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The trauma of my father's arrest upended my Mom and her attention was focused on our economic fat," writes Underwood.
The holidays represented a dark time in my life and the same may be true for millions of people like me who had—or still have—loved ones behind bars.
After 33 years of separation from incarceration, I still remain in awe that I am able to spend the holiday season with my dad outside of prison walls. I am extremely grateful for my father’s freedom. However, it would be misleading for me not to share that I am also still emotionally jolted by the holidays and decades of separation I experienced away from my father.
The holidays represented a dark time in my life. It was a reminder of when my father was arrested and later sentenced to life in prison. Although I attempted to tuck away the pain, it somehow always seemed to resurface. My father was arrested between Thanksgiving and Christmas. There were no gifts that Christmas, just the weight of uncertainty and pain. The trauma of my father's arrest upended my Mom and her attention was focused on our economic fate. Without instructions or tools for how to emotionally cope with this physical separation, my once anticipated hope for the holiday season evolved into a reminder of devastating pain.
The reality of this form of separation exists for millions of children and families across the US. Inhumane policies accelerated the rate of incarceration over the last 50 years. The result? Generations of children and parents left to cope with the profound consequences of separation each holiday season.
Post-pandemic many families remain separated. For the last 3 years, millions of children were unable to physically hug, kiss, or visit in-person their incarcerated Mom or Dad during the holiday season. Nothing can replace this bond, but with the surge of technology, predatory telecom vendors continue to create conditions that monetize love and put families in financial debt with costly video calls and phone calls, as the sole option for children to connect with their incarcerated parents.
Rickeyra has no memory of her father outside of prison walls. She was 3 months old when her 21-year old father, Ricky Jivens, was sentenced to life in federal prison. Nonetheless, Ricky has never wavered in remaining connected to his daughter throughout his 31 years of incarceration. From her earliest memories, Rickyera remembers phone calls, letters, quizzes and questionnaires from her Dad to keep actively engaged. Since the COVID-19 pandemic, Ricky's facility has revamped visiting policies making it nearly impossible to have a humane in-person visit, with a plastic barrier and phone that separates incarcerated individuals from their loved ones. After decades of separation, Rickeyra yearns to spend Christmas with her father outside of prison.
DeRonte was an infant when his father, Ronald Craig, was sentenced to 40 years in prison. Now 25, DeRonte is a college graduate and successful entrepreneur. Remaining connected to his only child despite prison walls, Ronald always motivated and helped to cultivate his son's growth as an entrepreneur. DeRonte's one wish this holiday season is for his father’s freedom.
When her father, Omar Torres Montalvo, was incarcerated 25 years ago, six-year-old Sylvia became introverted. She was deeply traumatized by the housing instability caused to her family. Today, Sylvia says it is her father from prison who has helped to lift her spirits. Omar’s continued encouragement, love and guidance to his daughter has given Sylvia the strength to move beyond her shyness. She's turned her pain into power and is determined to celebrate the holiday season with her father outside of prison.
Rickeyra, DeRonte and Sylvia are WE GOT US NOW Actionist. Understanding first-hand the traumatizing impacts of parental separation throughout a child’s life, these young people seek to advance the well-being of this subpopulation of children through narrative, policy, and system change. As subject matter experts, they educate stakeholders, inspire allies and empower other daughters and sons to let them know they are not alone. Each of their experiences gives a glimpse into the resilient, enduring, continuous hope and love they carry from childhood.
I survived the weight and expansiveness of this type of love. I believe by prioritizing the health and well-being of children impacted by a parent's incarceration while simultaneously uplifting a vision for shared safety can result in best practices for visiting procedures, sentencing policies and telecom services that shifts the collateral damage of parental separation for children.
As I prepare to celebrate the holiday season, I recognize the blessing of my father's freedom, acknowledge that I am still healing, and am inspired by what's possible for the future of children with incarcerated parents.
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After 33 years of separation from incarceration, I still remain in awe that I am able to spend the holiday season with my dad outside of prison walls. I am extremely grateful for my father’s freedom. However, it would be misleading for me not to share that I am also still emotionally jolted by the holidays and decades of separation I experienced away from my father.
The holidays represented a dark time in my life. It was a reminder of when my father was arrested and later sentenced to life in prison. Although I attempted to tuck away the pain, it somehow always seemed to resurface. My father was arrested between Thanksgiving and Christmas. There were no gifts that Christmas, just the weight of uncertainty and pain. The trauma of my father's arrest upended my Mom and her attention was focused on our economic fate. Without instructions or tools for how to emotionally cope with this physical separation, my once anticipated hope for the holiday season evolved into a reminder of devastating pain.
The reality of this form of separation exists for millions of children and families across the US. Inhumane policies accelerated the rate of incarceration over the last 50 years. The result? Generations of children and parents left to cope with the profound consequences of separation each holiday season.
Post-pandemic many families remain separated. For the last 3 years, millions of children were unable to physically hug, kiss, or visit in-person their incarcerated Mom or Dad during the holiday season. Nothing can replace this bond, but with the surge of technology, predatory telecom vendors continue to create conditions that monetize love and put families in financial debt with costly video calls and phone calls, as the sole option for children to connect with their incarcerated parents.
Rickeyra has no memory of her father outside of prison walls. She was 3 months old when her 21-year old father, Ricky Jivens, was sentenced to life in federal prison. Nonetheless, Ricky has never wavered in remaining connected to his daughter throughout his 31 years of incarceration. From her earliest memories, Rickyera remembers phone calls, letters, quizzes and questionnaires from her Dad to keep actively engaged. Since the COVID-19 pandemic, Ricky's facility has revamped visiting policies making it nearly impossible to have a humane in-person visit, with a plastic barrier and phone that separates incarcerated individuals from their loved ones. After decades of separation, Rickeyra yearns to spend Christmas with her father outside of prison.
