Show 1: A Dollar and a Dream[er] Deferred (feat. J. Cole)

It’s Spring 2007, and J. Cole is living in Jamaica, Queens, about to graduate from St. John’s University with a 3.8 GPA.

That’s the same GPA that catapulted me from a B.A. at The City College of New York to 21 year-old, Ph.D. student at the CUNY Graduate Center.

2007 is the same year I was supposed to finish my dissertation on the effects of child abuse over the life course. The undocumented child since first grade was about to make everyone call him “Doctor Cris.”

Instead, it was the year I left doctoral study for good.

At the Forest Hills Drive 10th Anniversary concert on 12/16/24 at Madison Square Garden, J. Cole included “Mohammed crib classics” in the set list. This set list included the early songs his early songs like “2Face,” “Grown Simba,” and “I Get Up”--which were all made while he was renting out a tiny room in Jamaica, Queens from his former landlord, Mohammed.

“Mohammed’s crib” is near 169th Street–-currently also known as Little Bangladesh Avenue. That particular part of Jamaica is Brown–Bangladeshi Brown to be exact. Most of the other areas of Jamaica, Queens have been largely Black since my family and I moved to the area three decades ago.

On the corner of 169th Street and Hillside Avenue, I bought Black music. Dr. Dre’s “The Chronic” and Jodeci’s “Forever My Lady” were among my first 2 music purchases in the 1990’s as a junior high student. But these cassettes were bootlegged. Sure, the album artwork were low grade copies. Yes, some of the songs would fade out inexplicably. But I have always been good at immigrant math: 2 bootegged cassettes for $8 was a better value than going to Sam Goody or Nobody Beats the Wiz to buy just 1 official cassette at $14.99.

On the corner of 168th and Hillside Avenue in the Spring of 2007, I took the Q43 bus a few express stops to return to the tiny attic my family rented since my adolescent years.

I was moving the rest of my belongings back from my 3 bedroom, $1500/month apartment in Harlem.

My mom was about to have brain surgery. And she would be disabled for the rest of her life. That year, after 2 weeks of intense vertigo, my mom went in for further testing that revealed a growth in the base of her brain. It had to be removed. My fantasies of finishing my Ph.D. had to be removed from my mind as well. There’s no way I could focus on a dissertation while helping my mom recover from brain surgery. There was also a new pressure to bring in some money. In the afternoons, I made the 90 minute-each-way commute each weekday to work in Harlem helping dozens of Black and Brown high school students get to college and earn scholarships.

2007 marked the release of J. Cole’s “The Come Up”. For me, 2007 was the downfall of my family and my aspirations.

On the cold, rainy Monday morning of 12/16/24 at 8:55am, I waited inside the 14th Street and 7th Avenue station in Manhattan, refreshing my X feed every 20 seconds on Ibrahim Hamad’s account. That’s J. Cole’s manager, and he previously gave hints on where the secret location for the $1 and a Dream tickets would be

At 9:10am, the announcement was made. My strategy paid off- I was just 1 subway stop away from Union Square, home of Irving Plaza.

2 hours wetter and $1 poorer, I got access to the concert that further stirred my internal debate on who was the best rapper of this era.

Pound for pound, it might be J. Cole. The measure of an artist, or any person for that matter, transcends their own words, deeds, or even their own art.

It’s in the affected. Judge an artist by how they move their fans. I passionately sang all the words to “Planez” and “Power Trip” during the concert, knowing all the places in the song I wasn’t going to say the N word.

The measure of one’s impact is in the fans more dedicated than me rapping every word of every song, absent of the mosh pits I experienced with Kendrick Lamar crowds or the pop crowd sensibilities that came with Drake shows.

It’s J. Cole closing the show by telling us to show love to the stranger next to us at Madison Square Garden. It’s the fan next to me asking me if smoking some weed would bother me- as if he had to get my permission.

The measure of a man is being offered a 3 bedroom apartment for just $1500 because the Puerto Rican kid you helped get to college has a thankful grandmother who’s a landlord.

It’s the Dominican girl, Yakira, who you lock in the college office on a Saturday to ensure she completes her New York University application, finally giving in with full trust, and later being accepted on full scholarship.

It’s how the newborn stops crying when you’re trying to protect him and his mother from deranged death threats from your disabled mother.

And it’s the Indian freshman college student from Salt Lake City who said you should move up a spot because you got to the $1 and a dream ticket line ahead of her but got squeezed out as dozens of fans tried to skip ahead in line.

It’s you telling everyone to go see J. Cole & friends at the final Dreamville Festival in April 2025.

================

As gratitude to our first subscribers, here is access to free concerts by Saweetie (in Los Angeles), Sinead Harnett (in Houston), Jacquees (in Atlanta), and Kane Brown (in Nashville courtesy of Verizon and Complex.

================

To celebrate the launch of Stubs by GrantAnswers (and my recent birthday + a new year), join me and my friends for a free concert on Thursday, January 9th at the BAM Cafe in Brooklyn, NY with one of the most heralded vocalists & songwriters over the past 20 years. RSVP here.

================

About the author:

Cris is Founder/CEO of GrantAnswers, an NYC-based strategy, data, and product consultancy founded in 2013. His work has helped ventures scale nationwide and impacted 1000+ individuals in launching careers in tech and securing acceptances to top colleges/universities. Cris earned a BA in Psychology from CUNY and ascended as a 21-year-old Ph.D. Candidate in Criminal Justice at the CUNY Graduate Center. His speaking engagements for the likes of Columbia Business School, UCLA, Teach for America, and the US Chamber of Commerce encompass career development, entrepreneurship, and technology.

As an emerging writer, Cris integrates Philippine and Saudi Arabian migration, coming-of-age in NYC, and 25+ years of concertgoing to form deeply reflective, intimately vulnerable, and humorously adventurous stories through universal themes of family, freedom, loss, nostalgia, and technological advancement. His piece “Never Tell [A Lie]” is featured in PEN America’s World Voices Festival and the 2025 DREAMing Out Loud Anthology. His journey from immigrant child to award-winning entrepreneur and immigrant rights advocate has been highlighted in outlets such as NYT, WSJ, MTV, and Forbes.

You can help Cris as follows:

1. Sharing vendor/independent contract opportunities related to strategy, product, data, storytelling, and concerts

2. Referrals for paid speaking engagements

3. Brand partnerships w/ media & sports companies, startups, and tech companies

4. A simple subscribe, share and recommendation of this newsletter

5. Warm connections to those who might be interested in publishing my writing

Send a direct message to @Cris_at_Concerts on Instagram