From Oshkosh Correctional Institution in Wisconsin, we watch planes perform dazzling maneuvers. The post What It’s Like to Watch an Airshow From Prison appeared first on Prison Journalism Project ..read more

I have been taking college classes since 2005. During that time, I’ve completed three associate degrees, earned membership in the international Phi Theta Kappa honor society, and recently graduated from California State University, Sacramento, with a bachelor’s degree in communication studies. But even though I have used my time in prison to educate myself, I’m not sure I’d recommend it to anyone else.  It is nearly impossible to find a prison education program that treats us like students who happen to be incarcerated, rather than prisoners who happen to be taking college classes.  ..read more

Shortly after 3 p.m. on April 8, I donned my sunglasses and stood in the center of the prison yard. I watched as the coal-black lunar disc slowly smothered the sun. All around me I heard prisoners clapping and cheering. I removed the glasses, as it was safe to look at the total eclipse.  What I saw left me breathless. Staring at the sky, I remembered the solar eclipse of Feb. 26, 1979, when I was 7. My father had helped me make an eclipse viewer: a cardboard box with a pinhole punched through it and a sheet of white paper glued inside  Aimed skyward, our contraption held a perfect b ..read more

Looking out at the dense, early morning fog, I wondered if the total solar eclipse would live up to the hype.   I am confined to a maximum security prison, and my facility is located in the southeast corner of Missouri, about 30 minutes away from Illinois and Kentucky — smack dab in the eclipse’s path of totality.  At 10 a.m., I went out to the recreation yard and found a secluded spot to sit, think and observe. I watched as starlings, finches and pigeons went about their spring mating and nest-building rituals. No prisoners had viewing glasses, and we all anticipated the lockd ..read more

The sweltering heat on my first day in Sing Sing Correctional Facility, a little more than an hour north of New York City, was unlike anything I had experienced in my life.  My cell sat on the fourth deck of a five-tier block. The heat rose from below. I stripped down to my state-issued boxers and lay on my bunk, praying for relief. Sweat beaded on my skin. No matter how many times I wiped it off, it returned again moments later.  Being inside a cell during the hottest months of the year is like being cooked in an oven. Cells even resemble ovens in their architecture: smooth metal c ..read more

I like to come up with creative catchphrases in prison.  I’ve found delight in cooking in prison. I’ve created a cookie called the “crazy choco loco,” and sometimes people will come up to me and ask when I’m going to make another batch.  For older, heavier white men that I am dear to, I call them my “Tio Rico,” which means “rich uncle” in Spanish. I refer to my church friends, who are spiritual, as “beautiful people from heaven.” But some react better to the phrase “We love you, Messiah,” which makes them repeat the phrase with elevated hands.  And my hometown friends and I lov ..read more

Cancer face. I currently reside in a geriatric prison in Virginia, where this symptom of that terrible disease is a common sight. Previously invisible jawlines miraculously transmogrify into Brad Pitt-like gonions. How can skin so floppy and loose be pulled into such a taut, sallow pallor in just a matter of months?  Such is the life-sucking power of cancer, the leading cause of illness-related death in U.S. prisons. The facial emaciation rivals any plastic surgeon’s scalpel, perhaps more so because nobody’s ever going to say to someone who is clearly ill, “Oh, you’ve had work done!” Can ..read more

I’ve spent most of my 27 years incarcerated in California practicing journalism. I’ve witnessed and experienced state attempts to censor and silence prisoners’ free expression. And I know how important it is to shed light on what goes on inside prisons.  Censorship behind bars has many faces. Banning books is probably the most well-known tactic. But the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation has its own bag of tricks.  At San Quentin Rehabilitation Center, in the Bay Area, where I reside, prison administration reviews stories from the prison newspaper, the San Quent ..read more

The forces that animate our lives don’t disappear in prison. In fact, people incarcerated in the United States find all sorts of ingenious ways to assert their humanity and celebrate their individuality. That doesn’t mean it’s easy. For incarcerated LGBTQ+ people, discrimination and other forms of mistreatment are too often regular features of life. But, in defiance of these difficulties, acts of joy and ceremony, of solidarity and resistance, also are common.  This June, Prison Journalism Project reached out to a handful of writers across the country and asked them to share their though ..read more

There is a magical place at Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility in San Diego, California. Superhero posters and anime artwork adorn the walls. Nerdy games like Dungeons & Dragons and Pathfinder pile up on the back table. Sci-fi and fantasy books occupy the filing cabinet, along with cards from the game Magic: The Gathering. For my group of nerdy friends, this room is our sanctuary. Most people in prison wear a mask to hide who they really are. I suppose that happens in the outside world too, but the effect is amplified in here. In the Nerd Room, no one has to pretend to be someone th ..read more