In an essay for Plough, John J. Lennon writes about a personal impasse: He’s built a career as a journalist and writer, and it may look like redemption on the outside, but it doesn’t feel like it on the inside.
EXCERPT
Aleem and I are talking about faith at a metal picnic table on the cellblock tier. On a flatscreen, CNN talking heads are blabbing about impeachment, something about fairness and justice. The Covid-19 apocalypse hasn’t yet begun. The cell bars are gray, men wandering up and down the tier are mostly black, and I’m white. Aleem is a leader in the Muslim community here. He’s fiftyish and tall and light brown and sports a kufi and a beard. I ask Aleem how his faith has helped him cope while doing time, and why he thinks guys become Muslim in the joint.
“Guys take their shahada for different reasons in prison,” he tells me. “Some do it to lean towards the largest body for protection.”