To our readers and writers far and wide, greetings from The Beat Within! The weather outside may be frightful, but the writing of this latest issue is oh-so-delightful. As you’ll see, it’s our pleasure to showcase a range of writing dedicated to extending gratitude to ourselves and to each other – writing that honors how we came to be here, what we’re working towards, and the people and places we take with us along the way.
Joining us in our editorial section are two interns we hosted this fall from Urban High School of San Francisco, Vaani and Leili. Vaani writes about the empathy and understanding that emerged during her work with us, and the dominant stereotypes our writers challenge in each and every publication. Leili, who was studying abroad in London, developed a deep connection from abroad to the voices of our writers, and to her own voice as an editor and responder. We welcome the perspectives of Vaani and Leili to The Beat!
The Kind of Growth from Looking at Yourself
I didn’t know what to expect when I decided to volunteer with The Beat Within. I knew little about the incarceration system—just what I had been told by media stereotypes. I understood that there was something inherently flawed about it, from friends who knew more about the subject than I do, but I didn’t quite understand any of the details. Those were left for friends who knew what was going on, had statistics and facts to back them up. All I had was a half-formed opinion based on their opinions. And I’ll be blunt; I still don’t know much about the US prison system… but I now know much, much more about oppression.
How often does the average American think about the prison system? About people in juvenile halls? And when they do, what are they thinking? These were all questions I was suddenly put face-to-face with. I didn’t know what to expect when I started volunteering with The Beat Within. The very first thing I was struck by was how human the authors’ work was. The idea around incarcerated individuals is a dangerous one, a harmful one. Something that strips away any personhood someone has. That’s a powerful and cruel thing. And yet people in prisons are just… people.
People my age. People who could have been me — people who I could have been. People with families, lives, hopes, stories, stories. I’m a firm believer that everyone should get a chance to tell their story. I realized then, that first day, just how much my ignorance was also a tacit acceptance. That how mainstream media talks about incarceration is wrong on so many levels.
I came to understand this more through the few weeks I was volunteering here. The writing I was transcribing and editing was moving, eloquent, and engaging. I got to see little snapshots of people’s lives, Polaroid pictures with captions saying here, a cousin who they want the world for, here, a friend they respect more than anyone else, here, a sibling they strive to be like. A regret. A reflection. A dream. I read beautiful poetry, touching prose. I heard stories of love and guilt, hope and growth. The kind of growth that’s from sitting down and looking at yourself and promising that one day, it will be better.
There’s still so much I don’t know, so much I don’t understand yet. That’s alright. I’m working on it, and it’s not perfect, but when is anything perfect? All I can do is my best, and try to grow as much as some of the authors whose work has resonated with me so deeply, even if we’re living very different lives.
So, how often does the average American think about the prison system? Not enough. I certainly didn’t. But that’s changed now, and I’m forever grateful to The Beat for it. I thank you all for my experience here; it’s been more meaningful than I ever could have imagined, and, frankly, cool as hell.
Thanks, y’all. I mean it.
-Vaani, Urban High School of San Francisco
Connected with the Minds and Voices
I am currently at a semester away in London studying government and politics. Throughout this experience, I have had my perspectives and worldviews fundamentally challenged each day. Learning how to navigate conversations around the livelihood of real people within the context of policy-making and debate has been particularly difficult for me.
How do I center the human experience within these seemingly theoretical conversations? Incarceration is a dehumanizing and traumatic experience for those who serve time in our country’s facilities, made abundantly clear from both the state of our relentless criminal justice policy and the firsthand experiences of those forced to endure these conditions. Our system relies on the preservation of punishment over rehabilitation and healing of the root causes of offenses committed, such as lack of afterschool programs, school funding and involvement, socio-economic hardship, and unstable households.
The Beat Within has been my grounding force inside academic spaces which seem unfeeling and unempathetic toward the authentic experiences of people so similar to ourselves—the willingness to push aside our emotions and humanity for the sake of simplifying complex and deeply emotional issues.
Although I do not know the students whose journal entries I transcribe and edit, nor do they know who is writing their responses and well wishes, I have come to feel connected with the minds and voices of kids my age from more than five thousand miles away. Their work varies in tone and style, yet their message is consistent and clear: I am human. I am capable. I deserve dignity. One student finished his piece by declaring his positive outlook on his future as well as his readiness to “spread…[his]…wings and fly” into the next chapter of his life.
Writing responses have been the most challenging aspect of engaging with The Beat for me personally. I was unclear on what my role should be as a bystander to their stories and experiences. What would they want me to take away from their words? Part of me wanted to be a comfort to them, allow them to lean into the writing process by providing words of encouragement and understanding. As I read more and more pieces, I started to find my voice as an editor. The focus of my responses became shaped by the sentiments I had heard over and over from incarcerated youth in their entries:
We are human. We are capable. We deserve dignity.
-Leili, Urban High School of San Francisco
Thank you, Vaani and Leili, for your invaluable time and energy with us. You help to make this work possible, and we hope to stay in touch!
In the season of giving thanks, we extend enormous gratitude for how far we’ve come as a national publication, as an organization, and as a community. Thank you, readers and writers, for showing up day and day out to yourselves, to us, and to each other. The Beat Within exists because of you, and for you!