I was taught from a young age, just like many American boys, that men don’t cry. I’m not in any way saying my parents raised me wrong, but I deal with emotions like many other American men - I bottle them up.
The night that followed my trip to the boy’s prison, I cried, and then I cried some more. I wept in a way I haven’t wept in a very long time. I cried at the position these boys were in, the hopelessness of the situation, how their entire life is altered. Forever. I cried because if I had been born into poverty, I could have faced a situation that some of these young men faced, made a similar decision, and ended up in a boys prison at age 14.
This could have been me.
I have an 11 year old son. He’s a good kid, but he’s done things that are, well, regrettable. Just like every other kid. I could not help but picture him when I was at the prison. I don’t know the kid's ages, but some were young. Probably 12 or 13 years old.
The boys are locked up for various reasons, I don’t know what each one did, I didn’t care.
I saw children. I saw my son. In a green jump suit with CERMICOL on his back. Hopeless.
Now, I’m far from saying that these boys should not be held responsible. But to see a kid that has been locked up for a crime, and find out some go 2 years before they ever see a judge, that’s heartbreaking. Some of them committed crimes, some terrible crimes, stuff we spoiled Americans only see in TV shows. They do not need to be told that’s ok. They need tough love. They need to be educated. And they need hope.