\n\n\n\n
JoyBelle Phelan had never seen herself as a writer. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
She\u2019d always been creative, but that creativity was squashed by an abusive and dysfunctional childhood. She\u2019d always been smart, but as an adopted child, she never felt worthy unless she did something to earn it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But when the opportunity came up to take a 12-week writing course, Phelan was excited. Because at that point \u2014 more than four years into her incarceration in Colorado state prison \u2014 she really was trying to do things differently. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI needed\u2026 to make sure I didn\u2019t come back to prison and that I really turned my life around,\u201d Phelan says. \u201cWriting was absolutely the path by which I was figuring out all the stuff I needed to figure out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And there was a lot for her to process.<\/p>\n\n\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/JOYBELLE-PHELAN_HEADSHOT.jpg\")
At 38 years old, Phelan had found herself in a jail cell after being arrested at her home on felony theft charges. She was trying to buy love from her friends and abusive husband, but she needed money for that, and finances were tight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The judge told Phelan he was sentencing her to eight years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Ultimately, she would serve over 2,000 days in prison. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Some of those days were filled with terror and humiliation. Officers harassed her. Her laundry was returned wet. She had to memorize a number that was assigned to replace her name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But something else happened while Phelan was in prison. She was offered the chance to write. First, as part of that 12-week course, and later, for a newspaper produced by and for incarcerated people like her. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
In July 2020, she became the first woman in her facility to be published in that paper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When the flyers for The Inside Report first appeared in La Vista Correctional Center, Phelan recalls a spokesperson coming to talk about the history of journalism in prisons \u2014 which, in the United States, she was told, dates all the way back to the 1890s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat was really the first time I\u2019d heard about it,\u201d Phelan says. \u201cAnd so [I was] just becoming aware that there are stories to tell everywhere\u2026 there\u2019s a whole wealth of storytelling that will never see the light of day, because these people are incarcerated.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
PRISON JOURNALISM TODAY<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n The Inside Report shut down in 2023. But across the U.S. and Canada, myriad prison journalism initiatives are giving agency and voice to otherwise invisible communities. <\/p>\n\n\n\n One Canadian example is the quarterly newspaper Cell Count, made by and for prisoners with support from the harm-reduction nonprofit PASAN. Another is The Inside Scoop, published by the John Howard Society of Manitoba (JHSM) and written by incarcerated contributors. <\/p>\n\n\n\n There\u2019s also the Journal of Prisoners on Prisons, the only academic journal in the world that collaborates directly with prisoners to produce its research. <\/p>\n\n\n In the U.S., the nonprofit Prison Journalism Project not only publishes incarcerated writers but teaches journalism behind bars. Its co-founder, Shaheen Pasha, says she created the project so incarcerated people can have a say in how their stories are told. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOur writers tell us that the ability to report their experiences from prison has already broken down some of the walls that were built around them,\u201d Pasha wrote in an article for Nieman Reports. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd the realization that they are a part of a budding community of prison journalists has given them an identity that extends far beyond the crimes that have come to define them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n UNTOLD STORIES<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n The walls Pasha spoke about take many forms for prisoners. For one thing, most stories about them are written by people who can\u2019t see them up close. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Reporter Geena Mortfield called attention to these barriers in an article for Canada Press Freedom Project. Although sensationalistic stories may make it to the press, she wrote, little is transmitted about prisoners\u2019 everyday experiences. <\/p>\n\n\n\n But there are many hoops to jump through for journalists who want to tell deeper stories.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In Canada, they must follow the Correctional Service of Canada\u2019s (CSC) Commissioner\u2019s Directives. These require, for example, getting permission to enter a facility or speak to an incarcerated person. Physical dividers may also be required during interviews, at the institution\u2019s discretion, according to the directives. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Mortfield says the approval-seeking process often results in significant delays or reporters being denied interviews altogether. <\/p>\n\n\n\n There are also time limits and costs for prisoners who want to call journalists. And there\u2019s the chance they could be punished for daring to speak. The possibility of having one\u2019s phone privileges revoked is \u201cespecially grave,\u201d Mortfield wrote in the article, since the phone may be a prisoner\u2019s only link to the outside world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Chanelle Lajoie, who works with contributors to JHSM\u2019s Inside Scoop, says this fear of punishment is why some people choose not to share, even when they have the chance. <\/p>\n\n\n \u201cSilence is a form of protection for a lot of people who are experiencing incarceration,\u201d they said. \u201cYou just don’t know where your story is going to go when it’s shared, or what the motive is for someone asking.