I Survived 20 Days in Solitary Confinement—Here’s How I Got Through
“Solitude never frightened me. In fact, I welcomed it. When I was a girl, I would envision myself in a cabin in the woods, or a house with a view of a lake or river, doing what I love to do most: writing. I never dreamed I’d be forced into a small enclosure with cold concrete floors and walls made of cinder blocks, where the stench of sour milk—or maybe decomposing carcasses—lingered throughout the facility, a putrid odor as inescapable and abominable as notorious Rikers Island itself. The stink was worse in solitary confinement, or, as we called it, “The Bing” or “The Box.” It was there, where the rotting smell is strongest, that I spent the most important 20 consecutive days of my life.”
