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Illustration by James Bonilla; photography courtesy of Unsplash.

I was reading a novel early one evening in July, when I heard someone down the tier yell, “They tried to kill Trump!” His voice was full of anger, reverberating through the building.

I turned on my TV to see nearly a dozen Secret Service agents swarming the former president, whose right ear oozed blood. 

Just then, a distant voice cackled and yelled in return, “Next time, they’ll get ‘im!”

In the days that followed, the upcoming election dominated conversations. Politics fosters division even within shared ethnicities, cultures or other backgrounds. 

On my way to my job in the education department, two guys walked several feet ahead of me.

“He’s sure to win now,” one said to the other.

“Yeah, he’s like a martyr.”

In the following weeks, a different narrative emerged as President Joe Biden pulled out of the presidential race and endorsed Vice President Kamala Harris. 

“Can you believe it? We can have our first female president,” a guy at my table in the dining hall said.

“Isn’t she the one that opposed our appeals?” said another. 

According to California law, incarcerated citizens aren’t allowed to vote. But to most inmates, that doesn’t matter. Even if they can’t cast a vote, they participate by rooting for a candidate to win. Siding with a candidate allows incarcerated people to join the competition vicariously — my team vs. yours, good vs evil, left vs. right. 

When Hulk Hogan shredded his shirt in front of a packed arena in Wisconsin, stirring the crowd into a hysteric frenzy, one side felt like they had gained a lead. 

In Illinois, Lil Jon hyped the audience with crunk music. The other side celebrated as they came storming back. 

Just like on the outside, many factors can sway a person one way or the other: foreign policy, national budget plans, skin tone, gender, even celebrity endorsements.

When the campaigning is over, and one candidate eventually emerges victorious, voters will either celebrate or sulk, depending on which side they were on. In prison, where any victory is sparse, they’ll take what they can even if they didn’t directly impact the result.

Four years from now, the process will start over, offering another opportunity for competition.

Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.

Ramelle Kamack writes from California. His writing has appeared in the Columbia University Exchange.