Bridget, we are standing with you publicly because what happened in your comments deserves a public response.
At the Appleberry Prison Foundation, we walk alongside families navigating incarceration and reentry every day — mothers, grandmothers, wives, children, fathers. What we have learned in this work is that the families who carry this experience are not a monolith. They are white, Black, Brown, rural, suburban, urban, wealthy, poor, college-educated, GED, religious, secular. The one thing they share is the crushing weight of a system that punishes them alongside their loved one, and a culture that tells them to be quiet about it.
You broke that silence. At the exact moment most white middle-class mothers in your position hide their sons in shame — bury the story, scrub the social media, lie at dinner parties — you sat down and told the truth in public. That is not clickbait. That is the work. It is the work because you are who you are, not in spite of it. The stigma we are trying to dismantle lives loudest in the communities that believe incarceration only happens to “other people’s” sons. Your voice reaches rooms ours cannot.
The comment leveled at you is the exact divisive logic that keeps families like the ones we serve isolated. When we decide in advance who is “allowed” to grieve a child’s incarceration, who is “allowed” to write about reentry, who has “earned” the right to speak — we do not protect marginalized families. We abandon them. We tell the Black mother and the White mother and the Brown mother that they cannot stand in the same room together, cannot recognize each other, cannot build the coalition that is the only thing that has ever moved the meter on criminal justice. Them-versus-us thinking does not redistribute power. It guarantees the people in power keep it.
Your ACEs score, your stepfather, your mother in jail, your teen jury trial, the part-time jobs you worked through graduate school while raising three children — none of that was owed as proof. You should not have had to lay it on the table to earn the right to speak about your own son. But, the fact that you did, with that much clarity and that little self-pity, is exactly why your writing matters.
To the families reading this who recognize themselves in Bridget’s story and are scared to speak… you are not alone. There is a growing community of us who refuse to let shame be the price of admission to the conversation about our loved ones. Your story belongs to you.
By the way… this is coming from some of those “black people on Substack”.
Bridget — enjoy your son’s homecoming. Reentry is sacred, hard, beautiful work, and it deserves your full presence. We are cheering from Washington State.
Bridget, this landed right in our hearts. You are not alone — not now, not on the hard days of reentry that no one warns you about, not when the next troll shows up in your comments (and they will, because you are doing work that matters).
We forever have your back. Full stop. When your voice gets tired, ours will be right here. When you need a family who already speaks this language fluently, you have one in Washington State. And when you are ready to build something bigger together — coalition, advocacy, a louder chorus of mothers who refuse to be quiet — we are in.
Go love on your son this weekend. We will be holding the line. 🧡
Bridget sometimes you go to take that first sip of coffee in the morning (after carefully preparing the coffee maker the night before and setting the timer to coincide with your need you pour) just to find a fly in the cup as you begin to take that first sip.
Pour it out and grab a clean cup and try again! Don’t let that nasty ol fly define your day!
Congrats on responding with class and candor. We all know “Haytahs gonna hate”. The irony of calling you out for being negative, while illustrating nothing but negativity and judgement, did not go unnoticed. I think getting support, especially when going thru difficult times, should be applauded and encouraged. Too bad she couldn’t offer that instead. Just because you have an opinion, also doesn’t mean it needed to be shared. Was it helpful or kind? In this case, it was neither, and hiding in anonymity behind a keyboard is where many people find the “courage” to “bless” us with their judgement.
Bridget, the force of this essay comes from refusing to let anyone reduce your life, your son, or your advocacy to a convenient caricature. You name something important about justice-impacted families: silence often protects respectability while leaving people alone with shame, fear, phone calls, court dates, prison visits, and all the ordinary heartbreak that never makes it into policy language. I was especially struck by “I refuse to let Other be Other,” because that is the moral center of the work you are doing here. Thank you for telling the truth from the complicated middle, where pain, privilege, accountability, advocacy, motherhood, and public courage all have to be held at once.
Bridget, that is exactly why your voice matters. There are people who need more than analysis or outrage; they need someone willing to keep telling the truth while also making room for embrace, dignity, and belonging. Keep talking. The people who have been made to feel alone inside these systems need witnesses who refuse to disappear when the story gets complicated.
I will never understand the white ladies who think they are advocating for the underpriviledged's needs, but are actually offending and fucking over everyone in their wake. This woman is disgusting.
It's a shame that she couldn't present her concerns with the goal of understanding and challenging your points. Comments like hers aren't made for a meaningful discussion. They honestly have no meaningful qualms. Maybe she had a fair point in the weeds of her insults? we could have learned something new from her? Nope. Such a waste.