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n But in the absence of diverse, nuanced stories told by those with lived experience, portrayals of incarcerated people are often one-dimensional and stigmatizing. This was flagged by the Mental Health Commission of Canada in a 2020 report, which recommended addressing negative media representation as a way to improve prisoners\u2019 mental health.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Kevin Walby, co-editor of the <\/em>Journal of Prisoners on Prisons, also emphasized the pervasiveness of stereotypes about this population.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMost people don’t think imprisoned people are creative, are artists, are writers, are as talented as them,\u201d he says. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBut the fact is, people behind bars are every bit as talented as anybody else. And they’re just as concerned as citizens.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n INSIDE THE CANADIAN CARCERAL SYSTEM<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n The CSC, which incarcerates about 15,000 people across 43 institutions, says it often facilitates media interviews with its inmates.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It also maintains an \u201caccess list\u201d with phone numbers prisoners can use, including numbers for \u201clegal offices, volunteer organizations, government entities, and the Office of the Correctional Investigator [OCI],\u201d it said in a written statement to Convergence. <\/p>\n\n\n\n But the OCI itself has been sharply critical of the CSC, citing human rights violations and an overall lack of transparency.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In OCI\u2019s 2023-24 annual report, Correctional Investigator Ivan Zinger said his office\u2019s attempts to obtain vital information from the CSC were \u201cfutile.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n The 2024-25 report was released on Oct. 30, after OCI conducted more than 400 interviews with stakeholders. Among other criticisms, it accused the CSC of using its accreditation as a \u201cshield\u201d to deflect legitimate complaints from prisoners. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Walby, who is also director of the Centre for Access to Information and Justice at the University of Winnipeg, says his own research using Access to Information requests highlighted the importance of hearing from prisoners firsthand. <\/p>\n\n\n\n In the Prison Pandemic Papers, he and his colleagues obtained previously hidden details on how correctional institutions were responding to the COVID-19 crisis. He says the fear was \u201cpalpable\u201d in the written grievances of prisoners they obtained, which revealed how people were begging for more space, more PPE, anything to keep them safer. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd for the most part, the prisons didn\u2019t do anything\u2026 because they said it would be a security threat,\u201d Walby says. <\/p>\n\n\n\n THE PENAL PRESS: A HISTORY<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Yet not that long ago, prisoners\u2019 voices in Canada were celebrated. <\/p>\n\n\n\n What became known as the penal press first emerged in the 1950s, during a period of public interest in prison reform. The press was created as a formalized, government-funded outlet for incarcerated people to share their writing with the free world. <\/p>\n\n\n\n During the press\u2019s golden era in the 1950s and \u201860s, incarcerated people formed fully-fledged newsrooms. They didn\u2019t just write material. They were editors and designers. They even ran their own printing presses, which were housed within institutions. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Today, Okanagan College professor Melissa Munn manages a digital archive of penal press writing. She says one of the biggest differences from today\u2019s prison journalism is the level of support and influence writers once had. <\/p>\n\n\n\n But in the mid-1960s, sweeping changes came to prisons. Mass redistributions of prisoners led to a decline in the production of prison newspapers. Political sentiment also shifted over time, and with the proliferation of the \u201ccrackdown on crime\u201d ethos of the \u201880s, the institutional penal press all but disappeared, Munn says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Munn\u2019s former professor, Robert Gaucher, started the penal press archive after amassing a personal collection of more than 1,300 issues. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Munn took over and digitized the archive when Gaucher retired. She says what strikes her about the work is just how \u201cahead of its time\u201d it is. <\/p>\n\n\n\n In the \u201850s, writers were advocating for specialized drug courts, and in the \u201860s and \u201870s, they were calling to reduce plastic, she says. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThat\u2019s way before we started doing anything like that in the mainstream. So I like to think that what the prisoners have done exceptionally well over the years is plant the seeds for discussion,\u201d Munn says. <\/p>\n\n\n\n What remains today are mostly grassroots publications, which lack institutional funding or support. <\/p>\n\n\n\n But we\u2019ve also entered an era where prisoners are more afraid of being punished for their writing, says Munn. \u201cAnd that\u2019s a huge reversal from where the writers in the press were originally esteemed and revered.