In case you’ve been wondering where all the posts are, it’s because I haven’t been writing as much. Not because I’m out of topics to write about, but because I finally have a life outside of a locked cell. Yes, prison is still always prison, but the way a person “bids” ends up changing with every new place he goes. My bid is now full of other people. As someone who is a social creature, this has brought me much sorely lacked joy.

The diversity of prison is my favorite part of being in here. I genuinely enjoy meeting people I would never otherwise get to know on the outside. Where else would I learn about the Muslim faith from a black man? Where else would I meet people who started cooking crack at eleven years old just to survive and take care of their siblings while their parents walked the streets addicted to the same drug? Listening to other people’s stories, beliefs, and opinions after a year of being locked in a cell with one other person for months on end feels like I’ve been handed an entirely new life.

I think the greatest compliment I receive here isn’t always meant to be a compliment. I’m constantly told that I “just don’t belong here.” Not that I haven’t committed a crime and am guilty of said crime, but that my thought process and what I believe in simply don’t fit the prison mold. Prison is about separation with divides in race, religion, gang association, sexual preference, crime committed, city of origin, and countless other factors. I honestly don’t care about any of that. I see people for who they are to me. I don’t believe in one true God or the supremacy of a particular group of people, and this has led some of the guys I talk to most to ask the question, “Well, what do you believe?” So this is what I’m going to write about. What do I believe in?

I grew up in a Christian home. Frankly, I consider the church I grew up in to be a cult. The religious guilt I experienced into adulthood was debilitating. That said, I don’t hate the Christian faith or the people who practice its many forms—much of my basic moral compass came from Christianity’s fundamental teachings. What I don’t like is the unavoidable judgmental thinking that comes along with religious fervor. I believe that a majority of people, especially in prison, only claim faith to avoid punishment. What a great selling point for a religion: “Just say that you’re sorry before you die, and you won’t spend eternity in a lake of fire.” Brilliant, isn’t it? I know some people will read this and be offended, and I honestly understand that response more than people who meet me now realize. I understand it because I lived it. I believed it as wholeheartedly as anyone else I’ve met. All the discussions I have with people about the Christian faith are ones I have been firmly on the other side of in the past. What’s different for me now is that I no longer believe in the Bible’s—nor any other religion’s—purportedly omniscient and omnipotent god figure. I can’t be certain that I’m right because, as human beings, we can’t be certain. Not knowing is actually what faith hinges on: you have to believe without knowing. That’s what having faith means—having trust, having confidence. But you can’t ever know for sure. This is a fact most religiously active individuals are incapable of admitting.

Being on the atheist side of agnostic is more complicated than it seems. Religion is simple; there’s a book to follow. For those on my path, we get to make all of our own beliefs based on our own life experiences and what we see as truth. There are many examples of humans who have taken similar basic beliefs as mine and turned into the worst people on earth. Without a god to follow, a lot of people completely lose purpose. If there is no heaven or hell, then what’s the point? We can just do whatever we want and fuck it right? I don’t believe that. I do believe in doing right and having a purpose even if there is no afterlife. As a basic guideline, I see “doing right” as anything that helps the world become a better place and move toward a vision of perfection whereas “doing wrong” is anything that goes against that ideal.

I believe in positive energy being a force for what we consider good, so it follows that negative energy is a bad thing for our world. I try my best to put good energy into the world every moment of the day because I genuinely care about the lives of other people. Why should I care about other people if it’s all survival of the fittest anyway? Because I believe in feeling. Our nature is to feel emotions. I feel for other people and their suffering. I listen to a black man tell me about growing up in an environment I am as incapable of understanding as he is of mine. I hear his words and take them at face value without adding my own preconceived notions. What I hear is struggle, and I understand struggle because I have struggled. I feel empathy toward another human being because I understand the base emotions. I know that, as a white male, I have enjoyed being the “normal” in a society that unconsciously celebrates normalcy while claiming diversity. In here the tables are turned. I am the minority. I get to experience a small portion of the struggle, and it helps me learn. 

I also believe in staying true to who I am and what I believe no matter what the circumstance is. In here, being a homosexual is despised. Case in point: the simple act of having conversations with my cellmate, who is gay, made me the target of all kinds of accusations when I got here. I was told by my fellow white boys that I needed to stop hanging out with the punks because it looked bad. My response to them was simple: on the outside I have worked next to, laughed with, lived with, become close friends with, and cared about many people whose sexual preferences differ from mine. I am not coming to prison and changing who I have always been. It is incredible to me how people of different religious faiths can all agree on one thing, namely that homosexuality is the worst sin of all, even though none of their books actually say that. I am white because I was born that way. I am straight because I was born that way. It amazes me how many people claim to understand struggle from a race or religious perspective, yet seem incapable of understanding the struggle of someone whose sexual desires are not deemed “normal” in our society. I believe in helping people get through their struggles by supporting who they are, not forcing them to change. I believe life is hard enough without other people judging us for anything we were at birth. 

I believe in myself. I think this is the most important thing I’ve learned in prison. I believe that I’m on this earth to make it a better place. I believe I’m capable of fulfilling a purpose and leaving a legacy on this earth that shows love and a life lived to benefit all of humanity. I believe I can and will accomplish so many positive things in this world without needing an invisible man in the sky to give credit to. I will accomplish things with my own hard work, mind, creativity, and resiliency. I believe that, through a community of people who love this earth and the people in it, we can create an environment of inclusion and acceptance that transcends the confines of religion and brings positive energy to this world. We can change this place. We can make it so much better.