Life was the last word I heard the judge say before I entered what’s called the Texas Department of Criminal Justice. At 15 years old, I was viewed as a child by many. But, to the system, I was an adult. Now, I am 23 years old and just a number in the system.
I was placed in a huge dormitory with older convicts and offered no privacy. My job assignment was chopping grass – often taller than me – with a garden tool to the count of four. In the older days, this was considered a chain gang.
If I failed to complete the job, I’d receive a case, which would hinder me from going home another year. This put me in a mental strain – but only if I allowed it to.
There’s a lot I could elaborate on about this place of confinement, but I’ll express what I’ve obtained by being here. And, no, it’s not rehabilitation.
This place will make or break you. I see and hear so much negativity, but I refuse to lose my sanity. I’m considered an outcast because I am a young, black, uneducated female sent to prison for a crime I didn’t commit.
Will I do time or let it do me?
The decision wasn’t hard to make.
I immediately enrolled in school and obtained a GED. I also found an old timer who was legally savvy. You don’t have friends in a place like this, but, at some point, you manage to find someone who’s positive and you can learn from.
I began working on my case because I would not allow this place to be my home. I refused to subject myself to the humiliation of forgetting where I came from.
To exercise my mind, I read every book around. I took up trades such as carpentry and welding.
Staying connected to family also helps the time pass, but it also makes the situation that much harder if you have children.
I should know.
I’m the mother of two children.
You can’t come here being quiet, and there’s no such thing as being a model inmate. Sometimes you have to have a little drama and then gain self-composure.
To the Board of Pardons and Parole, getting knocked down and coming back up shows them you’ve learned something here. Then – and only then – will you make parole.
The ups and downs of this place help me keep my sanity. And doing what I felt I had to do is the reason why I am soon to be released. I’m carrying my self-respect with me and am now a strong, black woman.
To all young people reading this: Hold it down out there. Appreciate your mothers, fathers and professors. Fulfill your goals and enjoy life so you won’t enter here and be serving life.