About half of my 10-year reporting career was spent covering the police and court beats. I’d get dozens of letters from inmates requesting help on their case, or other matters. It’s not unusual for a reporter to receive inmate letters on a daily basis. Most often I’d throw them away without so much as a glance, dismissing the inmates’ stories as typical jailhouse rhetoric.
Now I wonder how many great stories I missed out on.
It wasn’t until I received feedback from inmates in response to my 2005 USA Today essay about my incarcerated father and brother that I started to really read the inmates’ stories.
I’m glad I did.
The inmates were from prisons in North Carolina, South Carolina, Louisiana, Georgia, Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, Texas and California. Their letters were full of testimonies of how my story inspired them to reach out to their children – many of them hadn’t seen their children in years – and they shared stories of their prison experiences.
One inmate from the Collins Correctional Facility wrote: “Your article made a lot of us feel not alone and we know we have hurt you, all of you. I speak for all of us men who have fallen victim to our own selfishness and blindness, we are sorry.’’
And in 2007, when I wrote a second column for USA Today about some black people being “stuck” in the ‘hood, I received dozens of more letters from inmates. These stories were just as powerful – if not more – than the letters three years ago.
The emotions conveyed in all of the letters were raw and honest, and the writing eloquent and powerful.
And thus began my personal quest to help inmates exercise their free will to write.
Writer and activist Amiri Baraka once said jails and prisons have become “explosive resources for revolutionary change.”
Prison writing is that avenue for change. For many inmates, writing is the only will they have to stay alive.
I've started this blog to give these men and women a voice – one that will be heard – and to continue the legacy of great American prison literature.
Inmates have stories to tell and lessons to teach.
The time to listen – and learn – is now.
I love Baraka. If your nephew is a fan...I would pass him along if he hasn't alread encountered him.
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