My name is Rob. I’m from the mean, mean streets of Boston, Massachusetts. Although my state and city is seen as snobby, I suffered the same plight as any other Black kid growing up in the ghettos of America. While trying to navigate my way through poverty, I became an enemy to the criminal justice system. The “long arm of the law” has been grasping for my collar ever since I was a juvenile. I haven’t gotten the chance to experience life yet. I want to. There has to be more than prison yards, cement floors, and steel bunks. Right? I risked a lot to ensure that I didn’t come home with “nothing”, but if I return to the people, places, and things of the past – have I grown?
Prison tries to break us, but how can a broken person be a productive member of society? Reach out. Share your experience and lend your advice. I promise you, it will be appreciated.