by Noel Rodriguez, Calipatria State Prison in Calipatria, CA I grew up in Watts, South Central, Los Angeles, CA., where we were poor. I migrated from Mexico. We were homeless. We would sometimes live in a car- father, mother, brother and myself. We spent about ten years living and renting a room in some family’s home. While my father worked hard to provide for us, my mother would take us dumpster diving for aluminum or bottles (glass) to sell to the recycling company. We would use that money to eat and pay rent. It was not a lot of money
Continue ReadingYear: 2021
Volume 26.23/24
Please contact Lisa Lavaysse if you would like to purchase the full PDF or a printed copy of this issue.
Continue ReadingEd Note 26.23/24
Greetings friends! Welcome back to another amazing edition of The Beat Within! Each issue we put out continues to amaze us with so many great pieces of writing and art that you all share. As the world begins to slowly open up, we are thrilled to return back in person to many of our partnered sites. It is really great to see you writers and staff in person. we know the feeling is mutual. The other night we returned for the first time to San Mateo County Youth Services Center, and wow, did we have fantastic sessions. Plenty of solid
Continue ReadingI was Born with Talent
by Abraham, San Diego My family realized that when I was in kindergarten I had talent. I remember, every other kid would draw sticks and dots as their characters, but I drew body parts in my art. I would draw ears, eyes, a nose, and lips. I grew up watching my father tattoo all sorts of people in my momma’s kitchen. I would sit there spaced out in my own world, blurred vision because I needed glasses but I still drew. I never paid attention in school because I was always too busy drawing something, whether it was my
Continue ReadingAnger Of Addiction
by Shasta, San Mateo Anger to me is defined as a fire in my mind that is fueled by negative thoughts. It starts off small but grows quickly into more vicious anger. Most of my anger used to come from my previous drug use. I didn’t see it as a problem until after I stopped using. If you’re curious on what my drug of choice was, it was Xanax. It affects your mind at such a rapid pace that you don’t recognize the problems it causes until it’s too late. It definitely affected my mood and caused me to lash
Continue ReadingMy First College Classes
by Ghost, San Mateo I’m going to talk about taking my first college classes. The first time I took college classes was here in the YSC (Youth Services Center aka Juvenile Hall). I was working in a normal class in school when I found out about it. I was just chilling in class when this teacher came in. He started talking about how we would have sessions in his class that we could take online through Zoom. We were told that we were going to get college credits and normal credits in high school as well. I don’t know why
Continue ReadingComing to America
by Lalo, San Francisco I was born on 5/19/2004 in Brazil. Growing up was full of tough times for me. I only met my dad one time at the age of 10, in court, when he signed the papers giving my mom full custody of me. I also grew up without my mother from the age of 5 to 12 when she left Brazil to come to the United States for a better life. She left without giving me any explanation about why she was leaving. I still remember how I screamed and begged her not to leave me, and
Continue ReadingFilthy Living Conditions
by Frederick Mason, USP Tucson in Tucson, AZ Today, November 24th, I woke up in my cell, in B2 unit USP Tucson, at about 7am as I heard the breakfast trays coming. I got up, reminded that just yesterday, November 23rd, that 18 inmates in B2 tested positive for the COVID-19 virus and had to be moved to B1 along with their property, except their mattresses. In exchange B1 sent 30 inmates who had not tested positive into B2, since the remaining 75 of us had yet to test positive. Dorms hold up to 128 inmates. Once all the switches
Continue ReadingNo More Hurt To Give
by Keith Erickson, Pleasant Valley State Prison in Coalinga, CA There was this boy. He had been harmed as just a child by the very ones that were supposed to love and protect him. They had failed him in more ways than you can imagine. He was, like many of the men that now fill these prison walls of despair and disdain, broken before he ever stood a chance. If you knew his past, their past, you would see the world around you with deeper compassion than you ever thought possible. Their stories, our stories are real. The tattooed faces,
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Volume 26.21/22
Please contact Lisa Lavaysse if you would like to purchase the full PDF or a printed copy of this issue.
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