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I wrote a letter introducing myself to my new pen pal and she wrote back.
I have boarded airplanes with drugs hidden in my bra, served on a jury while drinking wine from a water bottle. When I think about people who are currently incarcerated, I recognize how easily those people could be me. The prison industrial complex is harsh, unfair, and punitive.
When her son Phil, 23, is asked what she does for a living, “I say my mom’s a secretary for federal inmates…
Basically anything they want us to do, we can do it.” Phil’s specialty is getting the prisoners on dating websites, helping them meet women, and then explaining to those women that their new acquaintance might not be able to grab that drink for a while.
She's a mom to a toddler, like me, and being incarcerated means being away from her kid. Over the course of our letters, I sent her worksheets about the 12 steps [for addiction recovery] to fill out and questions to answer, while telling her bits and pieces of my own story. We talk about her hopes for the future and what she'd like to do when she's released; she has a few more years on her sentence, and she wants to use that time to strengthen her recovery and prepare to live a productive life outside of prison.
And we're almost to a place where we'll get to meet for the first time; when she finishes her fourth step inventory, I will drive up to visit her and she'll read it to me, which will be her fifth step.
Ultimately, I know that I can't do a whole lot to change the broken criminal justice system that unfairly targets marginalized folks with few options, that preys on our society's weakest, poorest, and most vulnerable citizens.