Throughout my time in prison, I felt entitled to various things:
- A bottom bunk
- Being first in line
- Better food
- A specific shower stall
- Space on the track to exercise
- Room in my cubicle
- Seeing my family
- Holding my grandson
- Access to phones
- A better job
- Better pay
- A commuted sentence
- More compassion
- More praise
- A window seat on the van
- Medicine
- A clean blanket
- A specific bathroom stall and sink
- Cleaning supplies
- Leftover cookies in work lunch sacks
Why did I feel this way? Perhaps because I believed I wasn’t as bad as others or had worked harder. My education and socio-economic status made me feel superior. But in reality, I am no more entitled than anyone else. If I got a bottom bunk, someone else would still be on a top bunk. Why should I deserve it over them? I’ve never experienced a top bunk, and they might have been here longer than I have.
I want to learn humility. I want to willingly give up my privileges so others can experience the benefits I’ve always had. I aspire to be the person who lets others go first and takes the last spot. I want to find joy in being last, in giving someone else my last cookie or that piece of cake I really wanted. I can step aside, let someone go ahead of me in line. Offering isn’t being taken advantage of; it’s an act of generosity. I can give and still maintain my boundaries.
How important are these things today? My place in the She-Shack, my spot in the lunch line, which shower I get, sharing a 6×4 cubicle with an untidy person. The truth is, they are zero percent important. Tomorrow, you’ll feel the same about the things you give up today.
Looking back, I feel a deep sense of embarrassment over these entitlements. It’s humbling to realize how trivial and self-centered my demands were, especially when compared to the genuine needs of others. This reflection has taught me that true value lies not in what we claim for ourselves, but in what we willingly give up for the benefit of others.
B2tRUE 