As shared in the March Newsletter, it is time for the Spring Writing Contest.
There is a depth of resilience and strength that exists within the incarcerated community. Ingenuity; creativity; insight; individuals adapting and even supporting one another to adjust to incarceration and everything that means.
PROMPT: Describe an act you have witnessed that reflected inner strength. That might be in the form of self-control, forgiveness, or community building. It could look like someone spending decades pursuing education and becoming a PhD student and professor while living in prison, like Leo Hylton who was also featured in the newsletter. Or it could look like Benito Rios who is now a Companion Sitter in Texas, supporting those who are in crisis, also in the newsletter. Or it could be someone who shared their extra commissary with his or her neighbor.
ENTRY DETAILS: Only those who live in prison are eligible to participate, & we don’t accept anything that has been previously published. Submission is also permission to edit & post in future WITS projects. Submission is free. Entries should be 1,000 words or less. Poetry is considered if it is inspired by the prompt. Submissions can be handwritten. PRIZES: First Place: $75 | Second Place: $50 | Third Place: $25 DEADLINE: June 30, 2024. Decisions will be posted by approximately July 31, 2024. MAILING ADDRESS: Walk In Those Shoes, Writing Contest Entry, P.O. Box 70092, Henrico, Virginia 23255
PROMPT HINTS: There is strength throughout this community. Benito Rios, featured in the March Newsletter, is an example of someone displaying strength through compassion and empathy for others in crisis as he acts as a Companion Sitter in TX prisons. Benito, who received $25 for being featured in the WITS newsletter, instructed WITS to send the funds to someone he felt needed it more, again displaying strength through empathy and generosity. Today, Benito Rios spent his morning helping others in his unit, older residents with disabilities. He will be participating in facilitating a Wheelchair Olympics Relay that will include racing, basketball shotput, basketball free throw, weight lifting and a pull-up competition. Writing about someone like Benito Rios or Leo Hylton, also featured in the March Newsletter, would be fulfilling the prompt. While Benito did not want to receive funds, he did make the following request:
“I won’t sugar coat anything. I myself am without financially, but I find it fulfilling to help others. But if you know anybody who can stand in the gap with me in prayer, please pass along my info. Keep us in prayer.” – Benito Rios, Jester III Unit, Texas
There are times we can’t change our location, our possessions, our circumstances. Yet there is always an opportunity to ‘Be Change’. What does ‘being change’ mean to you, whether taking personalresponsibility or helping others; have you seen someone doing that – being change? Describe how that looked, and how it impacted you. There is a school of thought that if we each choose to ‘be change’, collectively we can change systems. This prompt intends to inspire each of us to ‘Be Change’ and inspire hope for a better tomorrow.
Entry Details: Only those who live in prison are eligible to participate, and we don’t accept anything that has been previously published.
Submission is free – BUT, even if an entry doesn’t win, we consider entry permission to publish and edit. Sometimes we get so many excellent entries, they can’t all win, but they need to be shared.
Entries should be 1,000 words or less. Poetry is considered, as long as it is inspired by the prompt.
Submissions can be handwritten.
PRIZES: First Place: Blackstone Paralegal Program Sponsorship Second Place: $50 Third Place: $25
DEADLINE: November 30, 2023. Decisions will be posted by approximately December 31, 2023.
MAILING ADDRESS: Walk In Those Shoes Writing Contest Entry P.O. Box 70092 Henrico, Virginia 23255
Footnote: Entries that do not follow the prompt are not passed on to the judges.
For all posts from this site as well as current criminal justice issues, you can also follow us on Facebook or Instagram.
Reflect on a time while you have been living in prison where you have either participated in or witnessed someone else being a part of making a positive difference in someone’s life. Describe the circumstances, as well as what this experience taught you about loving others?
We are all ‘human’ and we all share human qualities, good and bad. Labels like ‘inmate’ or ‘prisoner’ are often associated with dehumanizing thoughts which assist in maintaining mass incarceration. These words and the sense they give that mass incarceration is not a humanitarian issue give fuel to punishment as a political argument rather than an issue that needs cognitive, emotional and spiritual solutions not just physical containment. That is why this prompt aims to capture the existence of one of the most fundamental human qualities and emotions – love.
