Welcome back to the very last issue of the year. We are so proud to continue the amazing legacy of David Inocenio as The Beat goes on! Thank you to everyone for help and support as we all contribute to The Beat Within community. Thank you also to the team of student interns from Urban High School of San Francisco, that have helped us over the last few months to process writing so that we can meet editing deadlines and deliver you another issue of amazing voices! This group of student interns has completed their service hours, and they have all taken additional time to write a reflection on their personal experience with The Beat Within.
Starting at The Beat Within, I didn’t know what to expect. I knew I would be transcribing the writings of incarcerated teens in the Bay Area, but that was the extent of my knowledge. The first writing I transcribed was from San Quentin on “The Power of Choice”. The writer P. Hernandez stated that when a detective told him that he had had a choice to commit murder, that was the “first time in my life I heard I had a choice and it left me dumbfounded, I couldn’t quite grasp what he had told me.”
This immediately shifted my entire perspective. Previously, I had thought of prison as a result of one’s choices, amid the systematic injustices such as racism and homophobia. Not completely the convicted person’s fault, but still an ending that was within their control. I even knew the statistics: there was a thirty percent chance that a child with incarcerated parents would also become incarcerated. Indicating a flaw in the system, instead of a personal choice by teens who became incarcerated.
Yet this writing was the first time I had heard, directly from the voice of an incarcerated teen, just how little choice they had. The fact that he “couldn’t quite grasp” that he had a choice in life demonstrates a complete lack of regard by the United States in general for the wellbeing of teenagers, not even just the criminal justice system.
Although being incarcerated seemed initially to me like something objectively bad, there was a surprisingly wide variety of perspectives within the writings I transcribed. One writer, Lil DJ, wrote “It’s probably safer to be in here though because there’s a lesser chance of me dying.”
The idea that prison could be a somewhat positive thing for the sole reason that it could keep someone alive was a reality check for me. I realized that in my life, death is a background thought but not necessarily something that I fight against day to day. If I had the thought of the death of myself, my family, and my friends constantly in my mind, I would also probably feel a lack of choice.
However, a majority of the writings detailed how much they missed the outside world, displaying every emotion from hate to quiet desperation. In response to the prompt “Something Amazing”, Sergio wrote “I ate food that I haven’t tried in a long while. In and Out, double double Dr. Pepper. I miss my freedom!”
The description of everyday food that he missed was such a relatable sentence that the reminder of “I miss my freedom!” Seemed out of place, despite the fact that I knew he was incarcerated. The writing that was most relatable to me was in the second to last transcriptions I completed.
Two people who I assume were friends both learned how to crochet, and each wrote about how it helped the boredom of being incarcerated. One wrote “I’m hoping I could make other things later on and be able to give them to my little sister and little gifts for those I care about.”
I love crocheting, and this stood out to me because I had that exact same thought when learning to crochet. This reinforced the idea that if I had grown up in a different context, our positions could be reversed and I could be the one writing, hoping my voice will be heard and recorded.
This was the most important lesson I learned while working with The Beat Within: I am lucky to have grown up with the opportunities to make choices for myself, but that’s all it is; luck. The system is flawed, not individual people, and we’re all a lot more similar than we think.
-Stella
Reflection
When I started transcribing for The Beat Within, I thought my job was straightforward: type what was on the page. I imagined it would be mostly mechanical, something done quietly in the background. But the longer I spent with these pieces, the more I realized that transcription is its own kind of listening. It asks you to slow down, pay attention, and carry someone else’s words with care.
At first, I was focused on accuracy; punctuation, spelling, making sure I could read the handwriting. But soon I began noticing rhythm. Some writers moved fast, their sentences spilling out in bursts; others wrote slowly, with long pauses or repeated words that seemed to hold weight. I started to hear their voices through the way they wrote. Typing began to feel less like data entry and more like a quiet form of conversation.
One of the pieces I typed from a writer named Birdy in San Diego included the line, “My voice is your voice. Your voice is my voice.” This simple idea, that being heard connects us, feels like the heart of The Beat Within. For many of the writers, this space might be the only place where their voices can exist freely. Seeing how much that mattered made me rethink what listening actually means.
I’ve always thought of writing as expression, but here I saw it as something more like survival. Over and over, people wrote about wanting to be free, not just physically but mentally and emotionally too. A few talked about learning patience, staying optimistic, or rebuilding family relationships. Others wrote about loss, addiction, or regret. Each voice sounded different, but all of them were reaching for some kind of control over their own story. Writing was a way to reclaim that.
One of the hardest but most meaningful parts of the job was learning not to change anything. It’s natural to want to smooth out a sentence or fix a typo, but doing that would have erased something essential. The way someone phrases an idea, the slang, the grammar, the rhythm, is part of who they are. Leaving the words as they were felt like a form of respect.
Some entries were deeply painful to read; others were funny, hopeful, or unexpectedly gentle. A few writers described years spent in the streets or the experience of being far from family, but there were also moments of quiet optimism—small goals, like finishing school, staying sober, or just becoming a better person. Those details grounded the work in reality. They reminded me that even inside a system designed to dehumanize, there’s still creativity, humor, and hope.
What surprised me most was how familiar so many of the feelings were. Even though our lives are different, I recognized pieces of myself in what they wrote; the need to be understood, the frustration of feeling powerless, or the hope that things can change. It reminded me how thin the line is between confinement and freedom, and how both depend on being seen.
This work taught me that empathy isn’t always about giving advice or reacting right away. Sometimes it’s about staying still long enough to understand. Transcribing made me realize how rare that kind of listening is in everyday life, the kind that doesn’t interrupt, judge, or correct. It makes me want to listen better, not just on the page but in general.
When I think back on the time I spent with these writings, I don’t remember the number of pages or the hours. I remember small moments: pausing mid-sentence to imagine the person behind the words, noticing where someone’s tone softened or hardened, feeling a connection that existed only through language.
I began this work thinking I’d be typing. What I ended up doing was listening; quietly, closely, and with more respect than I’d expected to learn from a keyboard.
-Miriam
Thank you, Stella and Miriam, we appreciate all your time and effort in typing and editing to help The Beat Within meet weekly deadlines. Thank you also for sharing your personal reflections on your experience with the writing submissions. We are so glad to know that you found commonality with our community, and you were able to witness your own growth along the way. Thank you again for supporting the writers of The Beat Within.