It doesn’t matter how American I feel. The labels applied to me are “foreign,” “terrorist,” “inmate” and “other.”

Rashon Venable spent three productive years at New York’s Sullivan Correctional Facility. A surprise shutdown sent the Muslim poet and writer into a tailspin.

In those moments when I feel like a puppet tied up in strings, I draw on my Muslim faith to stay hopeful.

It’s a common misconception that once someone enters jail or prison, they lose their interest in the outside world.

The Obamas are part of the Illuminati. Former inmates get lifetime benefits. “Franking.” And other myths that spread behind bars.

On the outside, most discussions about incarceration and sexual desire are limited to exploitative “reality” shows, violent movies and terrible jokes about homosexuality and prison rape. But like all humans, we deserve some semblance of dignity.

As a kid in Pakistan, police treated Tariq MaQbool like a nephew. As an adult in solitary confinement, the kindness of one New Jersey corrections officer made him feel human.

“In a way, it was like seeing myself clearly for the first time.”

In cell 62, another birthday turns into another day alone.

Publishing personal essays about the criminal justice system can be as complex as the system itself, writes engagement journalist Carla Canning.

“I’m hungry to make meaning out of destruction.”

As a suicide prevention aide, I had to make sure my fellow detainees didn’t harm themselves. It was surprisingly easy to get such a complex job.