INTRODUCTION: I was born in Italy by accident, survived Kensington by luck, and became “In Between” by choice.
My name is Donald Miykhoel Di Giacomo—but everyone calls me Donny. I was born on April 9, 1982, in Luzzi, Calabria, Italy. The story behind my birth is this: my parents had flown to Italy for Christmas in 1981 to visit my father’s grandparents, especially my Nana. My mother was five and a half months pregnant with me at the time. Back then, international air travel was more lenient. What was meant to be a short trip turned into a long stay when Nana’s health declined. By the time things stabilized, my mother was nearly eight months pregnant and couldn’t fly. So Italy became my unexpected birthplace.
I’m a chef by trade—but that’s only one slice of who I am. I’ve got a soft spot for classic gangster flicks, and old cinema especially from the Golden Age of Hollywood (1930-1949). I collect toy cars the way some people collect memories—because, for me, they are memories. I’m an Aries through and through: bold, stubborn, and honest to a fault.
But above all, I’m a father. My oldest daughter, Mearea, is 23. I wasn’t there the way I should’ve been when she was young—selfishness kept me away—but I've come to know her now, and that means everything. My youngest, Destiny Marie, is 7. She’s a spark of light in a world that tested me over and over and at one point I thought was nothing but darkness. They are my anchors—my heartbeats.
I grew up in Kensington—one of the toughest neighborhoods not only in the city of Philadelphia but of that in the United States. By 17, I had already been shot three times and grazed a few more. I’ve survived two brutal motorcycle crashes—one that sent me flying, and one that left me bleeding in the street. I’ve been stabbed in the face with an ice pick. I’ve overdosed more times than I care to admit. I’ve walked through the chaos of addiction, violence, and street life and I survived.
I lost my mother on December 31st, 2010. I lost my father on September 5th, 2019. I’ve faced enough drama and darkness to drown ten lives. And even though the world doesn’t owe me a damn thing (except maybe an apology for the bullshit), I’m still here. And I’m grateful. Because everything—the pain, the loss, the chaos—taught me something. It didn’t just break me down; it built me into the man that I am today.
What I’ve learned from my trials and tribulations is when I was shot, it taught me to never ignore my surroundings. When I was stabbed it taught me to always stay aware. Overdosing taught me that drugs are just a slow fade into nothing. The motorcycle crashes taught me to take life one curve at a time. Losing my parents taught me that time isn’t promised and to love and appreciate those while you still can.
But I wasn’t always the man I am now. I was a shy kid once. That didn’t last long. I grew arrogant and reckless. I thought the world owed me something. I pretended to be something that I wasn’t. I craved approval, wore masks, and hid behind a false image—because I didn’t know how to love myself. I wanted to be seen, but I was afraid to be known.
Truth is, I’ve always been someone with a big heart. I feel deeply, I love fiercely, and for those that I consider to be friends I'll do anything for without question. Loyalty means everything to me.
I'm just at a stage of my life where I appreciate every battle I’ve survived. I don’t try and hide or run from my past. I don’t glamorize it but I I'm not ashamed. It shaped me, but it doesn’t define me.
What defines me is what I self proclaim myself to be and that is an In Between. Not quite an angel. Not quite a devil. Somewhere between Heaven and Hell. I’ve brought a little hell into the world, sure. But I’ve learned how to offer a little heaven, too. Life taught me that duality is survival. That balance is power. I can move in crowds or walk alone. I enjoy people, but I don’t need them. I know who I am. And more importantly—I’ve made peace with it.
