I think so much of my life had me growing up under extreme poverty and really challenging conditions, with having the police in my neighborhood and seeing the impact of over-incarceration. Having a father love up on me and remind of who I was, and my strength against those conditions, really shaped why I'm an organizer today.

I've been an activist since I was a teenager. I was always curious about what we would now call social justice. I remember just trying to navigate growing up poor in an overpoliced environment with a single mother and a father who was in and out of prison.

When I was growing up, my family was plagued by poverty. My mother, a single parent, worked around the clock to make sure her children - me, my five brothers, and three sisters - could eat and have a safe place to sleep. We hardly saw her.

In 'When They Call You a Terrorist,' I reflect on my time growing up in Van Nuys, California, surrounded by my devoted family and supportive friends, weaving our experiences into the larger picture of how predominantly marginalized neighborhoods are under constant systemic attack.

Sitting at a candidate rally is similar to sitting in a ballyard. Both give you the opportunity to assess the technical metrics and reflect on the intangibles - what baseball calls 'make up' and politics calls 'character' - the leadership, talent and maturity to add value to a venture.

My dad had a spell when he came out of coaching doing some work with underprivileged children on quite a rough council estate in Southampton to help the kids and take them out to places. I used to go along with him. I used to play football with them, mess about with them. I was only 13 or 14 and became good friends with them.

Do I miss football in Scotland? It keeps you really alive, that's for sure. Your heartbeat fluctuates. I'm flatlining at the moment which is actually quite nice but you need to go up and down to stay alive.

I've got a lot of very fond memories playing football from the ages of four.