A Message from Tina: As I sit here in the confines of La Vista Women’s Correctional Facility, my heart compels me to speak out—not for my own sake, but for the countless women around me who endure these harsh realities day after day. At 70 years old, having lost my son in service to our country, I find myself wrongfully imprisoned, yet my thoughts turn to these sisters in struggle, many so young and full of potential, trapped in a system that fails them profoundly. The daily grind here is unrelenting. Flashlights pierce the darkness hourly through the night, robbing us of restful sleep. We rise early, navigating a routine that offers little solace. Our basic provisions are meager: three uniform tops and bottoms, five pairs each of underwear, bras, and socks—items so flimsy they fray and tear long before their time. With a mere $13 a month in state pay, these women struggle to afford even the essentials like shampoo, soap, or deodorant. Small comforts, like a treat or extra phone time to connect with loved ones, remain out of reach for so many. To add insult to injury, out of this meager $13 allowance these women are given, every medical visit requires a $3 charge just to be seen. The nourishment we receive falls far short of sustaining body and spirit. Processed fare dominates our trays—tater tots, hot dogs, fish sticks—reminiscent of a child's school lunch, devoid of vitality. It's been over a year since I've tasted a fresh tomato or crisp romaine lettuce. The prison grounds, while aesthetically pleasing with their manicured lawns and blooming flowers, mask a deeper neglect. Why lavish resources on ornamental beauty when fertile land lies ready for cultivation? Imagine transforming those spaces into gardens where these women could learn to plant, harvest, and preserve their own food. Such skills would not only reduce costs but empower them for life beyond these walls, teaching self-sufficiency for all seasons of life. Yet, the true tragedy lies in the absence of meaningful programs. Favoritism runs rampant, with some inmates favored for better placements despite troubled histories, while others languish in general population amid volatility. My own cell, a repurposed laundry room scarcely 40 square feet, forces my roommate and me to maneuver awkwardly, unable to stand simultaneously. Pods house 20 women, rooms crammed with six at a time, fostering tension in an environment ill-suited for rehabilitation. Education and skill-building opportunities are promised but rarely delivered. A class intended for three to four months stretches over a year due to staffing shortages—guards quitting en masse, leaving untrained teachers to fill security roles. This delay not only hinders personal growth but blocks access for others, impacting parole prospects. The parole board, unaware of these barriers, penalizes women for incomplete programs, perpetuating cycles of despair. There's no instruction in practical life skills: balancing finances, organizing one's affairs, or managing savings. An inmate savings program could foster responsibility and provide a foundation to build upon after release, giving so many of these women a chance to break the chains of recidivism. Spiritually, we are starved as well. Church services and the sacred act of worship are granted only once a month—a scant offering for souls seeking guidance and community. In this void, women with low inmate numbers—those who've cycled through the system repeatedly—highlight the failure. There are no tools given to them to thrive outside, leading them back to what they know. Technology lags behind compassion in this place. Unlike other facilities, we lack video visits, denying mothers glimpses of their children or connections with distant, elderly family. Equipment sits unused instead of bridging hearts separated by miles and misfortune. These women—forgotten, idle, bored—deserve better. They could contribute to the prison's upkeep, growing food, maintaining the grounds, or learning trades that would alleviate institutional burdens while building their futures. Prison should repay society's debt through transformation, not stagnation. I see their struggles, hear their stories, and it moves me deeply. Though my own path is unjust, it's their voices that must echo beyond these bars. I will continue to advocate for them, risking retaliation, because silence serves no one. Reform is possible: nutritious meals would go a long way to restore these tired women. Programs committed to educating and more available time to engage in worship would nourish their souls. For the sake of these women, our daughters and sisters, we must demand change. I ask that everyone who reads this take a moment to pray for these women. There is of course a price to pay for the choices that we make in life. Still, we must remain committed to seeing the humanity and inherent value in life and there is no better place to start than those battered hearts and souls in our own nation. Pray for America, for these women I have been humbled to live with this past year, and pray for the truth to set us free.