DeRonte was an infant when his father, Ronald Craig, was sentenced to 40 years in prison. Now 25, DeRonte is a college graduate and successful entrepreneur. Remaining connected to his only child despite prison walls, Ronald always motivated and helped to cultivate his son's growth as an entrepreneur. DeRonte's one wish this holiday season is for his father’s freedom.
When her father, Omar Torres Montalvo, was incarcerated 25 years ago, six-year-old Sylvia became introverted. She was deeply traumatized by the housing instability caused to her family. Today, Sylvia says it is her father from prison who has helped to lift her spirits. Omar’s continued encouragement, love and guidance to his daughter has given Sylvia the strength to move beyond her shyness. She's turned her pain into power and is determined to celebrate the holiday season with her father outside of prison.
Rickeyra, DeRonte and Sylvia are WE GOT US NOW Actionist. Understanding first-hand the traumatizing impacts of parental separation throughout a child’s life, these young people seek to advance the well-being of this subpopulation of children through narrative, policy, and system change. As subject matter experts, they educate stakeholders, inspire allies and empower other daughters and sons to let them know they are not alone. Each of their experiences gives a glimpse into the resilient, enduring, continuous hope and love they carry from childhood.
I survived the weight and expansiveness of this type of love. I believe by prioritizing the health and well-being of children impacted by a parent's incarceration while simultaneously uplifting a vision for shared safety can result in best practices for visiting procedures, sentencing policies and telecom services that shifts the collateral damage of parental separation for children.
As I prepare to celebrate the holiday season, I recognize the blessing of my father's freedom, acknowledge that I am still healing, and am inspired by what's possible for the future of children with incarcerated parents.
After 33 years of separation from incarceration, I still remain in awe that I am able to spend the holiday season with my dad outside of prison walls. I am extremely grateful for my father’s freedom. However, it would be misleading for me not to share that I am also still emotionally jolted by the holidays and decades of separation I experienced away from my father.
The holidays represented a dark time in my life. It was a reminder of when my father was arrested and later sentenced to life in prison. Although I attempted to tuck away the pain, it somehow always seemed to resurface. My father was arrested between Thanksgiving and Christmas. There were no gifts that Christmas, just the weight of uncertainty and pain. The trauma of my father's arrest upended my Mom and her attention was focused on our economic fate. Without instructions or tools for how to emotionally cope with this physical separation, my once anticipated hope for the holiday season evolved into a reminder of devastating pain.
The reality of this form of separation exists for millions of children and families across the US. Inhumane policies accelerated the rate of incarceration over the last 50 years. The result? Generations of children and parents left to cope with the profound consequences of separation each holiday season.
Post-pandemic many families remain separated. For the last 3 years, millions of children were unable to physically hug, kiss, or visit in-person their incarcerated Mom or Dad during the holiday season. Nothing can replace this bond, but with the surge of technology, predatory telecom vendors continue to create conditions that monetize love and put families in financial debt with costly video calls and phone calls, as the sole option for children to connect with their incarcerated parents.
Rickeyra has no memory of her father outside of prison walls. She was 3 months old when her 21-year old father, Ricky Jivens, was sentenced to life in federal prison. Nonetheless, Ricky has never wavered in remaining connected to his daughter throughout his 31 years of incarceration. From her earliest memories, Rickyera remembers phone calls, letters, quizzes and questionnaires from her Dad to keep actively engaged. Since the COVID-19 pandemic, Ricky's facility has revamped visiting policies making it nearly impossible to have a humane in-person visit, with a plastic barrier and phone that separates incarcerated individuals from their loved ones. After decades of separation, Rickeyra yearns to spend Christmas with her father outside of prison.
DeRonte was an infant when his father, Ronald Craig, was sentenced to 40 years in prison. Now 25, DeRonte is a college graduate and successful entrepreneur. Remaining connected to his only child despite prison walls, Ronald always motivated and helped to cultivate his son's growth as an entrepreneur. DeRonte's one wish this holiday season is for his father’s freedom.
When her father, Omar Torres Montalvo, was incarcerated 25 years ago, six-year-old Sylvia became introverted. She was deeply traumatized by the housing instability caused to her family. Today, Sylvia says it is her father from prison who has helped to lift her spirits. Omar’s continued encouragement, love and guidance to his daughter has given Sylvia the strength to move beyond her shyness. She's turned her pain into power and is determined to celebrate the holiday season with her father outside of prison.
Rickeyra, DeRonte and Sylvia are WE GOT US NOW Actionist. Understanding first-hand the traumatizing impacts of parental separation throughout a child’s life, these young people seek to advance the well-being of this subpopulation of children through narrative, policy, and system change. As subject matter experts, they educate stakeholders, inspire allies and empower other daughters and sons to let them know they are not alone. Each of their experiences gives a glimpse into the resilient, enduring, continuous hope and love they carry from childhood.
I survived the weight and expansiveness of this type of love. I believe by prioritizing the health and well-being of children impacted by a parent's incarceration while simultaneously uplifting a vision for shared safety can result in best practices for visiting procedures, sentencing policies and telecom services that shifts the collateral damage of parental separation for children.
As I prepare to celebrate the holiday season, I recognize the blessing of my father's freedom, acknowledge that I am still healing, and am inspired by what's possible for the future of children with incarcerated parents.
