I recently had the privilege to visit CSP-Solano for a work-related event, where members of the incarcerated population hosted a food-sale drive to benefit several local community organizations, including the one I work for. I bet some of you are puzzled by my use of "privilege" when talking about going to prison.

I've never set foot in a prison (thankfully), so I truly didn't know what to expect after being processed in and escorted past multiple guards, barbed gates, and bars to attend the awards ceremony inside the population's gymnasium. Spoiler alert: I was utterly shocked by how warm, uplifting, and electric the energy felt in the room, where two-thirds was filled by men in blue jumpsuits, yet what I saw first were people.

After being presented the check and speaking about the profound impact they are making by doing good in the community, I was approached by so many individuals who were eager to share what led them to their sentence, what they've learned since, and how eager they are to be in my shoes; to give back to the communities they took so much from.

I shared laughs, stories, handshakes, tears, and even tight hugs with people who are, in many ways, just a few missteps away from my own life path. People who fell into the wrong crowds, made devastating decisions, and in some cases, took lives. Irreversible and terrible decisions, and none of that is erased—but what struck me most was this: there was a glimmer of hope for redemption in each of their eyes.

Many of the men I met are also aspiring artists. CSP–Solano is planning to host canvas painting classes, and I’d love to support that effort by donating paint kits. They already have canvases, but informed me that they rely heavily on donations to make classes like these happen. As both an artist and humanist, I want to promote their ability to reflect and foster that creative energy in a place where those things are often scarce.

If you’re able and willing, I’m inviting folks to donate $10 to help support creativity and art access for these individuals. It’s a small gesture rooted in a belief I hold deeply: that recognizing someone’s humanity does not excuse their past—it affirms our shared responsibility to build something better.

This experience was eye-opening, grounding, and genuinely life-changing. Hoping some of you can help me make this happen.