Please send me an address where I can send you the "Best Mom Ever" mug!!! But seriously, I was angry when I read this and then realized anger is not what I really feel. I feel sad. EVERY day of my life (not exaggerating) the words, "why are people so mean" comes out of my mouth. When I read something like what she posted I think my God how unhappy she must be. I've been on Substack for awhile and you are the first I've seen posting about an incarcerated child. Who gives a damn what your motives are! Keep posting <3
Exactly it. When I calmed down, I was sad for the collective us. Sad that this is why people hide. Sad for her that she lives her life so petty, so divisive. We have to stick together, and that's how we get through.
Ooooh this had me in a fury of feelings and I don't mean fury in any light way at all. I am so comforted to read this post as you took the words right out of my mouth, although they started with some really loud curse words you've made your point in a much more sophisticated and firm manner. Being white and working to take trauma education and healing into prison alongside my white husband who spent just under three decades incarcerated, I have certainly come across my share of... shall we say... negative nancy's? I have 6 ACEs, and I've met an incredible amount of people with horrifying heartbreaking stories inside and I work to advocate for those voices every day. And guess what? Some of them, too, come from a seemingly "good" life for what we see on the surface. I highly appreciate your vulnerability of sharing your story here, and laying it all out on the table so to speak. I bet that coffee tastes damn good because you know what it's like to not take anything for granted and that is a lesson we should always be reminded of. I am proud of you for the work you do and we need more people like you here. I am grateful your son is home and look forward to staying connected to your story. It's a breath of fresh air to read your words, I'm over here fist pumping the air as your cheerleader so keep going! More of this, please. :)
Bridget, we are standing with you publicly because what happened in your comments deserves a public response.
At the Appleberry Prison Foundation, we walk alongside families navigating incarceration and reentry every day — mothers, grandmothers, wives, children, fathers. What we have learned in this work is that the families who carry this experience are not a monolith. They are white, Black, Brown, rural, suburban, urban, wealthy, poor, college-educated, GED, religious, secular. The one thing they share is the crushing weight of a system that punishes them alongside their loved one, and a culture that tells them to be quiet about it.
You broke that silence. At the exact moment most white middle-class mothers in your position hide their sons in shame — bury the story, scrub the social media, lie at dinner parties — you sat down and told the truth in public. That is not clickbait. That is the work. It is the work because you are who you are, not in spite of it. The stigma we are trying to dismantle lives loudest in the communities that believe incarceration only happens to “other people’s” sons. Your voice reaches rooms ours cannot.
The comment leveled at you is the exact divisive logic that keeps families like the ones we serve isolated. When we decide in advance who is “allowed” to grieve a child’s incarceration, who is “allowed” to write about reentry, who has “earned” the right to speak — we do not protect marginalized families. We abandon them. We tell the Black mother and the White mother and the Brown mother that they cannot stand in the same room together, cannot recognize each other, cannot build the coalition that is the only thing that has ever moved the meter on criminal justice. Them-versus-us thinking does not redistribute power. It guarantees the people in power keep it.
Your ACEs score, your stepfather, your mother in jail, your teen jury trial, the part-time jobs you worked through graduate school while raising three children — none of that was owed as proof. You should not have had to lay it on the table to earn the right to speak about your own son. But, the fact that you did, with that much clarity and that little self-pity, is exactly why your writing matters.
To the families reading this who recognize themselves in Bridget’s story and are scared to speak… you are not alone. There is a growing community of us who refuse to let shame be the price of admission to the conversation about our loved ones. Your story belongs to you.
By the way… this is coming from some of those “black people on Substack”.
Bridget — enjoy your son’s homecoming. Reentry is sacred, hard, beautiful work, and it deserves your full presence. We are cheering from Washington State.
Whew, preeeeeaaach! You said it even better. Thank you for reminding me that we're not alone and shame isn't required. Love you for it.
Bridget, this landed right in our hearts. You are not alone — not now, not on the hard days of reentry that no one warns you about, not when the next troll shows up in your comments (and they will, because you are doing work that matters).
We forever have your back. Full stop. When your voice gets tired, ours will be right here. When you need a family who already speaks this language fluently, you have one in Washington State. And when you are ready to build something bigger together — coalition, advocacy, a louder chorus of mothers who refuse to be quiet — we are in.
Go love on your son this weekend. We will be holding the line. 🧡
*Ahem*
F**k 'em
I had more colorful language in the drafts... so, thank you for recognizing the sentiment.
Bridget sometimes you go to take that first sip of coffee in the morning (after carefully preparing the coffee maker the night before and setting the timer to coincide with your need you pour) just to find a fly in the cup as you begin to take that first sip.
Pour it out and grab a clean cup and try again! Don’t let that nasty ol fly define your day!
Truth! Shoo fly!!
