Fighting to Heal: Terrance’s Youth Reentry Story

I had to grow up fast.

At 16, I went from playing third base for my middle school team to what we called the Gladiator Camp. We gave it that name because every day felt like a battle. Fighting wasn’t mandatory—but if you backed down, you became prey.

I grew up in the Pittsburgh projects. Some days meant skipping school, selling drugs, and taking part in robberies. I used to think I wasn’t hurting anyone. Now I know better. After I missed 90 days of middle school, I was sent to an all-boys military academy – my first “youth placement.” They called it an academy to sound positive, but it was anything but.

That’s where Gladiator Camp got its name. It's where I learned how to be a better criminal. I slept with my shoes on every night, always ready to defend myself. The individuals hired as counselors were underpaid and didn’t care about us. Many of them physically assaulted us. It wasn’t unusual to see a grown man kick a kid in the stomach. I became desensitized to casual violence.

There are over 1,700 juvenile facilities in the U.S. According to the Prison Policy Initiative, around 48,000 justice-involved youth are confined on any given day in detention centers or long-term secure facilities. Many of these use restraints, pepper spray, or solitary confinement. The Sentencing Project reported that the many of these kids live behind locked doors in environments eerily similar to adult prisons.

Being incarcerated as a young adult increases your risk of physical and psychological abuse, sexual assault, and suicide. That’s why mental health support is critical—especially close to release. I’m 25 now, but my PTSD, depression, and anxiety began in reform school. No one with expertise was there to help.

Kids aged 10 to 19 go through huge emotional and social changes—this is when trauma digs deep into the psyche. I was carrying the weight of my own trauma when I got the call from my mom. My grandma, whom I was close to, had cancer and had less than a year to live. This was the catalyst that made me begin to fight all the time. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently if I’d had a grief counselor. Instead, I was angry, sad, and helpless.

Since 2000, the number of youth in confinement has fallen by 60%; while this is a positive trend, we still over-incarcerate, especially Black and Brown kids. As a young Black man, I was six times more likely to be locked up than youth of another race or ethnicity.

The injustice didn’t stop when I was released. I was sent home with no support and no plan, expected to somehow succeed. The transition period—one to two months before release through the first six months after—is critical. But no one helped us prepare.

The first days and months at home were brutal. I didn’t know how to interact with people. I was judged. I couldn’t get a job. My friends were dying of overdoses. I moved in with my mom, and soon after, our house was shot up in a drive-by. Then my best friend was killed. I spiraled—became addicted to Xanax and couldn’t go outside.

I was only 17.

My mental health was bad inside, but it got worse when I went home.
I was unprepared for the real world. How was I supposed to go from surviving by any means necessary to suddenly being a model citizen with responsibilities?

Some factors that are critical for a successful transition home are education, employment, and recreation – I’d dropped out of school, couldn’t get a job, and had no positive ways to spend my free time. I was institutionalized and had no motivation. It is important to understand the challenges that young people experience on reentry; some of the guys I knew didn’t have food, clothes, or anywhere to live when they were released. Most of us internalized feelings of worthlessness and shame from our experiences, and without mental health support, those wounds don’t heal. Addressing the psychological needs of youth after incarceration must be part of any serious conversation about reentry.

When I came home, I had no life skills, no resources. So how can we expect returning youth to succeed?

My life didn’t start to turn around until I began changing the people, places, and things I surrounded myself with. I went to outpatient therapy, got clean, and found immediate employment through the Center for Employment Opportunities (CEO), where I joined a transitional work crew that paid me daily.

CEO assigned me a job coach I met with every week to help me prepare for long-term employment. When I needed work clothes and boots, they provided them. They gave me bus vouchers and helped me open my first bank account. I had never ridden a city bus or had a checking account before.

Adolescents released from detention often face enormous disadvantages. But with the right support, programs like the one that helped me can change lives. For that to happen, organizations like CEO must be partnered with youth placement facilities nationwide. Reentry support has to start before release, while youth are still inside.

I was never taught how to set goals. Today, I’m enrolled in trade school and planning to go to college to become a psychologist or recovery specialist so I can help kids who are in the same position I was just a few years ago. I go to therapy, I work every day, and for the first time, I feel valued.

My hopes and dreams for a better life have been reignited.

Is that too much for a kid to ask for?

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