THREE times a week, at three different juvenile detention centers in and around Saint Louis, I volunteer to lead writing workshops for the kids who are incarcerated there. They range in age from thirteen to seventeen; like me, most of them are Black. They ended up in juvenile detention for multiple reasons—their crimes range from larceny to assault to murder. These are serious offenses, and poverty and community divestment played a role in how many of these young people ended up detained. The school-to-prison pipeline is all too real.
In some of my workshops I teach these kids about the practical side of writing: how to compose business plans and résumés, how to fill out job applications. But most important for me are the workshops in which I teach them how to express themselves in poetry and prose. As a writer myself, one who has served time in adult penitentiaries and juvenile detention—including at the Hogan Street Regional Youth Center, one of the institutions where I now lead workshops—I know the art of writing can allow us to articulate our pain and anger in constructive ways instead of acting out destructively. It can help us to find our purpose in life as well as to find meaning in suffering.
In one workshop I remember leading last May, I brought in some of the poetry books I’ve self-published, and I
