“Don’t Pretend to Care Now”

-by DeAnna

When a loved one gets locked up, the first reaction people have is rarely compassion. Oh no, it’s disappointment, judgment, and a whole lot of “We knew it,” “Told you so,” “They’ll never change,” and the ever-condescending, “Was he even worth it?” Trust me, I’ve heard them all. People love to throw their two cents into a life they’ll never understand.

But here’s the part that makes me laugh—time goes by, and suddenly the same people who couldn’t be bothered to show up when it mattered start snooping. They stalk my page, my posts, my blogs, pretending to care. Maybe they feel a little guilt. Maybe they’re just nosy. Either way, let me make this crystal clear: you didn’t care then, so don’t you dare pretend to care now.

Yes, people in prison are there for a reason. That’s no secret—they messed up. Big. They know it. I know it. Hell, the whole world knows it. But here’s what people seem to forget: being incarcerated doesn’t strip away someone’s humanity. It doesn’t make them less of a person than you. So why do so many of you act like it does?

People have this ridiculous idea that prison is “easy.”
You know, free food, three hots and a cot, no bills, no responsibility.

Let me break this down for the peanut gallery—REAL TALK:

Prison is getting “walked up on” by men daily because someone’s got beef and you better be ready to protect yourself every single time.

Prison is trying to choke down food that literally says “NOT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION” on the label, just to keep from feeling hungry and weak.

Prison is praying every single day that people on the outside don’t forget you, because the usual excuses are always, “I have a life too, you know,” or “I’ve got my own problems.”

Prison is crooked COs and inmates working with staff to set you up, just to keep you down and strip away every ounce of progress you’ve made.

Prison is watching your good time and programming depend on the moods of guards who wake up pissed off and decide your life will be hell today.

Prison is sleeping with one eye open and a weapon in reach, because at any second someone spiced out, high, or paid to take you out could come for you.

Prison is paying three times the price for commissary, hoping your stuff doesn’t get stolen.

Prison is watching photos of your loved ones get passed around like “currency” or worse, a damn sex object.

Prison is TORTURE.
And nowhere in ANY of that hell is the word rehabilitation.

So let me just say this:
If you can’t visit, can’t even take the time to set up a free video visit, can’t put a few bucks on the phone for a call, can’t buy a single stamp to send a letter, or you’d rather spend $6 a day on coffee than put $20 on their books so they can eat something decent—don’t you dare come at me acting like you care.

I know what it takes. I know what they go through. I know what matters—and I show up.

So don’t hand me your weak excuses about “having a life.”
Guess what? So do I. And I struggle every damn day to live it. But here’s the difference—I know where my priorities are. I know who my heart beats for. Part of my LIFE is HIM. And I’ll keep showing up when everyone else has turned their backs, because that’s what love and loyalty look like.