This experience could be something that took place in a place of worship, the Yard, a common area, visitation or your cell. It could be anywhere, and it could involve anyone, either a staff member or someone who lives alongside you.
Entry Details:
Only those who are incarcerated are eligible to participate.
We can’t accept anything that has been previously published.
Submission is free – BUT, even if an entry doesn’t win, we consider entry permission to publish and edit. Sometimes we get so many excellent entries, they can’t all win, but they need to be shared.
Entries should be 1,000 words or less. Poetry is considered, as long as it is inspired by the prompt.
Submissions can be handwritten.
As done in our previous contests, I will narrow down the entries to the top ten, and then hand them off to individuals to rate the writing with a point system to determine winners.
PRIZES:
First Place: $75 Second Place: $50 Third Place: $25
DEADLINE: August 31, 2023. Decisions will be posted by approximately September 30, 2023.
MAILING ADDRESS:
Walk In Those Shoes Writing Contest Entry P.O. Box 70092 Henrico, Virginia 23255
Footnote: Entries that do not follow the prompt are not passed on to the judges.
For all posts from this site as well as current criminal justice issues, you can also follow us on Facebook or Instagram.
Outside of the case that you are currently serving time for, what would you say is the most significant factor or factors that resulted in your incarceration?
Part of what WITS aims to do is raise awareness and add relevant voices to conversations regarding mass incarceration, and it has been said that those closest to the problem are closest to the solution. Another aspect of WITS is providing a creative outlet for people in prison through reflection. It is hoped that will lead to individual clarity and growth.
Please note, the above prompt recognizes not everyone is guilty of the crime they are incarcerated for. What we are looking for has nothing to do with the crime, rather factors that influenced the trajectory towards prison, for example, possibly childhood trauma, socioeconomic status, race, etc. It can be something from childhood or the day of arrest.
With that said, this prompt hopes to inspire reflection, a look at the factors in our lives that might have influenced our direction outside of ourselves. I’m really looking forward to seeing what this prompt inspires.
Entry Details:
Only those who are incarcerated are eligible to participate.
We can’t accept anything that has been previously published.
Submission is free – BUT, even if an entry doesn’t win, we consider entry permission to publish and edit. Sometimes we get so many excellent entries, they can’t all win, but they need to be shared.
Entries should be 1,000 words or less. Poetry is considered, as long as it is inspired by the prompt.
Submissions can be handwritten.
As done in our previous contests, I will narrow down the entries to the top ten, and then hand them off to individuals to rate the writing with a point system to determine winners.
PRIZES:
First Place: $75
Second Place: $50
Third Place: $25
DEADLINE: February 28, 2023. Decisions will be posted on or before March 31, 2023.
MAILING ADDRESS:
Walk In Those Shoes
Writing Contest Entry
P.O. Box 70092
Henrico, Virginia 23255
Footnote: Entries that do not follow the prompt are not passed on to the judges.
For all posts from this site as well as current criminal justice issues, you can also follow us on Facebook or Instagram.
Solitary confinement, isolation – the hole. Help me to understand the impact on an individual, whether yourself, someone else, or as a whole. Share an aspect of this method of punishment that I can’t understand, never having experienced it.
Woven into the purpose of prisons is the idea of rehabilitation. Prisons are not designed to be the end. They aren’t viewed as the ‘disposal’ of people. The majority of society perceives, is under the impression, prisons are places of punishment and preparation for a more productive life. How does solitary confinement fit into that design?
Every writer I have ever encountered has either had first hand experience with solitary confinement or has witnessed its use and the consequences. Help me to understand what that means.
Only those who are incarcerated are eligible to participate.
We can’t accept anything that has been previously published.
Submission is free – BUT, even if an entry doesn’t win, we consider entry permission to publish and edit. Sometimes we get so many excellent entries, they can’t all win, but they need to be shared.
Entries should be 1,000 words or less. Poetry is considered, as long as it is inspired by the prompt.
Submissions can be handwritten.
As done in our previous contests, I will narrow down the entries to the top ten, and then hand them off to individuals to rate the writing with a point system to determine winners.
PRIZES:
First Place: $75 Second Place: $50 Third Place: $25
DEADLINE: September 30, 2022. Decisions will be posted on or before October 31, 2022.
