Healing, Hope, and Building Community on Rikers Island
by Vidya
In the summer of 2022, I worked in an enhanced restraint housing unit on Rikers Island in the role of a mandated program counselor, where I was required to spend 6 out of 7 hours of my day on the floor of housing units, programming with individuals that had recently been involved in an act of violence. Almost everyone I worked with was gang-affiliated, a previous felon, and had been involved in violent acts—this is not a judgment, but a fact they would tell you themselves.
Since 2016, Rikers Island has operated under a housing policy based on gang affiliations, allowing individuals to live alongside their own members and avoid their opposition. However, that summer, a decision was made to mix all housing units, regardless of affiliation, without notice, creating chaos, as people who had trusted alliances were now navigating being split up and fighting to survive. Every day I counseled individuals who showed me the scars from fresh fights, telling me, “We’ll fight until we can’t anymore.”
During this time, I met a man named John in his 30s, who had been in and out of prison since he was a young teen. One day, John confided in me that in all his years of incarceration, he’d never attended a program, yet here he was. As we talked, John shared that jail was comfortable, and fighting came easy, but he was haunted by the thought of life outside, and whether success was even possible for someone like him.
When he told me about his first charge, I pointed out how young he was and suggested that, at that age, his basic needs were likely not met. From there, we discussed choice, consequences, and self-compassion. I shared the concept of restorative justice, and to my surprise, he expressed a strong interest in it. For over a year, we worked together until his release, and during that time, I witnessed the internal battle he waged—a war between hope and despair. At times, John was optimistic, but his doubts often convinced him he’d never make it out.
Recently, I reconnected with John and he’s managed to stay out of the streets and drop his affiliation, prioritizing his freedom over anything else. When I asked John how my program had affected him and others, he told me that my approach worked because I wasn’t afraid to stand in the tension and engage with them on everything from police violence to favorite meals. Those conversations broke down barriers and allowed the men to talk freely, even after I had left for the day. We’d built a true sense of community, even within a jail—an accomplishment statistics would say is impossible in a space like a “mixed house.”
During my time on Rikers, my role was to offer people like John healing by genuinely seeing them, hearing them, and supporting them without judgment. John’s story is just one of millions. Society often fears violent offenders, but I believe our most violent are also our most vulnerable. People who have spent decades in the system need our love, services, and support. Most importantly, we need to dismantle the barriers that prevent them from living safely and freely outside.
I hold immense gratitude for the men I worked with on Rikers, who taught me that a lifetime of healing is possible. With the right support, every one of them has the potential to achieve the freedom they never thought possible.