In 1993, the women in my facility were moved to a more dangerous prison that housed both male and female inmates and employed both male and female officers. Most of all, I was a hopeless person: Adults in my life, including my lawyers and the jail staff, told me that I would certainly die behind bars. My brain, according to scientific research I’ve now learned a lot about, was not yet fully developed. In hindsight, I was misbehaving not because I was a bad person, but because I was a very young person. I continued to act out, like the teenager I was, by committing all the standard rule infractions, among them insolence to staff and possession of contraband. Once I got to prison, I was dealing with extreme guilt over my aunt’s death, and fear, because I was still a child and felt desperately alone.
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