MAILING ADDRESS:
Walk In Those Shoes Writing Contest Entry P.O. Box 70092 Henrico, Virginia 23255
Footnote: Entries that do not follow the prompt are not passed on to the judges.
For all posts from this site as well as current criminal justice issues, you can also follow us on Facebook or Instagram.
Note: The following prompt was contributed by Terry Robinson, a long-time WITS writer, board member, author and innocent man on death row.
Life can be a struggle, a challenge to get through the hardships and dilemmas of each day. No one understands that more than those who are incarcerated. Sure, life is not all struggle, there are those moments of joy, but for men and women behind bars, we can assume that the struggle outweighs the joy. Prison isn’t meant to be a place for one to thrive, but instead for behaviors to worsen because a cultivated mind is a hindrance to recidivism, which is bad for business, and prison itself is a business.
So, in a place where the joys are minimal, the struggles are constant, it’s a wonder how prisoners make it through the day. Theirs is a resilience worthy of showcasing.
Walk In Those Shoes wants to know – what is your muse? What is the source of inspiration that you draw from in order to get through each day in prison? It can be family, books, dreams of a better life, positive change, education, religion – whatever you choose.
Incarcerated men and women hold phenomenal value. Share what it is that gives you what it takes to overcome your adversities in prison.
Only those who are incarcerated are eligible to participate.
We can’t accept anything that has been previously published.
Submission is free – BUT, even if an entry doesn’t win, we consider entry permission to publish and edit. Sometimes we get so many excellent entries, they can’t all win, but they need to be shared.
Entries should be 1,000 words or less. Poetry is considered, as long as it is inspired by the prompt.
Submissions can be handwritten.
As done in our previous contests, I will narrow down the entries to the top ten, and then hand them off to individuals to rate the writing with a point system to determine winners.
PRIZES:
First Place: $75 Second Place: $50 Third Place: $25
DEADLINE: April 30, 2022. Decisions will be posted on or before May 31, 2022.
MAILING ADDRESS:
Walk In Those Shoes Writing Contest Entry P.O. Box 70092 Henrico, Virginia 23255
Footnote: Entries that do not follow the prompt are not passed on to the judges.
I’ve been shipped to a deeper cranny of hell, and I have very little of my former property. I have no idea why I was shipped, but it is common. Texas has over a hundred prisons, and they ship us back and forth like ballast.
Like everything in life, there are pros and cons to my new digs. It’s a newer style unit, built less than thirty years ago, and that is a pro in that the cages are much larger – and much to my shock, the sinks have hot water, relatively speaking. For the first time in a quarter of a century, I got to wash my hands with warm water. There are, no doubt, other pros just waiting for my discovery, but I’ve been in the hole for a month and that remains my only experience of this place. The first major ‘con’ I came across was staff apathy. Maybe it’s the low pay, the low morale, the lack of structure, or the fact that Texas prisons have been critically short of staff for twenty years. Or maybe it’s simply the subculture.
I was put in the hole upon arrival. Not for punishment, but because I’m waiting for a cage to open up in population. Off the chain-bus, I was thrown in this place. It was so dark, I could only find the toilet and ‘bed’ by feel. The floor was a water puddle – or maybe piss. Probably a mixture because it was so deep. The odor was awful. There were no shelves, or lockers, so the small bag of property I came with stayed on the bunk, which literally became my island. I wasn’t happy but I’ve been through worse. At first I even welcomed the darkness. Privacy is at a premium in prison. But after a couple days, the darkness got me.
As a rule, I avoid hope of any kind. I believe hope is a poison. I have sub-conscious hope, obviously, or I wouldn’t still be alive, but consciously? I don’t do hope. But, whatever hope I don’t do was being leached by the darkness. I had read that cloudy days do have a psychological effect on people. Stimulates the blues, so to speak. That felt true, but again, there’s a difference between knowing something and experiencing it. After a few days, I felt the despair creeping closer. Positive thoughts became impossible. Again, I realized how little value I have, how the world has abandoned me and blah, blah. I had a feeling I was going to die and the feeling kept growing until it seemed certain. Then I welcomed it. I’ve had a horrible life by any standard, why prolong it?
