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Read more For Child Abuse Survivors Like Me, Prison Reactivates Familiar Trauma
As repression has escalated in so many realms of U.S. life over the past year and a half, we cannot allow ourselves to forget that nearly 2 million people in this country experience some of the most constant and brutal state repression, in the form of incarceration. Millions more are on probation, parole, electronic monitoring, or another form of non-institutional confinement that often leads straight back to incarceration. Meanwhile, 79 million people in this country live with a criminal record and all the barriers and obstacles that come with it, and nearly half of U.S. adults have an immediate family member who has been incarcerated. Too often, in moments of crisis and upheaval, attention turns away from the millions behind bars, and the many millions more who’ve been impacted by incarceration. We must uplift the stories of incarcerated and formerly incarcerated writers who are sharing their stories firsthand — and calling us to action.
Today, the Truthout Center for Grassroots Journalism is grateful to announce the winners of the sixth annual Keeley Schenwar Memorial Essay Prize. The prize, awarded to two formerly or currently incarcerated people for essays related to imprisonment or policing, is given in memory of my sister Keeley Schenwar (1990-2020), who was a devoted mother, daughter, sister, friend, writer, and advocate for incarcerated mothers. Each year, the selected essays share some of the spirit in which Keeley Schenwar moved through the world (and wrote her own work): a spirit of empathy, open-heartedness, and resistance. Each winner receives $3,000 and publication in Truthout. This year, we received 614 submissions — more than ever before — and each one shone a powerful light. We wish we could have chosen many more winners; selecting two is a near-impossible endeavor. We’re so grateful to everyone who trusted us to read their work, and to everyone who participated in the selection process. In addition to members of the Truthout team, we are very thankful for Joseph Peterson, who bottom-lined the program and correspondence process, and for our guest judge Colette Payne, a winner of the 2022 prize.
The 2026 winners of the Keeley Schenwar Memorial Essay Prize are Harlow Scott, author of “Cancer in Prison: A Death Sentence?” and Jazzy Mason, author of “For Child Abuse Survivors Like Me, Prison Reactivates Familiar Trauma.”
Harlow’s essay, “Cancer in Prison: A Death Sentence?” chronicles her diagnosis with colon cancer, 14 years into her prison sentence. She describes the medical neglect and abuse to which she’s been subjected — and the long-term deprivation of healthy food, safe conditions, and emotional well-being that makes incarcerated people more vulnerable to cancer. Guards shackled her in the hospital in the days after surgery, rendering it impossible to thoroughly clean her wounds. Returning to prison afterward, she was forced to ride in a vehicle meant for prison dogs. She must regularly drink water that has been deemed essentially unfit for human consumption. And yet, Harlow writes, “If I die today, I don’t want to be remembered as another number forgotten amongst the casualties of the prison system. I want to be remembered as a spontaneous shimmering light, dancing and free.”
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Jazzy’s essay, “For Child Abuse Survivors Like Me, Prison Reactivates Familiar Trauma,” points to the way in which prison functions as sexual abuse, especially for those who survived such abuse before prison. She calls us to recognize the impact of this constant trauma reactivation for survivors behind bars. Jazzy writes, “For survivors of childhood abuse — especially sexual abuse — incarceration is not merely confinement. It is reenactment. Strip searches, body checks, constant surveillance, verbal degradation, forced compliance: these are not neutral practices. They mirror the dynamics of abuse with chilling precision.” Her essay also emanates a spirit of persistent resistance, which infuses every step of her struggle against the “man in blue.”
Both of this year’s prizewinning authors map their own stories onto a larger political analysis, one that recognizes the complicity of the entire carceral system in a web of interconnected violences. Taken together, these essays show us that, in this age of so-called “trauma-informed prisons” and “mental health jails,” prison is — by nature — not healing, rehabilitative, or safe. It is not trauma-informed; it is trauma. As Jazzy puts it, “That is why incarcerated voices matter. Not as confessions. Not as cautionary tales. But as testimony. People who have been inside understand something the outside world often refuses to see: Incarceration is not just about punishment. It is about power over bodies — especially bodies that have already been violated.”
I want to offer my deep congratulations to this year’s winners, and gratitude for sharing their stories and their insights with the world. Also, I’m extending a massive thank you to all who submitted essays, and to everyone writing against authoritarianism, surveillance, confinement, and carceral control. Your words inspire us and show us that there’s a path beyond these horrors.
The work of these writers points toward a future in which no one is an incarcerated writer — a future built on freedom, liberation, and autonomy, in which everyone has what they need to thrive. In the meantime, I’m drawing courage from Harlow Scott, who writes, “My life force remains. I won’t let them steal it, in the time I have left.”
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