I have been called young, dumb and uneducated.  I use those words to prove insults ignite my efflorescence.  I view my mind as a seed, so I water it daily.  There are not enough resources for incarcerated citizens to further their education.  It’s also not probable in the eyes of those who keep us that ‘criminals’ want to propel positively.  Most of them deem rotting in a cell as our final destination.  They see us as one-dimensional; our minds not liberal.  We aren’t fit to have wit.

Arriving to prison in my juvenescence, I had no major objective.  I was a die-hard, savage, gang-banging, jokester.  They say prison is not a joking matter.  I had to learn the hard way.  Prison is very similar to a Love and Hip Hop episode to me.  The facility I’m in consists of sex, drugs, drama and fighting that never ceases.  The grounds for saying this is, if you aren’t trying to change, the prison won’t make you.  The day I saw this for myself, I made a decision to educate myself.  It was a mental release from my physical shackles.  

The shake-off alone was a huge eye-opener for me.  I spent my entire adolescence playing Russian roulette.  I am 24 and in prison, so what did I do?  I got cracking on my road to edifying by reaching out to any and every organization whose mission was to help the incarcerated.  I expanded my library, replacing the entertainment with all self-help and educational books.  I began reading, studying and teaching myself the subjects from high-school that I didn’t pay attention to.  I buckled down on my purpose in life using the aversion as a flame.  I had to choose to elevate my means of brainpower, because I could not give my haters any satisfaction.

It seemed as though I was possessed by a supernatural determination.  I was radically looking toward my future.  The mere thought of returning to this depressing digression put my determination on one hundred percent.  The slight use of hostile insults from TDOC staff pushed me to follow my dreams.  The more I allocate my energy towards proficiency – the less energy the staff inhibits.

Every night when I sit on my bunk, I smile a proud, prodigious grin.  I am proud of my prospering cerebration.  All of the arrogant insults gave me inspiration to prove that prisoners are clever, resourceful and intelligent.  If it was not for my current circumstances, I wouldn’t have pushed my ability to learn and understand the importance of my own brain.  I truly appreciate the garbage that was tossed my way – it shocked my blossom in an awesome way.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR. Quineshia Townsel is only our second female writer, so I was excited before I even had a chance to read the submission. Of course, I was even happier once I read her piece. Education, books, reading, and access to things of those nature has, throughout history, been withheld, subtly or not so subtly, to keep people in a ‘box’. I am glad Quineshia sent this in, I’m glad she is inpired, and I hope she keeps writing and reaching. She can be contacted at:

Quineshia Townsel #597032
West Tennessee State Penitentiary
480 Green Chapel Road
P.O. Box 1150
Henning, TN 38041