So, why did the state inflict this darkness on me? Well, it wasn’t intentional. It was guard apathy. I couldn’t persuade a guard to bring me a light bulb. Then, on my fifth day, an officer, still new and on-the-job training who perhaps didn’t realize yet that prisoners aren’t human beings, brought me a light bulb. The effect of light on my psyche was instantaneous. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. Suddenly everything seemed… you guessed it – brighter. And it gave me a new piece of wisdom or knowledge – the effect of light not just on consciousness, but perhaps even on a cellular level. People need light to survive. I find that very interesting.
ABOUT THE WRITER. John Adams is one of my favorite writers. I have quite a few ‘favorites’, but in addition to John’s amazing writing, we often don’t see eye to eye when it comes to matters of writing for WITS. That’s not a bad thing, because if I can post his amazing work every now and then in spite of that, it’s a win. John is the first place winner of our final writing contest of 2021. John Adams has served twenty-five years of a life sentence and maintains his innocence. He can be contacted at:
John Adams #768543 3060 FM 3514 Beaumont, TX 77703
Recently, I was thrilled to see a post in social media regarding a successful model of a corrections facility in Nebraska intended to give women a safe and structured place to prepare to reenter society. The post was accompanied by a photo of a lobby that was clean, comfortable and modern looking. There was art on the walls. There was a photo of a cafeteria with typical cafeteria furniture, long tables and standard stools, but there was artwork and it appeared very clean and painted in a soft blue – nothing fancy, but certainly a nice place to eat. The description spoke of an area outside for children to play, how the facility encouraged interaction between those that lived there and their supporters on the outside, as well as classrooms. There were several positive comments after mine, and then there was this one –
“Wow, nicer than a lot of homes in Lincoln. Guess they deserve that?”
And that is the inspiration for our writing contest. NOT who deserves what. We won’t waste time trying to figure out who deserves what. Rather…
PROMPT: Have you ever received or witnessed someone else receive ‘grace’ – unmerited mercy and compassion – and how did that impact you or them?
My best bit of advice for any entry – remember the prompt. There are a lot of ways to approach it, as long as the prompt is the focus, your entry will be considered.
Only those who are incarcerated are eligible to participate.
We can’t accept anything that has been previously published.
Submission is free – BUT, even if an entry doesn’t win, we consider entry permission to publish and edit. Sometimes we get so many excellent entries, they can’t all win, but they need to be shared.
Entries should be 1,000 words or less. Poetry is considered, as long as it is inspired by the prompt.
Submissions can be handwritten.
As done in our previous contests, I will narrow down the entries to the top ten, and then hand them off to individuals to rate the writing with a point system to determine winners.
PRIZES:
First Place: $75 Second Place: $50 Third Place: $25
DEADLINE: December 31, 2021. Decisions will be posted on or before January 31, 2022.
MAILING ADDRESS:
Walk In Those Shoes Writing Contest Entry P.O. Box 70092 Henrico, Virginia 23255
FOOTNOTE:WITS was inspired, in part, by the story of a boy named Jamycheal Mitchell. He stole some food – snacks – a haul of $5.05. He was mentally ill, but rather than being transferred to a facility that could help him after his arrest, he was left in a jail in Virginia to essentially starve to death. He was just 24 years old when he was arrested. He was dead several months later. ‘Wasting’ is a word used in his cause of death. In the months it took him to die, I wonder if anyone who passed by him wondered if he ‘deserved’ that.
Deserve? What does anybody deserve and how different would our world be if nobody spent time worrying if anyone else received compassion – whether they ‘deserve’ it or not?
I will never forget August 30, 2006. I was on A-pod, occupying B-dayroom’s recreational section, nexus to Death Watch on Texas Death Row. It was after 5:30 p.m. and visitation was over, so I headed toward the front of the dayroom, hoping to catch a guy I affectionately called RoadDawg. His real name was Derrick Frazier, but many knew him as Hasan. Before that, he was Castro – like Fidel, Cuba’s former dictator.
Hasan never knew his father. His mother left when he was fifteen, weeks later to be found dead of a drug overdose. He had an abusive stepfather. Eventually, Hasan grew tired of the abuse and ran away. He began living in the streets and soon after was adopted by Crip gang members. Becoming a new member meant he had to get a new name, and that’s how Castro was born.
