The material below was written by prisoners from Baltimore incarcerated in Maryland's penitentiaries. Some were written for classes I taught in prison, others from men I have worked with on the outside.

In America, 2.3 million people are incarcerated; that's one in 100 of us. When Dostoevsky wrote that "the degree of civilization in a society can be judged by entering its prisons" in The House of the Dead, he did not, I think, merely mean we could judge society by the conditions of prisons or whether prisoners' rights were upheld. He meant something more—that a measure of society could be taken by who was imprisoned and what the society really wanted incarceration to accomplish.

Prisoners writing always provides a window on what incarceration produces. Caleb Smith writes, in The Prison and the American Imagination, "The American prison has always been a monument of juridical humanity, even of human rights, resting on a foundation of violent dehumanization. The subjection of the inmate to a ritualized unmaking and remaking dramatizes the myth of the social contract in which the criminal law claims the power to mortify citizens in order to resurrect them."

Here are some voices of mortified citizens. Baltimore voices. All will get out one day.

An angelic being visited me while I was sleeping. I woke up feeling it was a dream. I stared at my ceiling thinking about what my subconscious mind was revealing. I was reeling off thoughts after thoughts. I thought I knew it all but then I thought … I only know what I’ve been taught. Though I sought the truth, I was lost in a labyrinth. Falsity was implanted on me since my youth, then twisted even more to look like the God’s honest truth. It wasn’t all in my head 'cause the angelic being was still there levitating by my bed. She was illuminating. I started gravitating towards her. She gently kissed me on the lips then whispered, “Know thyself.”

I asked her, “Who am I?” To my surprise, tears fell from her eyes. She then disappeared and walked over to my mirror. I was standing right here. She then reappeared. I thoroughly said, I know who I am! I am Dollar Bill. The slick walking, and slick talking, dude from East Baltimore. I’m standing strong and holding my own. I am a scared soldier with a chip on my shoulder. I am cold blooded to some and to others I am warm, gentle, and fun. And then the angelic being placed her index finger upon my lips, kissed me, and whispered, “Know thyself.” I yelled, “I know myself!” She looked and said, “Dig deeper and see what you don’t see in the mirror.” So, I laid in my bed and closed my eyes. I reflected and cleared my mind. It took some time, but I saw a light shining. The light was blinding. It was reminding me of who I was. Reminding me as reconnecting the true me with my mind. I was remembering. I was tapping into subconscious memories. I was seeing me with different faces, me in different places, me as different races. I haven’t placed my finger on it at first, but by tracing my past lives I see this mind and body is not I.

I discovered the light within this body, a treasure so divine. A treasure that can’t be defined because definitions place limits and this light is infinite with no limits. My light is here to reunite with other lights to illuminate this darkness. When my meditation was over with, I opened my eyes in noble silence. The Angelic being was smiling. She said, “When I kissed you I gave you a blessing, and now that you got the message, pass it on and never forget who you truly are. You are an illuminating light in the dark.”

To my family and loved ones I am known as “Tony," but on the violent streets of Baltimore, I’m known as “Black.” And then there is a person called “Face": a ruthless, one-man army. These are the three things that make me who I am.

"Tony" is the person who is loved by many of his family and friends. He goes out of his way to provide for his five children. He is involved with all activities that his children enjoy, such as playing video games, football, baseball—all the playful things that a child would want to do. The main thing that he is involved in is his children’s education—and that is what makes Tony who he is.

“Black" on the other hand is a hustler. He leaves the house every morning with money on his mind. His goal is to get paid by any means. For example, he ducks and dodges the police every day, risking his freedom. He also has to watch over his shoulder 24/7 for stick-up boys and snitches. He is both respected and feared by junkies and other corner boys. The only reality of Black’s situation is he only has two places he’ll end up, and that’s in a casket or in a jail cell.

Now “Face,” he’s a ruthless, cold-hearted motherfucker who doesn’t give a fuck about nothing or nobody. He’s a one-man army—you know, the type to shoot first, no questions asked. He waits in the shadows for you to cross the line or disrespect “Tony” or “Black.” His crime sprees date back to the age of 16. Face is a person you don’t want to meet under any circumstances.

These are the things that make me who I am. Tony, Black, and Face are separate indeed, but there is a flip-side to the whole thing. They do have one thing in common. They all had to deal with the consequences of Black’s lifestyle and now they all have a five-year sentence. They are me and I am them. They are who I am.

It was trouble from the start. I came into this world barely holding on. I had a severe case of asthma; it kept me in and out of hospitals for years. I held be bake from childhood activities such as football, basketball, and in the box. It doesn’t give me many problems now. I think I grew out of it.

Some of the things I think about could make a new world. If people would think like me, it would be a very better place to live in. For example, money makes the world go around and everyone knows that. I would give all people a start-up kit. This start-up kit would consist of free food and water, about $10,000 in cash, and also free housing for five years. The start-up kit would be given to when you reach the age of 14. I think this idea alone would change the way people live. I think with these benefits, violence would be cut in half. I feel like those benefits would give some kind of stability.

I feel if I had been given a start-up kit at the age of 14, it would have made me a better person. I would had felt some kind of security, something like a backbone other than my parents. I always felt loved by my parents, but they didn’t have the money we needed to feel stable. I loved my parents as much as possible, they raised me well. They kept me fed well, clothes on my back, and a roof over my head. I felt I needed more. I wanted those things my parents' money couldn’t buy.

