Many people recall their adolescence with fondness. I try to forget mine. In 2015, weeks after I turned 14, a judge sentenced me to 35 years to life in an adult prison.

While my peers were going to prom, I was learning how to survive in a maximum security facility. Most of the time, I was confined to a cell by myself, struggling with thoughts of suicide.

Each year in the United States, thousands of kids under the age of 18 are charged as adults and sentenced to adult jails and prisons. There has been a dramatic 80% decline in juvenile sentencing over the last two decades. But every single state in the country still has the ability to charge youth in adult court. While eligible ages and offenses vary, all states that incarcerate kids in adult environments expose them to potentially deadly consequences.

Pennsylvania, where I’m incarcerated, is one of 13 states with no minimum age for trying people as adults. The Commonwealth has historically led the nation in the number of incarcerated people serving life-without-parole sentences for crimes committed in their youth. 

My conviction stemmed from my involvement in my mother’s murder. She was killed by my abusive ex-boyfriend, who was 20 at the time (I was 13). After my arrest, I was unable to understand my responsibility in this horrific crime, and I struggled with feelings of confusion, guilt and self-hatred. Being isolated in an adult prison exacerbated my already deteriorating mental health. Instead of being rehabilitated, I got worse. 

Decades of research reveal the ineffectiveness of policies that treat youth as adults. While these laws were meant to reduce crime, research shows kids tried in the adult system actually have higher recidivism rates than those whose cases remain in the juvenile system. But the practice is not only ineffective, it is psychologically harmful. 

As early as 1978, data showed how dangerous adult facilities were for minors. Back then, kids were 36 times more likely to die by suicide in an adult prison than in a juvenile facility. A study from 2023, which followed youth for 22 years, found that people who had been incarcerated in adult facilities before age 18 were 33% more likely to die before reaching age 39 compared to young people outside the criminal justice system. Incarceration in a juvenile facility, however, did not increase the likelihood of dying young.

I know firsthand how dangerous isolation is for young people. I was confined under these conditions from ages 14 to 18. Even the simple adolescent act of making friends was impossible. I only had an hour each day to interact with peers my age, who were detained alongside me on the youth offender wing of the prison.

I interacted with adults, too, but never directly — and always under the watchful gaze of a prison guard. Youth offenders were prevented from talking to or looking at the adult offenders.

The experience was bizarre and deeply depersonalizing. I was denied freedom of physical movement, the ability to speak without fear of retribution, and the joy of meaningful interactions with other people. Add to that the endless hours alone in my cell, and I essentially spent four years in solitary confinement. 

Of course, I also hadn’t been doing well before prison. I struggled with mental health and an abusive relationship. But once inside, I had no means to process my trauma. There were no therapists or counselors available to help me understand and heal from my devastating decisions. Adult prisons aren’t equipped to offer incarcerated kids the mental health care they desperately need.

The guilt and self-hatred I carried was all-consuming. I was so depressed I was unable to eat or bathe myself for weeks at a time. When I wasn’t sleeping, I was ruminating, trying to figure out how I could end the nightmare my life had become. 

I will never forget how the prison responded to my desperate cries for help. I was placed under psychiatric observation, in which the few comforts I had were stripped from me. I had no reading materials, mail, phone calls, TV or clothing — I was given only a smock to wear. All I could do was lay on a hard plastic bed and think about how I had ruined so many lives, including my own. 

Without help or guidance from caring adults, I started to engage in self-harm, developed an eating disorder and attempted suicide multiple times. 

Even after my suicide attempts, the only psychological care I was offered were increased doses of psychiatric medications. I became a zombie. I couldn’t think coherently or sustain focus for more than a couple minutes at a time. 

I still remember the pungent smell of my own unwashed body. I remember waking up only to receive medications and finger foods because I wasn’t permitted to use utensils. I had no appetite for certain foods. I made myself vomit and hid it beneath the suicide-proof blanket I was issued, attempting to conceal it from the cameras that watched me 24/7.

We need to address the factors that contribute to youth committing crime: mental illness, abuse, poverty and a lack of positive community support. We need some mechanism to deal with minors who commit violent acts. Detention isn’t the answer. We should be nurturing and empowering while addressing the root causes of their trauma. 

Almost all of the youth sentenced to adult prison will be released one day. To keep our communities safe and prevent recidivism, we must ensure kids leave prison in better shape than when they entered. Like other states that have ended the practice of charging minors as adults, Pennsylvania could give kids the opportunity to change and grow in an environment that is designed for them. 

Lawmakers in Pennsylvania can and should prevent other younger people from experiencing the harms that I did. With the right legislation, we could eliminate the practice of automatically charging kids as adults and narrow the criteria for transfer from juvenile court to adult court. 

When young people are responsible for causing irreparable harm, the answer is not to harm them in response. They need to be held accountable for their decisions. But this accountability should change them for the better — not damage them further. 

I managed to survive my first traumatic years in prison. When I was 16, a prison psychologist began offering me therapy sessions two days a week — something he was not required to do. I also developed an incredible outside support system of family, friends, mentors and community members.

They saved my life, and helped me develop into the person I am now: a published poet and writer, an activist, a college student, a dog trainer, a fitness lover and a guitar player. But I didn’t come out unscathed.

I still have to take medication for post-traumatic stress disorder, depression and anxiety. Large crowds and sudden, unexpected changes are enough to induce crippling panic attacks. Despite the years I’ve put into healing, an errant scent or image can cause me to regress into a scared 14-year-old girl. 

It’s impossible for me to change the consequences of the decisions I made as a kid, but it’s not too late to set other struggling young people on a positive trajectory. As a society, we are responsible for the development of our youth. If we provided them the care they deserve early, we wouldn’t even have to think about putting kids in cages.