I didn’t meet Castro until after he arrived on Texas Death Row. It was then that he denounced his gang, took up religion and became a Muslim. He studied the religion relentlessly, renaming himself Hasan and following the ways of Islam. He founded two newsletters – Operation L.I.F.E. and the Texas Chapter of the Human Rights Coalition, and that is how I came to know him. Hasan took his money from that and practiced ‘zakat’ towards his fellow death row inmates, no matter what race or religion. If you didn’t have, he gave clandestinely.
When he told me he had received an execution date, he said it as if he was telling me the score to a football game that I had missed, there was no emotion – at least, none on the outside. He told me he was going to unroll his mat and pray… and he did.
Hasan had a friend from Canada that was seeing him through visits. He even had her visit me. He was visiting with her on August 30, 2006, as I stood in the dayroom waiting to get a glimpse of him, to somehow communicate my solidarity through a look I planned on giving him. Shortly after 5:30 that evening he came walking through the door, looking like a king who stared down adversaries without an ounce of fear. He hadn’t noticed me, so I called out to him. Robotically, he turned my way, and seeing me, broke free from the escorting officers’ grips and started my way. He was handcuffed, and the guards didn’t stop him. I had no idea what I was going to do, but I stuck my hands out of the bars and gave him a hug. He began to cry, tears that fell rapidly, knowing time was running out.
Then he kissed my left cheek, whispering into my ear, “RoadDawg, do me a favor. You have the best chance of any of us here. Get free. Go home. Don’t let these folks win. Promise me!”
I told him nothing. Not that I didn’t want to. I was still shocked he kissed me, and at the same time the guards started calling his name and came to retrieve him to bring him into the ‘death watch’ cell. It all happened so fast, words eluded me, and I watched my friend walk off.
That night I was standing in the door of my cell, all the lights off on the pod, when I became aware of something I was seeing. If I looked at the pod’s control picket that is made of glass, I could see the reflection of all the cells on death watch, and I turned my attention to #8 cell, which held Hasan. There he was, standing in the door with his light on. His light was on. Mine was off. I watched him for a few hours. He didn’t move once. Through the years I wondered what he was looking at. Was he soaking in his last hours of life as he looked out in the dark jungle of iron bars and steel gates? Trying to understand how he came to his final moments? Was he waiting and hoping for a miracle? Or was he wondering what was I doing standing in my cell’s door in the dark? Did he see me? Eventually, I went to lay down. I said a prayer for my friend and would get up to come to the door every so often only to see him still standing there.
Hasan left at 7:40 a.m. for his last few hours of visitation with his friend from Canada. I also was told that an aunt came to see him. He never came back.
When they pronounced him dead a little after 6:30 that evening, I cried, unconsciously holding the cheek he’d kissed. My friend was the epitome of change, strength, and courage. I will never forget that about him.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR. Charles “Chucky” Mamou is the first place winner of our most recent writing contest. Although a long-time writer for WITS, he rarely enters our contests. I’m glad he did. Mr. Mamou has always maintained his innocence, and after extensive research into his case, WITS actively advocates for him. If you would like to know more about his case and sign a letter requesting an investigation, please add your name to his petition.
Charles Mamou can be contacted at: Charles Mamou #999333 Polunsky Unit 12-CD-53 3872 South FM 350 Livingston, TX 77351
When my ex-wife sent me divorce papers, it was a hard day. I hadn’t seen or spoken to her in more than three years, and I was hurt she had broken her promise before God. But I came to understand… eventually. I was unable to free myself from this hell after nine years of marriage. I’m happy to have been touched by that woman, to have breathed that air. I can’t be mad.
Food, water and touch – I don’t care who you are, where you come from, or what your socio-economic status might be, those are vital to living. Time in prison is meant to deprive you of touch, being loved. It’s meant to cut others off from confirming your worth and value despite your faults.
I first started getting locked up when I was about twelve. Truancy was a crime that they put kids in a cage for. Back then it was my grandmother’s touch that mattered, her showing up to say, “That one over there? You can’t have him! I want him back!” Value. Worth was set.
