At the beginning of February, Prison Journalism Project editors sent a handful of questions to a few of our longtime Black contributors. 

We’ve published stories and packages in the past to commemorate Black History Month, but this time we took a different approach. 

We set out to learn more about what made our writers fall in love with writing and what Black artists and art have inspired them. 

As you’ll read below, this group of journalists was driven to write by reading bad writing, taking creative writing classes in prison, or encountering journalism that covered government failings. Artistically, their influences range from sci-fi novels to Pulitzer Prize-winning historical fiction to 1990s R&B. 

We appreciate you taking the time to get to know a few of PJP’s stalwart contributors. 

— Wyatt Stayner, deputy editor

What got me started writing was reading a novel I hated. I forget the name, but it didn’t have any contractions in the dialogue. That rigid standardization of grammar never let me immerse myself in the story. Instead, it convinced me, “Shit, I can write a better story than this.” This took place the same day I got off the bus at State Correctional Institution Huntingdon in 1997. 

I can’t rightly say Black history motivates me in my writing, but knowing that history surely helps strengthen my resolve in telling the stories I want. 

Right now, my facility does not celebrate Black History Month. Prior to the COVID-19 pandemic, however, there were information packets about Black history available from the activities or education departments. The lifers organization in this prison also had Black entertainers come in to celebrate. Now recognition only comes from what we seek out for ourselves. 

Virtually every writer whose words I’ve ever read has taught me something. I’ve been an avid reader my entire life. Naming one book as a favorite is impossible, but there are two by Black authors that are strong standouts for me: “The Known World” by Edward P. Jones and “How Long ’til Black Future Month?” by N.K. Jemison. “Sinners,” which recently broke the record for Academy Award nominations and was written and directed by Ryan Coogler, is one of my favorite movies right now. 

I find enjoyment in a wide variety of music, especially hard rock and heavy metal, but two of my most favorite songs by Black artists are “Mother Blues” by Sharon Lewis & Texas Fire and “Directly from My Heart To You” by The Mothers of Invention with Richard Wayne Penniman (aka Little Richard) on vocals. 

These books, movies and music are transportive. They take me somewhere other than where I am, whether it be a different time or place or state of mind.

I have no expectations for the kinds of stories I hope to cover in the future, only that I’m up to the challenge of covering them.

— Vaughn Wright, Pennsylvania

I used to sit in drug houses, waiting to get high. Prison was a place of no escape until Prison Journalism Project offered me a way to grow beyond the fences and walls.

I realized I wanted to be a writer when PJP published my first piece. It was poetry, which they no longer publish, but they saw potential and encouraged me to write about life in prison from an inside perspective. 

People in prison are often not seen as contributing members of society. So I wanted to write about the realities of how we change and that we feel remorse for the harm we have caused. I live to give honor to those I hurt, and the shame I caused my family. 

As a journalist, I wouldn’t say that Black History Month directly influences what I write. But my position as a Black man in prison guides what I write. Growing older and serving a life sentence makes me feel like I need to write to help others and show them there is potential to change. I want to give them hope.

Beyond themed essay contests, the prison does nothing concerning BHM.

Several books related to Black history that are among my favorites include: “African American Poetry: 250 Years of Struggle & Song,” edited by Kevin Young; “NJIA: The Afrikan Way of Our People,” by Halisi Uhuru, and “Can’t Hurt Me,” by David Goggins. 

I was not raised in an environment with strong Black cultural ties. These books have given me a glimpse into lives I had little familiarity with. In my past, I grasped only one side of who I was or should be. Today I am able to understand the history I come from more clearly, and see that racism has not necessarily changed much, even if it is portrayed as if we are better off. 

As a journalist, the main issue I would like to cover is abolishing death-by-incarceration  sentences such as life without parole. That’s because I believe redemption is possible.

— Jeffery Shockley, Pennsylvania

I always knew I could write. Whenever I would read a book, I would say to myself, “I can write one of these.” But I didn’t have the courage to write because I was an eighth grade dropout, and who would want to read what I had to say?

I’m influenced by many Black revolutionaries. But when it comes to history, Chancellor Williams’ book “The Destruction of Black Civilization” has shown me that it has always been a struggle to preserve Black history.

I grew up in the streets. So I try to keep it street. I mean, I want the people who grew up like me to understand me. In this way I’m influenced by Malcolm X. He was an intellectual, but he was from the streets.

One of my favorite songs is “U Will Know” by B.M.U. (Black Men United), from the “Jason’s Lyric” soundtrack. The song is a soulful melody. It speaks about dreams not being easy to achieve, sticking to the plan and fighting hard. I play the song on repeat when I need a reminder that life ain’t over and to keep fighting.

In my work, I really hope to cover freedom. I want to write about experiencing freedom again with all the sounds, smells and sights. 

— Kory McClary, New Jersey

I discovered the power of a pen through creative writing classes in prison. The facilitator, Michelle Tarter, helped me rediscover my voice.

My case was high-profile and covered in newspapers. But whenever I came across these articles, I didn’t see myself in them. Because of that, I write from a place of authenticity as I tell the stories of others. In 2024, I wrote about motherhood, and revisited my own conviction in a deeper manner than the media who covered my case.

As a journalist, Black history does influence my writing. Throughout history, women — especially Black women — have been plagued by injustices. I write to bring attention to that fact and to make a difference.

— Lucretia Stone, New Jersey

I realized I wanted to be a writer about seven years ago. The story that inspired me was in an old issue of Time magazine. It was a story about when the levies broke during Hurricane Katrina and flooded New Orleans. I remember it was accompanied by a photo of a man floating in the floorwaters under a bridge.

My favorite song, “Tie My Hands,” a collaboration between Lil Wayne and Robin Thicke, is also about the flooding in New Orleans. When I hear this song, I feel like I can overcome adversity. 

The song’s criticism of the government’s handling of Hurricane Katrina has made me see the world in a different way. 

In the future, I would like to cover the issue of racism. I would also like to write about America’s current political climate. 

— Khaȧliq Shakur, Texas

One of my favorite songs is “Touch the Hem of His Garment,” by Sam Cooke and the Soul Stirrers. This song means so much to me because it tells a story of resilience and faith from the Bible through the dynamic sound of Black gospel music. 

The song is based on a biblical story about a woman who had a bleeding problem for 12 years. She had spent all her money trying to fix it, but doctors couldn’t stop the bleeding. Because of her disorder, people considered her unclean and an outcast. Then, on a whim of faith, she touches Jesus’ robe and is healed — “made whole,” as Cooke sings it.

This song reminds me of my childhood. I remember older Black people singing it, then testifying that they wished to touch the hem of Jesus’ garment during segregation when they were sick and denied access to care at white-only hospitals. For healing, they had to rely on Black hospitals, which were scarce and sometimes not properly equipped. Black gospel music was their other form of healing — spiritual healing. 

Cooke’s singing heals me; it helps me overcome my struggles and I, too, am made whole. Black history means so much to me. My personal experiences are strengthened through songs and stories like these.

Maybe others can listen to the song and feel what those people felt — that music carried them. 

— Da’Shae Breeze, Missouri