You did good. As my dad used to say, “there are more horses asses than horses.”
😂 Gotta love a dad who speaks truth. Indeed there are.
Congrats on responding with class and candor. We all know “Haytahs gonna hate”. The irony of calling you out for being negative, while illustrating nothing but negativity and judgement, did not go unnoticed. I think getting support, especially when going thru difficult times, should be applauded and encouraged. Too bad she couldn’t offer that instead. Just because you have an opinion, also doesn’t mean it needed to be shared. Was it helpful or kind? In this case, it was neither, and hiding in anonymity behind a keyboard is where many people find the “courage” to “bless” us with their judgement.
Also congrats on the increase in viewership!
The irony is almost hilarious. She is a walking, sad contradiction.
👏👏👏 This is exactly how true change begins 👏👏👏
I'm with you!! Let's do this.
Bridget, the force of this essay comes from refusing to let anyone reduce your life, your son, or your advocacy to a convenient caricature. You name something important about justice-impacted families: silence often protects respectability while leaving people alone with shame, fear, phone calls, court dates, prison visits, and all the ordinary heartbreak that never makes it into policy language. I was especially struck by “I refuse to let Other be Other,” because that is the moral center of the work you are doing here. Thank you for telling the truth from the complicated middle, where pain, privilege, accountability, advocacy, motherhood, and public courage all have to be held at once.
I'm gonna keep talking... as long as there are people to embrace. So, forever.
Bridget, that is exactly why your voice matters. There are people who need more than analysis or outrage; they need someone willing to keep telling the truth while also making room for embrace, dignity, and belonging. Keep talking. The people who have been made to feel alone inside these systems need witnesses who refuse to disappear when the story gets complicated.
I will never understand the white ladies who think they are advocating for the underpriviledged's needs, but are actually offending and fucking over everyone in their wake. This woman is disgusting.
So gross.... girl, why are they this way?
they must be bored.
I mean, that's the best case scenario...
Well said.
Thanks, Caroline. 🖤
As a white lady and mother with no trauma nver ever, not once, absolutely not ever, would love a Best Mom Ever mug.
I better start a list! Thank you for being here. 🖤
It's a shame that she couldn't present her concerns with the goal of understanding and challenging your points. Comments like hers aren't made for a meaningful discussion. They honestly have no meaningful qualms. Maybe she had a fair point in the weeds of her insults? we could have learned something new from her? Nope. Such a waste.
I think the internet and world for that matter would be a better place if people still had a fear of being punched in the mouth.
Maybe you're right....
Please send me an address where I can send you the "Best Mom Ever" mug!!! But seriously, I was angry when I read this and then realized anger is not what I really feel. I feel sad. EVERY day of my life (not exaggerating) the words, "why are people so mean" comes out of my mouth. When I read something like what she posted I think my God how unhappy she must be. I've been on Substack for awhile and you are the first I've seen posting about an incarcerated child. Who gives a damn what your motives are! Keep posting <3
Exactly it. When I calmed down, I was sad for the collective us. Sad that this is why people hide. Sad for her that she lives her life so petty, so divisive. We have to stick together, and that's how we get through.
YES to the Best Mom Ever mug!!
I wanted to stand up and cheer reading this. So impressed with you and so grateful we connected! ❤️
Ma'am, you're getting as many as you want for free. Love you, dearly, and thanks for having my back this week. 🖤
This was so well done.
And, sadly, I can see myself in this.
Noted - and going to go do some work on myself.
Thanks for calling out and calling white women in.
So much work to be done.
Thank you for being one of the insightful among us. We all have work to do! 🖤
So much work to do.
Only if the mug says Best BLACK SHEEP Mom ever. Maybe a Substack artist listening in can design it?
Ooooh this had me in a fury of feelings and I don't mean fury in any light way at all. I am so comforted to read this post as you took the words right out of my mouth, although they started with some really loud curse words you've made your point in a much more sophisticated and firm manner. Being white and working to take trauma education and healing into prison alongside my white husband who spent just under three decades incarcerated, I have certainly come across my share of... shall we say... negative nancy's? I have 6 ACEs, and I've met an incredible amount of people with horrifying heartbreaking stories inside and I work to advocate for those voices every day. And guess what? Some of them, too, come from a seemingly "good" life for what we see on the surface. I highly appreciate your vulnerability of sharing your story here, and laying it all out on the table so to speak. I bet that coffee tastes damn good because you know what it's like to not take anything for granted and that is a lesson we should always be reminded of. I am proud of you for the work you do and we need more people like you here. I am grateful your son is home and look forward to staying connected to your story. It's a breath of fresh air to read your words, I'm over here fist pumping the air as your cheerleader so keep going! More of this, please. :)