Redemption Should Not Require Silence

Redemption should not require silence. Too often, formerly incarcerated people are only celebrated when we tell the “right” kind of story: "I made a mistake. I paid my debt. I’ve changed. I’m giving back.

That story matters. But it’s not the whole truth.

I was criminalized not for an act alone — but for a condition. For living with HIV. For the fear and stigma that still exist in our laws and culture. And even now, years later, I carry the weight of that injustice — in housing, in work, in how people see me.

There’s pressure to stay quiet about the harm. To only share the polished version.But redemption shouldn't require silence.I shouldn't have to hide my story to be seen as worthy of freedom. 

I shouldn't have to "earn" dignity by erasing what happened to me.

I share this because HIV criminalization, mass incarceration, and respectability politics are all connected. If we want real justice, we need to hear the whole truth — not just the stories that make people comfortable.

Let’s stop sorting people into “deserving” and “undeserving.” Everyone deserves dignity. No conditions.

When I was first released, I found that I was sugarcoating my experience. I felt uneasy about this because I was making it seem like incarceration was easy. Which isn’t true. I believed this had to be the narrative until my work in HIV decriminalization taught me that telling the truth and saying it out loud — even when it was uncomfortable — was the only way to create change and take accountability in my life.

The truth is that redemption should not require silence. If we are tasked with acknowledging the harms we have done, we should also be called to speak on the struggles we have experienced.

It took 17 years to get to this point where I could tell stories and edit them so that they serve people who are experiencing incarceration. That’s the 15 years that I served plus the two years since I’ve been released. That time is longer than the years I spent in high school and college combined. In that sense, I have a PhD worth of experience in navigating the incarceration system. And I’m doing something with that time to help other people who are in similar circumstances and who are serving even longer sentences.

I’m not special in that regard. Anyone who has been incarcerated can do the same if they process their experience and work to make something out of it. In reading this edition of Turn It Up!, I hope you look at my journey and start to develop a guide for transforming your future, whether that is during your time on the inside or outside. 

It can be a frustrating, scary, and exhausting experience. But I believe it is worth it. As my managing editor Juan Michael puts it,“Water the flowers instead of the weeds. Focus on the things that serve instead of giving into misery. And remember that a weed is just the name of a plant that we haven’t figured out how to use. Instead of throwing it away, we can cultivate it on its own special plot of land and make something of it.”

Someone once tried to treat me like a weed. With Turn It Up!, I’ve cultivated an entire garden for our community.