OTHER SIDE OF THE GAME

Love. Most of us have a story about it. Sometimes it’s a fairytale, other times a cautionary tale, and for some, it can feel like a full-fledged horror movie. But no matter the form, love is something almost all of us crave or allow into our lives.

“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

For years, I didn’t agree with that. Heartbreak felt too heavy, and I wanted no part of it. But with time, I’ve learned love—real love—is always worth it.

There’s a stigma attached to loving someone behind the wall. People often assume you must have low self-esteem, that you’re being used, or that you come from trauma or broken relationships. And when you’re a woman? Those judgments come even harder.

I won’t deny that might be true for some, but it’s not the whole story. Genuine love can exist between people on opposite sides of the wall—without hidden agendas. I know, because I live it. I not only love someone who is incarcerated—I chose to make him my husband.

I first met my husband, Dutch, over 20 years ago. I read one of his books, and his words moved me so much that I reached out to him. He’s the only author I’ve ever contacted personally. What stood out most to him—and what he still remembers—is that I wrote to him as a man, not just as an author. That connection became the start of something real.

Part of that openness came from my upbringing. In my family, incarceration was present, but it never canceled out love. We supported our incarcerated relatives, celebrated their achievements, and reminded them they still mattered. Growing up in that environment taught me not to dismiss the humanity or worth of those inside prison walls.

So when Dutch and I connected, I didn’t see “a prisoner.” I saw a man with wisdom, humor, and a genuine heart. From the beginning, he cared for me as a person. He mentored me, guided me, and invested in my growth as a Black woman. He became a safe place for me long before I even realized how important that was.

When I’ve spoken publicly about my relationship, one of the first questions people ask is: “Do you have a history of sexual trauma?” When I say no, they’re surprised. There’s this assumption that women who love incarcerated men are somehow broken. But that has never been my story. I’ve never lacked attention or affection from men outside prison walls. My choice wasn’t about insecurity. It was about him—the man Dutch is.

When we first considered a relationship, Dutch was honest. He told me he might never come home and wanted me to really think about what that would mean. That kind of honesty made the choice even easier. Choosing him felt like choosing home.

“When you find the person who captivates your heart, neither time, space, nor walls can diminish that love.”

I won’t sugarcoat it—loving someone incarcerated is not easy. It’s not for everyone. It requires patience, resilience, and strength. But it also creates a bond that is deep and unshakable.

There are countless men and women in this country who love incarcerated partners. Are they all perfect? No. Some deserve to be alone. But many are incredible, loving people with so much to give.

For me, the absence of physical intimacy has strengthened our connection. Without sex clouding judgment, we’ve built a love rooted in trust, communication, and emotional intimacy.

I’ve never been in love the way I am now. Not with potential, not with an idea, but with a man who loves me fully—even from behind the wall. Real love has no boundaries. No limits. No expiration date.

So may you find real love in real time—whether they’re up the street or doing time.

Stay inspired.

Hip Hop Humanism Human Resource Department