Hey, what’s up, everybody? This is Antoine, aka Indy. I’m calling in again. Today, I want to share something deeply personal that was published in a prison journalism project. The piece is titled “I’m Tired.”
Let me start by saying this: The silence of the hole is maddening. After six years of solitary, the mental exhaustion is unbearable. So is the need for human connection. Boom, boom, boom. I’m tired. That noise startled me awake at 5 a.m. Five hours later, it still went on. Sweat ran down my neck and soaked my shirt. I’d been pacing for hours, and each time my neighbor banged on his door, desk, or bumped into something, my adrenaline spiked. Boom, boom, boom. I’m tired.
It was June 2012, two years into my incarceration, just a bit more than six months after being sentenced to 28 to 20 years in a Pennsylvania prison. And it was only four months after I turned 20 years old. I had been in solitary confinement for three days. Boom, boom, boom. I’m tired.
Eventually, my anger got the better of me, and I yelled into the vent, “Well, lay down, I’m tired of hearing you.” After a brief silence, a hoarse, barely audible voice came back, “I’m sorry.” My anger dissipated, and curiosity took over. I asked RahRah, as he told me to call him, to begin recounting his story. He had been in solitary confinement for 13 years. He wasn’t receiving treatment for his mental illnesses, which, he said, were only compounded by the circumstances.
In 2019, according to Solitary Watch and the Unlock the Box campaign, there were 122,000 people locked in solitary confinement in the United States on any given day. That was roughly 6% of the total US prison and jail population. The United Nations calls prolonged solitary confinement a form of psychological torture. It often lasts longer than a month, and research shows it can lead to severe psychological, emotional, and behavioral effects. It can even shorten lives after release. About half of prison suicides are suffered by those in solitary confinement.
Back then, when I heard RahRah’s cry for help, I didn’t fully grasp that my neighbor, like most of us, just needed the mental and emotional stimulation that comes from social interaction. Our conversations through the air vents were his escape from years of isolation. More than a decade later, I am six years into my own indefinite bout of solitary confinement. Sitting here in this tiny cell, I’ve reflected a lot on that day talking to RahRah.
I don’t know how I’ve kept my sanity, and some days, the silence becomes too loud. I’m tempted to bang, to make noise so loud it drowns out the deafening silence. Not to disturb others, but to feel alive. I understand now, better than ever, how my old neighbor felt. This mental exhaustion is more draining than any physical fatigue I’ve ever felt. I’m tired.
Thanks for listening to that, y’all. I definitely hope to share some more writings in the future. My name again is Antoine Walker. Number KG7791. I’m incarcerated in Pennsylvania, at SCI Greene. You can email me, network, or write me directly if you’re open to it at: Smart Communications, PADLC, PO Box 33028, St. Petersburg, Florida, 33733. Thanks for listening.
These commentaries are recorded by Prison Radio.