This piece was published in coordination with Zealous, an organization working to amplify the perspective of historically overlooked voices. It was written with the support of the Civil Rights Corps.
As the bases hoisted me into the air for the last elevator lift in our final cheer competition this year, I threw my right arm up straight above me, left hand on my hip, and smiled big at the crowd. I spotted my mom cheering, and I smiled even wider.
But when I found my mom in the stands, I got a little sad, too, because my dad wasn’t there to see me.
This summer, I turned 13. I’m excited to finally be allowed to go to the summer fairs by myself and to babysit and earn my own money. Michigan has beautiful lakes and beaches, and I got to celebrate my birthday in the sunshine.
I’m just like any other kid my age. I love jumping on the trampoline, having sleepovers with my friends, and going to the mall. I work hard at school and do better in subjects that I enjoy more, like medical detectives class. But the reality is that something is different in my life right now: My dad has been in the St. Clair County Jail in Port Huron, Michigan, since October, and I’m not allowed to see him. So, other kids and I sued the county and others for the right to hug our parents, as part of a larger Right 2 Hug project that aims to restore family visits and stop companies from making money off family separation.
I miss my dad coming to all my games and competitions. My favorite activity is dance, especially jazz. I’m also in volleyball, softball, band, and cheer. I love the feeling of being on stage. Performances can be nerve-wracking, but I shake it off and remind myself that I know what I’m doing because I’ve practiced. Then I just go for it.
But it helped when my dad was there. My dad is goofy and he gives me confidence. He could always make me giggle and take a deep breath. At every single performance, even the shaky ones, my dad was proud of me. The truth is, I wonder now if his face looks different.
In America, around 5 million children like me have experienced a parent being incarcerated at some point in their life. If we look at this as a chronic health problem, being a kid with a parent in jail or prison would be one of the most common, right up there with asthma. Separating families might be normal, but it’s not okay, and even as kids, we can fight back.
When my dad first went to jail, I thought it would be like what I see on TV — with gray visiting rooms and metal tables where people can hug each other, then sit together and talk. But it’s not like that. I can’t hug or sit with my dad at all.
The jail my dad is in got rid of in-person visits in 2018 and replaced them with phone and video calls only, according to the county’s court filings. This is happening all over the country, meaning lots of kids like me can’t spend any time together with their parents.
I really don’t like talking on the phone, and the phone calls are so expensive, but the video calls are even worse. The calls are so glitchy and rarely work right. After my mom paid for a video call and it didn’t work, we gave up trying to use those because you don’t get your money back. I was so upset and disappointed.
Now I just message my dad on the app that the jail uses, but it’s not at all like actually talking to him. It’s not like DMs or texting; it’s more like email, and it’s really clunky to use. I get overwhelmed — I can’t capture everything I’m feeling in a message, and I feel pressure to say the right thing. It feels like confusing homework to sit down and write a long message update. I wish so badly I could just sit with my dad and tell him things face-to face.
Plus, I think it’s really creepy that someone can read all the messages between me and my dad. All communication between us is recorded — the video calls, phone calls, messages. Talk about a major invasion of privacy.
After I do update my dad, I don’t get to hear his voice or see his expressions. In our electronic messages, I can’t tell how he is really feeling or if he is okay.
Before my dad was in jail, I saw him every week. My mom and dad are not together, but they both love me very much and support each other with respect and kindness. In the summertime, my dad would take me to the beach or park, and in the winter, we’d go to my grandma’s and watch movies. My dad loves to cook, and his BLT sandwiches are my favorite.
Now my dad has missed out on a lot of important family milestones. One of my sisters met her boyfriend right after my dad went to jail. She wants him to meet our dad, but it’s impossible to visit.
My oldest sister recently had a baby. Every time I see him he’s different. He just started smiling, and he looks so cute in blue. But he doesn’t know his grandfather yet.
Also, my great-grandma died just before Christmas, and it devastated my dad not to see her. And it was really hard for the rest of our family not to sit together and support each other through the tears. It’s not just the person in jail that suffers; it’s also the kids, parents, siblings, babies — everyone.
When my sister and I met an investigator from Civil Rights Corps, she told us the jail used to let families see one another but changed its policy in 2018. According to records requested by our lawyers, after in-person visits were banned, the jail started making way more money from people trying to talk to their loved ones — from a bit more than $155,000 before the policy change to around $400,000 (if not more) each year since then.
If the jail has fewer people in it or families don’t pay for enough calls, the jail will lose money. In fact, in response to a similar lawsuit from the Right 2 Hug campaign in Genesee County, Michigan — where the jail had also replaced in-person visits with video calls — the sheriff admitted in an interview with NBC that they had eliminated in-person visitation to make more money.
It makes me so mad. The government shouldn’t make money off of people like my dad and my family. The government should do everything it can to keep families together.
My dad’s release date is soon, and I’m excited to see him again. But I won’t stop fighting in this lawsuit, because I’m also fighting for all the other families who can’t visit their loved ones.
We’re arguing that the government has to have a really, really good reason to keep kids apart from their parents, and making money is not an excuse to separate families. If we win, we hope it will force every jail in Michigan to let families visit their loved ones in person. I can’t wait to finally hug my dad. No kid should have to wait so long.
Editor’s note: The press officer for the St. County Clair Sheriff’s Office declined to comment, while Genesee County did not respond to Teen Vogue's request for comment. In an email, Securus Technologies, the telecommunications company that operates the virtual visits, noted that the claims against St. Clair County were dismissed in court, “which should result in the dismissal of claims against Securus as well.” The spokesperson added, “Virtual connections are a strong complement to in-person visits, allowing incarcerated individuals to stay in touch with loved ones when their sentence places them in a correction facility far from home; or when other circumstances like illness, job, or family commitments make in person visits difficult.” Responding to the Court’s decision, Civil Rights Corps said, “Certain claims were dismissed because the local judge in St. Clair County decided that children and parents have no constitutional right to visit in-person. We plan to appeal this cruel decision because we think the ruling is plainly wrong."
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