We grew up listening to Tupac, smoking blunts and emulating Black people. Behind bars, our past was a dangerous secret.

I’m a Cambodian-American from Long Beach, California. But to a prison system that limits its population categories to “Black,” “White” and “Hispanic,” I’m the race version of a misfit toy.

Being locked up for a crime I didn’t commit was hard. But nothing compares to the humiliation and harassment that my elderly, disabled, Black cellmate experienced.

Growing up with a father who was incarcerated didn’t define me. But it certainly taught me to challenge stereotypes and ask better questions.