What the World Gets Wrong About Us

 

-by Ryan

When people hear the word “inmate,” they think they know me already. They think we are all the same—violent, heartless, lost causes.

Let me set the record straight real quick:

"We’re All Violent."                                                                                                             The news loves showing riots and fights. What they don’t show is the real majority: Men teaching GED classes. Writing music. Drawing, reading, learning, just trying to stay human in a place that tries to strip that from you.

"We Don’t Care About Family."

I hear it all the time—

“If you loved your family, you wouldn’t have ended up in there.”

That’s straight-up bullshit. I’ve seen grown men cry in their bunks over a missed birthday, a letter that never showed up, a death in the family they couldn’t be there for. Hell, I'm one of them!

You don’t know real guilt until you sit in a cell alone at night realizing you hurt the people you love most.

And I’ll be honest—All I care about now is having just that. A real family. My people. But because of my mistakes, a lot of them walked away. Harsh words. Cold silence. People who said they loved me once but clearly show they don’t anymore.

That used to eat me alive.

But now, I’m a married man. I’m building my own family with my wife. And it hit me: The ones that forgot me don’t matter anymore.

I’m finally learning to heal from that. Because I ain’t here to chase people who let me go. I’m here to hold tight to the ones still holding me down.

"We Can’t Change."

I get it. I’ve been back in this system more times than I care to count. I own that. But don’t get it twisted. This is my last bid. I stand ten toes down on that.

Not everybody in here is content to rot. Some of us are fighting like hell not to. Reading. Learning. Growing. Trying to walk out different than we walked in.

For me? I finally have a life worth coming home to. And staying home with.

I’ve got a reason now. And I won’t trade that for nothing—not another cell, not another high, not another dumb-ass choice.

"Our Wives or Girlfriends Are Stupid for Loving Us."

Let me say this plain: Loving someone in prison ain’t weakness. It’s strength.

It takes a strong woman to ride this bid with a man like me. My wife ain’t stupid. She’s loyal. And loyalty’s rarer than diamonds in this world.

You especially don’t get to judge her or speak on her for sharing MY truth through this walk of life. For blogging. For advocating. For speaking up when I can’t.

I’ll back that woman 888% to the grave.

Nobody will ever judge her in my presence. Nobody will ever shame her for standing beside me when others walked away.

That’s my wife. That’s my peace. That’s my home.

So the next time somebody wants to throw labels at us—“Criminal.” “Lost cause.” “Prison wife.” “Foolish.”

Tell them: We don’t live for their approval. We live for each other.