Found myself really emotional today. Today should be a happy day, my dad has to work but I get to spend time with him afterwards.

Today just hits different. So I began reflecting on why.

A personal on mass incarceration.

It’s easy to look at statistics and say “this is a problem”. We must not lose sight of the fact that those numbers are PEOPLE. Mass incarceration does not only affect the person incarcerated, but instead sends a ripple effect impacting family, friends, and community.

Incarceration has been a reality for a good portion of my dad’s side of the family. I may have met my paternal grandfather a few times, but I honestly don’t remember as he was hit by a car and killed when I was 5.

My father went to prison when I was 8. You are supposed to be entitled to a trial by jury of your peers. My dad was convicted by an all white jury. My father was released from prison when I was 17. At that point, he had been incarcerated for more than half of my life.

9 years of scant one hour visits where we weren’t allowed to hold hands or hug. I would cry hysterically when I had to leave. 9 years of primarily communicating via letter and if I was lucky maybe a 15 minute phone call here or there.

My dad worked for 13¢ an hour in the kitchen and would save up money and send it to me. Unlike other little kids, I didn’t get to have my dad at my sports games, school recitals, or parent teacher conferences. I couldn’t feel my dad’s embrace when I needed comforting.

On top of that, as a pre-teen/teen, it was stressful worrying about my father’s safety while he was incarcerated. Was he going to be okay? When was he coming home? When would I talk to him next?

When my dad was released and on GPS monitoring, he was able to watch one of my final field hockey games. He had to leave early because of his curfew. But it was such a heartwarming experience for me. As close to normalcy as possible for us.

My dad came up a few months ago to take care of me after surgery. The night before my surgery we went to the gym together. I cried. At 27, it was the first time I had been to the gym with my dad. Something other people do regularly and take for granted.

I had pushed all of this down. Packed it neatly away and ignored it until a few months ago. I was (note past tense) dating a guy who worked as a court clerk for the juvenile justice system. He had been reprimanded by his boss for being on his phone during court proceedings.

I agreed his phone use was inappropriate and verbatim, his response was “If I want to look at memes on my phone while someone is having their lives torn apart then that’s my prerogative.”

It tore that neat, packed away box all the way open. These are the people we have working in our systems - dismissing the very real pain these systems cause. Certain people complain about “fatherless” Black children. My father was taken from me.

Now that I have him back, I have to worry about other threats to his life. I tell you all of this to say, those numbers are people. People with families, with feelings, with trauma, with pain. Pls keep that in mind as we find a way forward for a more just country for all of us.