Silence can keep you alive, until it starts taking your life from the inside. We sit down with International Award Winner, Rich Dunning, author of Silence Was My First Language, and trace the path from a childhood in the Bronx surrounded by poverty, evictions, and relentless violence to the hard-won beginnings of a future he refused to surrender.
Rich shares what it’s like to live under an abusive stepfather he calls Scarface, where safety depends on reading footsteps, predicting moods, and staying invisible. We talk about the weight of watching a sibling get hurt, the lifelong impact of shame, and the complicated reality of a mother who is both victim and participant. He also opens up about homelessness as a teenager, sleeping in an abandoned train station while still making it to school, showering in the gym, and pushing through a day no one understood.
Then we turn toward the lifelines: baseball as refuge and a scholarship, neighbors and mentors who model what kindness looks like, and one unforgettable teacher who protects his dignity when she sees what he can’t hide. Rich also reflects on his grandfather’s wisdom about releasing identities that no longer protect us and the difference between responsibility and shame, ideas that land hard when you’ve survived severe childhood trauma.
Part one closes with the question hanging in the air: when you finally “make it,” what happens to the pain you carried there, and what role does alcohol play in the story that comes next? Subscribe so you don’t miss part two, share this with someone who needs it, leave a review, and tell us: what helped you find your voice when silence felt safer?
