Writing from Within
As 26 teenagers enter a classroom, walking slowly in single file and wearing identical orange tops and blue sweatpants, there isn’t the scurrying and last-minute exchanges of a typical high school.
But this isn’t a typical high school. It’s a classroom in Marin County’s Juvenile Hall, where teens in trouble are incarcerated and rarely have the chance to experience some of the normalcy of being teenagers.
But that’s what unfolds over the next hour, as a facilitator and volunteer from The Beat Within—a weekly magazine featuring the work of incarcerated youth—work with these kids to help them express themselves through creative writing.
While the students are encouraged to write about anything, the suggested topics of the night go right to the core of their lives: “I don’t want to hear it,” “Life is confusing,” The most memorable concert,” and “The last time I had tears in my eyes.”
Before they start to write, they share some thoughts about these issues: “I’m confused about why people hate so much.” “Why can’t people support each other?” “This concert I went to in Oakland was smackin’”
Then, on a single sheet of yellow paper, using pens that are closely monitored when they’re collected later, the writing begins. And gradually, the room fills with the murmur and laughter of a classroom outside these walls.
The poems, personal stories, and other forms of writing provide glimpses into these kids’ anger, dreams, regrets, relationships, and what they miss.
One describes her painful experiences living with her father; another writes a story called “My Rock Bottom,” about a drug-filled night on the streets of San Francisco, where his girlfriend’s parents rescued her, but not him; and another imagines a special meal in Italy he’d like to have some day.
And from one student:
“My mom is my love my love she is. My mom’s amazing, amazing my mom is. My mom has a heart full of love she has.”
Over the hour, the volume of the room increases to a steady din, as kids share their writing with each other, joke around, and talk one-on-one with the visiting adults, with whom they have easy connections. One teen shows the facilitator a family photo on which he’s basing a story. Another talks about what it will mean not to be home for Christmas, and another brings the facilitator up to date on a job he hopes to get.
What do the kids get out of this experience? “I like to hear the stories and perspectives of other kids in similar situations,” wrote one participant. And another commented that while writing, he discovered things that he didn’t notice before.
And another commented, “I read other people’s things because I like to go into their worlds for a split second and relate.”
Chris Tamaru wrote for the magazine two years ago when he was in Juvenile Hall in Alameda, and now works-part time helping produce it in its San Francisco offices. He says that writing gave him “a way to vent and express myself—about how I was feeling and things from my past.” Eventually, he wants to become a social worker, helping other kids.
David Inocencio, director and co-founder of The Beat Within, says that this program provides “a place without judgment.” “We don’t want to create a ‘red-marker’ mentality. We want to create a safe place where the students won’t put up their defenses.
Pauline Craig, the workshop facilitator in Marin, adds, “This program is about giving the kids a chance to express themselves and be listened to, and to be proud of writing something that others will read.”
The Beat Within receives funding from MCF under its efforts to provide experiences with the arts to people who are hard to reach and often not served by arts programs. As for TBW, it sees itself as “a bridge between youth who are locked up and the community that aims to support their progress towards a healthy, non-violent, and productive life.”
