Happy New Year all! Wow, like our friends over at the Juvenile Justice Information Exchange, The Crime Report, based in New York City, picked up and is featuring on their site their favorite “Dear President Obama” pieces from The Beat Within and are featuring these standout pieces today. We must say, they did an outstanding job with the spread on their site. A couple months ago one of our writing prompts in our weekly writings workshops inside juvenile hall, county jail and state prison was a “Letter to President Obama.” We were overwhelmed by the response from our many writers,
Continue ReadingAuthor: mpau@thebeatwithin.org
The Beat Within is thrilled to be celebrating our 20th year of dedicated service to incarcerated youth and beyond!
Like all milestones that inspire genuine pride, our self-satisfaction is accompanied by a big dose of humility, as we reflect on all the incredible writers and workshop facilitators who have poured their energy, talent, compassion, and love into this program. The Beat simply would have long since ceased to be without the courage of our participants and the dedication of scores of workshop facilitators, typists and editors who gave so much and asked for so little in return. Now we humbly ask you to reaffirm your belief in the power of the written word to enlighten minds, elevate spirits, and liberate
Continue ReadingVOLUME 21.49/50
Please contact Lisa Lavaysse if you would like to purchase the full PDF or a printed copy of this issue.
Continue ReadingRecognizing The Wrong
by C For many years of my life I had refused to blame myself for my wrong doings. For some reason, it was always the teacher’s fault, the other kid’s fault, the victim’s fault for leaving their doors unlocked. It wasn’t until recently I learned to tell myself that every bad thing I did was of my own will. When you blame others for things you do, how are you ever going to x yourself? If one doesn’t see a problem, then there is nothing to be xed. But there is a problem and if it goes un xed the
Continue ReadingMy Life
by Michelle I didn’t have the best life growing up. I grew up without a mother or a father. My grandma played both parts as a parent, not only to me but to ve other grandkids, working hard to keep a roof over our heads. Many times we had beans and rice for days. I didn’t have much of a childhood. I was forced to give that up at a very early age and help my grandma look after my cousins and my baby sister. I remember telling my grandma that I would be the only one out of the whole
Continue ReadingVOLUME 21.47/48
Please contact Lisa Lavaysse if you would like to purchase the full PDF or a printed copy of this issue.
Continue ReadingMy Life Story
by Darrell McGreggor My name is Darrell McGreggor. I am forty-eight years old and I am an ex-gang member. When I was fourteen years old, I moved into my father’s home and I became troublesome— most of which was internal. I was headstrong and did whatever I wanted to do. I started hanging with the wrong crowd of people. I became mischievous and looking for love in the wrong places. At age sixteen, I joined a gang for acceptance and to be known. I wanted people to fear me. At the same time, I wanted my former peers to respect me.
Continue ReadingMy Life Story
by Darrell McGreggor My name is Darrell McGreggor. I am forty-eight years old and I am an ex-gang member. When I was fourteen years old, I moved into my father’s home and I became troublesome— most of which was internal. I was headstrong and did whatever I wanted to do. I started hanging with the wrong crowd of people. I became mischievous and looking for love in the wrong places. At age sixteen, I joined a gang for acceptance and to be known. I wanted people to fear me. At the same time, I wanted my former peers to respect
Continue ReadingVOLUME 21.45/46
Please contact Lisa Lavaysse if you would like to purchase the full PDF or a printed copy of this issue.
Continue ReadingThe Seasons of Change
by Giggs I remember telling myself I would never come back, I kept my word for the next seven years. It didn’t take too long for the fog to lift up out of my head, wanting back all I had and realizing how much I should’ve been grateful for a bit late… I stressed for the longest how much I just wanted to get back to how and where I was, not materialistically or tangibly. Just me, the person I had become, learning to love, to live. To embrace life as it comes. But the more it is the more I
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