I started to sell drugs to get those things like cars and houses. My mother started to ask questions, like where was the money coming from? I kept it real with her and told her that I was selling weed at the time. I got in too deep and began to sell crack and dope. My mother found drug paraphernalia in my room and asked what was I doing with it. I told her the truth. I was packaging coke and dope in them. I was told never to lie because in the end you will be caught in all lies.

People always say the things you do and say makes you who you are. I think like no other man or woman. For instance, look at the start-up kit. Who would really give everyone their very own start-up kit? Nobody in the government thought of it in all this time.

The government is letting most people struggle to the day of their demise. That is the way I look at things. This has been happening for so long without change. Keeping it real, I don’t think the government cares at all. But thinking this way, this makes me one of a kind.

The responsibilities of being a family man are being effective, righteous, wise, having a hand of leadership and guidance to serve the need of your family. You’re a “servant” to your family and that’s what I am.

I learned everything about being a family man from my mother. She showed me everything I know even though I hang in the streets and do dumb stuff. She still shows me right from wrong. My family means the world to me. I would kill, die, and do time for my family. I love being around my family. It seems like everything in my mind is good when I’m around my family. It’s like I have two worlds. One world is built on the streets, crime, and “gangbanging.” And the other one is my family world; it’s like when I’m around them I don’t think about none of that negative stuff.

I love when I was home and we would go down [to] South Carolina to my family reunion every second week of August every year. Anyway, I remember when I was about 13 and we had so much fun, we would go to South of the Border to see the big Mexican hat and we would go to Myrtle Beach. We do a lot of stuff like have cookouts, family feud, sing-alongs, and watch home movies of us when we were little. The family is really important to me because without family you’re nothing.

That’s the reason that I got locked up. I was in my street world and my little cousin was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was coming from school and my brothers were fighting some of the Crip dudes and one of them pulled out a .22 and shot two times and they didn’t hit their target. One of the bullets hit my little cousin in her stomach. When I found out about what had happened, I was so hurt I didn’t know what to do. One of my friend’s mothers told me that she didn’t make it. I lost it. Next thing you know I’m here. The funny thing about that story is she’s my cousin by marriage. It’s just that when you know and love somebody for so long you treat them like their your blood family no matter what.

I love kids. I don’t have none right now, but when I do I would never disown none of my kids. I don’t think I would be a good father. I know I would be the best father to my kids. Like I said at the beginning, everything I learned about being a family man is from my mother. My respect, guidance, leadership, wisdom, and my affection make me a family man. That’s why it’s….

I am a living survivor of the Baltimore neighborhood labeled East Vietnam. It is called that because of all of its war-like casualties. I have survived.

To come from such a place, a place with so much corruption and police injustice—to come from such a place should make me entitled to my forty acres and TWO mules.

Yet from all that surviving has come a shrewd, etiquette-oriented, articulate man. A man with a grudge against this unrevolutionary democracy.

It was the summer of 1995 and me [and] a few of my friends were having some fun. At this time in my life I was only around 14, so I was a little fella, but I had a big heart. Me and my friends went down to the Inner Harbor, just kicking it and chillin’ when along came another group of youngsters and we got into it. My friend was seriously hurt and I was also, but my loyalty to him would not let me leave. So I stayed and dealt with the situation and was a loyal comrade.

I am also very humorous and funny, always ready and willing to joke anybody. The other day me and the guys were back at the dorm cracking on each other. I was so proud of myself because once again I proved to myself and others that I am a good comedian. When cracking on each other I told one guy, “you’re black as shit and your breath stinks really bad.” The crowd laughed.

It has been four whole years since the love of my life—-my mother—-passed away. I must admit that we did have our ups and downs. But hands down, she was baby. Just looking back on some of the good times we had laughing and playing with each other. I remember on her last birthday I gave her some money and she was so proud of me that we hugged and kissed each other. I miss her so much. I wish she were here. I want to hold and kiss her so bad.
I love you so much Ma and I’ll never forget you.

The first thing that makes me who I am is being an abused child. Abuse from my mother as a child is the main reason I treat many women with disrespect. It has also made me not trust many I come in contact with. Being abused also lead me to self medicating myself with drugs and alcohol.

Drugs and alcohol are also a big part of who I am. From the age of 19, I’ve always used drugs and alcohol. Drugs and alcohol together have made me do some stupid things. For example, I’ve lied, stolen, hit my girlfriends and even killed someone while drunk and high. I regret ever using drugs and alcohol, but today I can say that I am a proud to be a sober individual.

Another thing that makes me who I am is being a careless person. I knew drinking and driving was wrong, but I cared less until I killed someone. I knew I should have been home with my family instead of cheating on my wife. I could have cared less and now I no longer have a family to go home to. I should have listened to my father and told him I loved him more often. Me being careless and him being gone, I don’t have that chance. A direct result of me being a careless person, has landed me right here in HELL, right here in prison.

In conclusion, being an abused child, a drug and alcohol user and a careless person are some bad characteristics that make me who I am. I have many good characteristics also, but I felt that the bad ones are the ones that make the most of me. Some people might see some things different but this is how I feel inside.