Early in life I learned the value of friendship through the joy that my friends brought to my life. I have always cherished those relationships; the old and the new alike, but after years of incarceration, life pulled old relationships systematically away and brought making new friendships to a screeching halt. So, what am I to do? What is a world without friends? You see, it is my belief that each friend represents a world within us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.

Today I’ve decided to reach out and it is my hope that new friends hear my call, and we can not only explore but build a new world together. Here’s a little about me: My name is Lynn (he/him), and I am an incarcerated writer and academic currently incarcerated in Illinois, A 2023 graduate of Northwestern University through the Northwestern prison education program, and one of 16 incarcerated students to graduate from a top ten University, while incarcerated in U.S. history.

I earned my B.A. in social sciences, induction into Northwestern’s Alpha Sigma Lambda honor society, and a founding member of a Restorative Justice Research Team in collaboration with the James Moran Center for Youth Advocacy. I also had the honor of the first incarcerated legislative intern to serve with the Illinois state senate, working with senator of the (43rd district-D) Rachel Ventura on juvenile justice reform.

My writing spans journalism, creative nonfiction, and speculative fiction. My published work includes: “The seventh sense”, in Spark Literary Journal, “In My Illinois Prison, a Trail of bloody footprints” in the Prison Journalism Project and legislative analysis in Northwestern Insider, where I serve as a senior editor. Lastly, my short play, “The Love Gift” was staged in partnership with the Goodman Theatre in 2023. I am 45 years old and a proud Aries. I’ll leave you with one of my fondest childhood memories because it reminds me of family, friendship, and love. What is one of your fondest memories?

The smell of bacon and wafts of cinnamon permeated every corner of our humble dwelling. Sounds of laughter, the ‘clink clink’ of spoon and fork on plate; the pitter-patter of tiny feet running to and from, as the youngest children chased after one another. In front of the large floor model television set is where you found me and my four cousins every Saturday morning when I was 8. Crunching on crispy bacon and toast caked with cinnamon or shoveling massive mounds of sugary cereal into our mouths, with our eyes glued to the television set, while it cranked out our favorite cartoons from sunrise to high noon.