The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n.
Can Razor Wire and Faith co-exist?
Is Jailhouse Religion for real, and can the hearts of the incarcerated actually change?
Today, I went to prison and got to witness one answer to that question. The imposing confinement of razor wire fencing and the decisive clang of iron gates never let me forget for a moment where I was. This was an all-male, maximum security penitentiary. The Darrington Unit in Rosharon, Texas.
After foraging through my closet at home for the requisite anti-feminine attire, and after reassuring myself (over and over) that I would not be thought of by the prisoners as a woman (preferably not thought of at all), I drove to Rosharon, relinquished my driver’s license to the prison guards, and surrendered myself to a routine pat-down.
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