I didn’t know what it was to condition someone back then, purgatory. It wasn’t until I had served three and a half years on twenty-three hour a day lockdown, one hour out per day, and found myself adapting that I panicked. I was a mess when I got out. I still have trouble being in large crowds. I had to go to Toastmasters to regain the confidence of speech. To this day, my reactions to conflict tend too violent at first blush. It’s hard to shake years of depression and the ‘you ain’t worth shit!’ mentality of ‘fuck it!’ after that much time of having no contact with anyone. I’ve gone up to ten years without family or friends, without touch.
I’ve lived most of my life on lockdown, over more than twenty years total. It’s done things to my mind and spirit, killed parts of me in an isolated cage, witnessed only by God and myself. Vital pieces of me the young man didn’t know that the old man would need, the two of us at war over what shape or form my soul, my person, would eventually be. Deprivation of touch is an old slavery tool, tried and true, meant to reshape the human spirit.
It’s a hell of a thing to question your worth because of conditions, situations and an environment designed to deprive you of an affirming touch. People are paid to make this happen?
I’m guilty, you say? I agree, I am. I’m also remorseful, grateful, humbled, able and flawed. I’m broken but not destroyed, and I’m worthy of more than judgment and fear. I’m so much more than guilty. I’m a man in need of a woman’s touch.
Many who are far more eloquent than I have written about the power of contact and connection, but I’ve been curled up on my bunk in tears for lack of her. That need has broken my heart in a hundred ways, as I call out to God for her touch, only to curse Him for not moving fast enough! I’ve had a thousand conversations designed to return love to her, only to hear myself speaking out loud to no one I’ve ever met or knew to be real, a conversation based on a freedom that may never be returned to me, that I may never recapture.
A product of this battle is an intense focus on myself to the exclusion of others, withdrawing into my own pain and rejection, knowing to touch or be touched by another comes at a great risk, much like a child punished for his love of candy bars to the point that he fears the glorious taste of chocolate. A man adrift in a sea, fearing the dry, sandy shore will not return his feet once they are covered.
Just as fear and desperation are the greatest of motivators, hope and desire are the coinage used to barter passage from the what was of yesterday to the dream board of tomorrow, and all you have to build on is the now – this moment of contact, of being touched.
I met her through a friend, by all accounts a beautiful soul, person and woman. Brave and courageous beyond believe, she flung herself forward with an open heart, one broken by some who were forever cutting the wheel in a game of chicken when she has always too much of a woman to bluff. Then, as such stories go, she’d blame herself for not being enough. It’s crazy the way the brave are willing to carry the faults of others as their own, despite the facts.
Loneliness? Depression? Sure, we’ve both seen those, but as long as I’m 100% the man in her life and she fills mine to the brim with her touch, we’ll change the quality of the air in this hell we find ourselves in.
Is it enough to simply survive the hardships of life? My world is a place of hot ash and fire, metal and concrete. The real danger for her is that I’ll never see freedom. She could spend the rest of her life sharing breath with a man she can never reach out to in the middle of the night. But do I be the man she needs in her life, tempt her, only to then reject her in the name of sparing her the ‘possibility’ of future pain? At the expense of her touch in my life? Is that a noble sacrifice or me fearing the sand won’t give my feet back?
Everything in life should be insurable! There are too few guarantees in this world. Identify who you like and need, and fight longer and harder than anyone else for who you must have. Give your all to see that someone grow and prosper, as they tend the same garden in your life. This is how you wed to someone, know and become known by someone. Shared contact. Touch.
Sharing dark moments of my life on paper gives someone else permission that was never needed to clench their fist or soften their hearts – or both. For some, its teeth and claws, for others, its writs and laws, maybe a business plan, but for yet others – it’s a helping hand to one not your kind, color or even your friend, because trouble is a promise and nobody gets it right every time.
ABOUT THE WRITER. DeLaine Jones has, once again, risen to the occasion. He his our second place writing contest winner. He is a great talent, and we are honored to be able to share his work here. As always – I look forward to hearing from him again.
Mr. Jones has served 32 years for a crime he committed when he was seventeen years old, a juvenile. He can be contacted at:
DeLaine Jones #7623482 82911 Beach Access Road Umatilla, OR 97882
