Former gang member turned mentor honoured on the Football Blacklist says Portsmouth 'saved his life'

‘I understood myself only after I destroyed myself, and only in the process of fixing myself, did I know who I really was,’ says Duke Harrison-Hunter.

Duke, 59, who now lives in Paulsgrove, is the equality, diversity and inclusion officer at Pompey in the Community (ITC) – the charitable arm of Portsmouth FC.

In 2020, after just 18 months in his role at Pompey ITC, Duke was named on the Football Black List for his contribution to the game at a community and grassroots level, with more recent contributors and sports personalities including Marcus Rashford, Nuno Espirito Santo, Ivan Toney and Nikita Parris.

Now a successful changemaker, Duke’s experience in a London gang selling and taking drugs and his rise from what he describes as ‘rock bottom,’ is what makes his story so awe-inspiring.

Growing up near Woolwich, in London, Duke didn’t have the easiest start in life. He, his brother and their mum were subjected to serious domestic violence in the home at the hands of his then ‘violent’ father.

‘It was the Jamaican way, that's all he knew, rule with an iron fist, I grew up in fear,’ says Duke.

‘Fearful of coming home after school, I never knew what mood he was going to be in.’

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He recalls one incident he and a group of friends played truant from school and went back to his house, thinking his dad wasn’t home.

‘We were there for 20 minutes and who walks in? My dad. He beat all of us in the house,’ he says

‘I ran out with no shoes on and came back at 10 o'clock at night, he beat me again.’

When Duke was nine, his mother ‘disappeared’, leaving he and his brother with their abusive father, even spending a year in the care system before being pulled back out by their dad.

‘The physical abuse continued for a few more years and I left home at 16,’ he says.

While Duke had worked hard in school and left with a set of good qualifications and the ambition to be a quantity surveyor, with no place to go and suffering from the trauma he’d experienced throughout his childhood, he soon found himself a member of a local gang.

‘This is what everyone was doing, it seemed fun at the time. I had no one to say ‘stop doing that.’ One, I had no role model so I could do exactly what I wanted, two, I was taking drugs, three, I needed some fast money and four, peer pressure.’

‘Before you know it you're wrapped up in this gang world, and doing all kinds of street robberies,’ Duke says.

Homeless and ‘sofa surfing’ Duke says his life started to ‘spiral out of control’ and over the course of more than 20 years, he was incarcerated three times, all the while struggling with heroin use and the decline of his mental health.

‘I was just running riot and going mad because I was on my own, I had to survive,’ he says.

‘That behaviour went on for years, I’ve been robbed at gunpoint in my own flat, I got kidnapped, tortured, shot in the leg – all because of my behaviour.’

Duke reached his limit when his relationship broke down due to his drug use, he was thrown out of his home, lost all his belongings and found himself living in drug dens to get by.

‘I was only okay if I was on drugs – if I wasn’t on drugs I was a madman,’ he says.

‘I was in a lot of despair, every morning I’d wake up saying I can’t do this I can’t do that, it was like this every single day for years, struggling with my mental health.’

Duke began reaching out for help, calling detox centre’s daily to ask for any available beds. Eventually, he told a support worker that he had no choice but to get arrested again to have somewhere to sleep that night.

‘That’s when he passed me the phone,’ Duke says.

‘I had three choices, back in prison, in the ground, or in a mental institution. I didn’t really like those, so I needed to turn it around. I knew I had so much to offer, I’d seen friends die from heroin overdoses and friends doing big sentences and I didn’t want that to be me.’

But Duke’s real opportunity came when he was offered a place at a detox centre in Portsmouth, forcing him to cut ties with everyone he’d ever known.

‘I had to change everything, contacts, phone numbers, and relocate. Portsmouth basically saved my life,’ he says.

‘It was very difficult for the first year or two. I couldn’t get used to the Portsmouth lifestyle, it was pretty calm, people were nice, they had time to talk to you, I wasn’t used to that I was used to buzzing around.

‘I was at the bus stop once, I said to a lady ‘excuse me, where’s your nearest tube station? She said we don’t have tube stations here, we only have buses and boats,’ he laughs.

In 2013, Duke began working at the Wheatsheaf Trust, and since then has helped more than 150 young people from the ages of 16 to 24, all of whom had complex needs through youth offending backgrounds.

‘Coming from a gangster background, I can see the journey that these kids are already going on,’ says Duke.

‘Once they’ve met me and they can see that I speak their language and they think ‘actually Duke’s alright,’ they then relax and slowly open up.

‘It’s about building that trust,’ he adds.

After being made redundant from his Southampton post, Duke was in search of a new challenge, landing the role at Pompey ITC in 2019, dealing with racism on a matchday and bringing community leaders together to find ways to make Pompey more inclusive.

In his role, Duke also helped instigate the Premier League Kicks Targeted programme, which works with young people from the ages of 14-17 who are going through the youth justice system.

‘I brought my mentor skills here and started the mentoring funding,’ he says.

‘You learn those skills from the streets, it’s about behaviours, consequences and changing your belief systems.’

Since turning his life around, Duke’s ‘super power’ is giving back to the local community which he feels he owes his recovery too.

‘Now the buzz that I’m on is free – because it’s life! I don’t drink or take drugs, I’m up at six every morning. I’m embedded in the community and I’ve made lots of friends. I didn’t have that before, not true friends, just drug users.’

Duke often has to remind himself how far he’s come.

‘I used to wake up withdrawing from the drugs the night before. Shaking like I’ve got pneumonia, your nose is running, your body’s weak, your bones are hurting, you can’t move, you’re cold.’

‘Now,’ he adds. ‘Every morning I sit by myself in silence for about five minutes, whether it’s on the end of the bed or in the front room, the telly doesn’t go on, I don’t look at my phone, just calming down the brain.’

Not only does he take his own mental and physical wellbeing seriously, he also stays in regular contact with those he mentors and is always available for advice and support.

‘I send one positive affirmation to 100 people every single day. I’ve been doing it about six years.’

‘I used to be a drug dealer, now I'm an affirmation dealer,’ he laughs.