ($15 per hour in 2024), it would cost taxpayers $1.5 billion annually. In 2024, California voters rejected a ballot measure to end inmate labor.]
When I was almost out of prison, I met with our education guy, Mitch. Correspondence school was available, and in-person classes were starting. Mitch came in with an Underground Scholars brochure. I suddenly saw school as a possibility. I became obsessed, I put in the work, I manifested where I am right now.
I left prison with that Underground Scholars flyer and around 16 college credit units. I got home, and my living situation was precarious. I was fed up with my past life. I called my sister, who’s an NBA referee. I stayed with her for a year while I went to Las Positas Community College. I finished my associate’s degree and worked as a janitor.
I kept going to Stiles Hall at UC Berkeley to meet with the Underground Scholars staff. The staff, including Daniela Medina (who is now Oakland’s Deputy Chief of Direct Practice in the Violence Prevention Department), gave me direction. They connected me with a transfer coordinator, Danny. Before I got the acceptance from Berkeley, I had been accepted by five other UCs, but Berkeley was always the dream and vision.
Your research explores the impact of violence on Black urban youth. How do you define violence? Where has scholarship missed the mark on this?
Violence is different for different communities. Our experiences are shaped by race, by class, and that determines how we define violence.
I recently presented to Oakland’s Chief of the Department of Violence Prevention to share the experiences of ten gentlemen who are former gang members, now trying to be violence interrupters. Through this project, I learned that the definitions of violence for white and Black people are completely different.
For Black communities, the police are the number one form of violence. When people talk about abolishing the police, at the root of that is a desire to shift the power the police currently have into the community—looking to elders, trusted people who understand the compounded, fractured traumas that people go through. Black communities want to be safe, and we want to have agency over how to build that safety.
What have you learned at UC Berkeley, and what have you contributed to the community here?
Attending Berkeley puts me in the position to not only learn but also to have the language to put into words what I’ve always known. I have gained the language to make my experiences more accessible, to translate what I’ve been through.
The education I have received so far has allowed me to release a lot of the guilt I felt about what I’ve done in the past. There was a time when I wouldn’t see my grandmother when I was out because I was embarrassed. And both my grandmothers died while I was in solitary. The miraculous thing is that I’m sitting here talking to you.
I’m now a transfer coordinator for Underground Scholars, like Danny was for me. I’m most proud that I worked with five transfer students last semester and they all got into UC Berkeley.
Where do you envision yourself after you graduate?
Being formerly incarcerated is a life brand, so for many formerly incarcerated individuals, their idea of success is to quietly live their lives. Success is to be left alone and to hopefully not wind up in the system again. And I understand and respect that.
But if you’re fighting for your community, you’re going to be more visible. You’re going to come into contact with the police. Being politically active can be scary, but I plan to work in Black political advocacy. I see myself going into politics. I have a mentor in Baltimore who has a political advocacy group. He’s guiding me as I embark on this process to launch my Black PAC.
My passion is to help Black men with knowledge of self, with knowledge of educational opportunities, with mentorship opportunities. I hope to put myself in a position to help out.
Hakim received the 2025 Chancellor’s Birgeneau Recognition Award for Service to Underrepresented Students.