I am all right. Or am I?

I feel like a war vet about to be redeployed after acclimating to civilian life.

I was sentenced to 30 years to life as a 16-year-old child. And after a few days of being locked up, I was all right.

When I was sent thousands of miles away from my family in DC to a federal prison in thousands of miles away because the district doesn’t have its own prison, and thus they couldn’t visit, I was all right.

When I was subjected on several occasions to 23-and-1 stints (23 hours locked down and one hour out) in solitary confinement, or to stay in my cell for weeks/months at a time with only 10-minute showers every 72 hours, I was all right.

And sadly, when my grandmother died during my incarceration, I couldn’t even cry because I had to be all right.

I’m always all right because I have to be.

It’s the prisoner’s anthem. I’M ALL RIGHT! We are constantly telling ourselves we are all right, because it is this mantra that steels us against the pain and adversity we endure daily and to which we will continue to be for years to come. It’s a defense mechanism, our armor. We are ALL RIGHT!