It is difficult to describe the overwhelming excitement of getting mail while incarcerated.
When I started this prison term, in 2015, I felt abandoned. I was sad and angry. Everyone I knew was on the other side of the fence. Most times, it is the incarcerated person who must make the first move to connect with the outside world. So, I decided to reach out.
At the time, I didn’t have any money to purchase envelopes. But through a Michigan Department of Corrections program, I secured a loan for commissary credit and 10 envelopes a month.
I sent out letter after letter. I wrote to pen pal programs, writing programs, art programs, programs that specialized in legal assistance. I would write to anyone I could find. In the beginning, I kept coming up empty-handed. But that did not stop me. I knew as long as people were alive, I could find someone. So I kept sending letters.
Eventually, I got my first letter back, from the Michigan Innocence Clinic, a clinic at the University of Michigan that works on cases of people who have been wrongfully convicted. They sent me a packet to fill out about my case. I started dreaming about what I would do when I got out. The Clinic was not able to take my case in the end, but finally receiving mail filled me with joy.
I started socializing with the outside world through letters. I figured that if I soaked myself in communication from the world, I would become a member. Knowing someone out there cares helps me accept where I am. Being able to express myself — and have someone else express themselves back to me — helps clear my mind of frustration.
Here in Michigan’s Macomb Correctional Facility, incoming letters first go to the mail room where they are photocopied by the prison mail staff — legal mail is copied in front of the receiver. After copying the letters, mail staff write the recipient’s name, number, housing unit and cell number on an envelope with a copy of the letter inside, as well as a copy of the sender’s return address. Then they send the processed mail to the unit where the guards sort it by cell number and pass it out.
Mail is only passed out on weekdays during the second shift, from 2 to 10 p.m. It usually comes around 8 p.m., but this depends on the day and the guard passing out the mail. When I am stuck in my cell, I look forward to mail pass. I am filled with anticipation, knowing I may get mail that day. If my cell is passed without mail, I know it will come someday soon.
When a letter slides under my cell door, with my name and inmate number on it, I smile until I fall asleep. The letters mean I am cared for. They represent the love that I deserve but likely won’t find inside these prison walls.
When I read these letters, I notice people on the outside don’t sound like people in prison. They tend to speak about good things. Their letters help me remember that life doesn’t have to be bad. Just a letter can be a good influence. These are the people I want to be like, and be around. Reading their letters is an escape. It reminds me that I am a member of society. I am who I choose to be.
I try to keep negative thoughts out of my mind, and mail helps with that. It gives me something to think about, plus something to do. That’s because I am always going to write back.
Sending out letters regularly seems like work. But to be rewarded with incoming mail is a blessing. I correspond with different programs for incarcerated people, and a wonderful pen pal who started writing to me in 2022. It’s like I work for the people I write to.
I send letters, poetry, essays, artwork and original music. I enjoy my work, and it enhances my skills. Through my correspondence, I have learned about things like yoga, origami and poetry. I’m proud of the poet I have become. An incoming letter itself is a blessing, but knowing the writer liked my work is even more rewarding.
Connection takes effort to maintain. Some of my peers don’t put as much effort into these relationships. But for me, there is no better feeling behind the walls of prison than winding down on a good, long day with mail from someone out there who’s on my side.
So, I will continue to write to the place I want to be: the outside world, where people are free and things are possible. For now, the letters I get take me there.