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Going into prison as a confused and ill-informed young boy and staying for three decades, afforded me many opportunities to think about freedom. At 19yrs young I was serving a 50 year sentence and freedom in my mind was abstract. It was a word that I’ve been hearing for as long as I can remember hearing words and making out how to use them. I could never conceptualize what freedom was. I had nothing I could point to and say, “Look, freedom!” Prior to going to prison the conception of freedom in my mind was imaginary, not realistic.

The who, behind those words is still a blur to me almost 40 yrs later. The impact of those words on my young mind proved strong during the many tumultuous moments of my life.  It is always something that I read, or remember reading, that helps me to overcome obstacles and survive the storms I encounter in life.

I attended a book reading and discussion hosted by Freedom Reads on October 10th with acclaimed poet and Freedom Reads founder and CEO, Dwayne Betts, and award-winning author and Harvard professor, Imani Perry, at MCI-Framingham. When I arrived at the women’s prison I learned that it is the oldest operating women's prison in the country, opening in 1877. 

Why do some people love certain books that other people really can’t stand?  That may seem a weird question -- some people like Brussel sprouts and other people hate them, some people like to watch the news or the weather channel or romcoms and other people avoid all that as much as they can, some people love jazz music and others find it boring. To each their own.But when it comes to literature and other works of art, the way that people respond can have deeper meaning.

I was so honored, grateful, and deeply moved to be invited to speak at the Inside Literary Prize event on July 10, 2025. Not so long ago, within the walls of prison, loneliness was my constant companion. Isolation had become my reality, and hope felt like a distant memory. Each day felt heavier than the last.

At Freedom Reads, Allie serves as our Development Manager—but she’ll be the first to tell you that title only scratches the surface. Her work goes far beyond fundraising. From writing grant proposals to engaging with our Library Patrons, Allie is a key part of bringing our mission to life. She’s traveled to all 15 stops of the Inside Literary Prize tour this year, helping collect stories, discuss books, and take photos.

Freedom Reads Library Coordinator David Perez DeHoyos sat down with Hector, Freedom Library Patron at MCI-Norfolk, to talk about all things books. Read their conversation below.

A full moon cast a wintry bright light over London while people from all over the world hurried across cobblestoned streets to the seasonal sound of Christmas. Street-corner Santas held gleaming brass bells which they shook endlessly in the cold night. From high-end boutiques glittering up and down and all around in silver and gold, to the pipe smoking vendor selling bourbon laced eggnog with candy cane mixers, to the church choir singing “We Three Kings” beneath a Victorian-era lamppost, the scene in London was about one thing: Christmas. The holiday was here, large and in charge. It was holding the candle of religion in one hand, while balancing the candle of commercialization in the other. Whether or not you or anyone else was in the mood for Christmas, the sights and sounds of the city in December were doing their level best to get you there.

I’ve learned that some of us, with these two ears of ours, though parallel and balanced, still hear like owls – with a particular precision. Owls have ears that almost function as longitude and latitude. At forty miles per hour and over three feet of freshly fallen snow, an owl can swoop down and locate the heart pulse of a mole twelve inches buried in white. I am humbled by that necessary focus. And though my brain is scattered as some memories might be, my receptors are finely tuned to decipher, and sometimes only this, complicated text into the reasons I am not loved.

A supermoon shining older and colder than superstition cast a wintry light over London while I hurried over cobblestoned streets to the sound of bells ringing in the white-gloved hands of the sidewalk Santa.