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n NAVIGATING CENSORSHIP<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n That may be why Phelan recalled many stories in The Inside Report as \u201cshiny.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n She didn\u2019t blame the writers, because she knew she was only able to read what had been approved by the Department of Corrections. <\/p>\n\n\n\n She herself wrote a story during the COVID-19 pandemic, using copies of The Denver Post to track how many people were dying. But she says the piece was never even submitted because the paper\u2019s advisor told her it would never get past reviewers. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Editors of prison publications must find this balance too \u2014 retaining as much of a story\u2019s authenticity as possible, but not so much authenticity that it won\u2019t be allowed into an institution. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The outgoing editor of Cell Count, Sena Hussain, says this is a skill she had to develop over her almost nine years at the paper. She always had to anticipate where the lines might be, she says, because what was considered acceptable was always a moving target.<\/p>\n\n\n Hussain recalled her connection with one prisoner, Moka Dawkins, a Canadian trans woman who spent four years in a men\u2019s prison. Dawkins wanted to write an article for Cell Count about the transphobia she was experiencing, but she was worried her submission would be intercepted on the way out. So she would call Hussain to dictate her article, in 20-minute increments over a period of several weeks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Inside Scoop editor Anna Sigrithur said she also wrestles with this, but has learned a few creative workarounds to push back against institutional censorship.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One example she gave involved an article written by a group of remand prisoners in a JHSM literacy class. With help from an instructor, the prisoners had reviewed the Manitoba Auditor General’s recommendations for preparing people to exit custody, then developed their own recommendations based on lived experience. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Sigrithur said when reviewers pushed back against the \u201cpolitical\u201d nature of the piece, she emphasized the importance of practicing critical thinking. She told reviewers that this was a public document directly affecting students\u2019 lives, and the students had a right to meaningfully engage with its ideas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That worked. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Still, it\u2019s a common occurrence for issues to bounce back. Walby says one issue of the Journal of Prisoners on Prisons was returned by every institution in California because of its content on the Black Panther Party. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSometimes they\u2019ll say something like, \u2018This was designated as contraband\u2026\u2019 and then we\u2019ll have to fight that and usually we\u2019re able to overturn it,\u201d Walby says. <\/p>\n\n\n\n People on the inside also take part in these fights. Hussain says some prisoners care about Cell Count so much that they advocate for it directly to the warden or other officials. <\/p>\n\n\n\n And sometimes publications get banned altogether. In 2016, both Cell Count and the Journal of Prisoners on Prisons were prohibited in all provincial institutions in B.C. According to a series of publicly released emails, the B.C. Ministry of Safety gave reasons including \u201cnegative content\u201d and \u201canti-corrections messaging.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n One prisoner, whose name is redacted in the emails, enlisted Prisoners\u2019 Legal Service (PLS) to advocate on his behalf. \u201cIt is our position that this decision is a violation of [redacted]\u2019s rights,\u201d a PLS advocate wrote in one of the emails. \u201cThese publications [are] the only way for him to positively voice his opinions\u2026 and to find news and stories that directly affect [him].\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n The ban on the Journal of Prisoners on Prisons was lifted, according to the email thread, but Hussain says Cell Count is still prohibited in B.C.<\/p>\n\n\n\n FROM THE INSIDE OUT<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n But the voices of prisoners are still getting out, and that\u2019s partly because many outlets publish online. So even if an issue doesn\u2019t make it inside a facility, its content will still be accessible to the public. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Non-incarcerated readers include academics and researchers, social service workers, and prisoners\u2019 friends and family. They also include people with no direct connection, who might simply be curious or stumble upon the work. <\/p>\n\n\n\n This year, The Inside Scoop made changes to better engage its non-incarcerated audience. The editorial team encouraged more first-person storytelling and added a few new sections to the paper. People have responded very positively, Sigrithur says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Dream Canteen is one of the new sections, which invites writers to share items they wish they could buy in prison. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c[It\u2019s] our strategic way for demonstrating to a non-prison audience just how limited and under-resourced and inaccessible things are to people in jail,\u201d says Sigrithur. \u201cI think it has really done some good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere\u2019s\u00a0definitely been\u00a0lots and lots of\u00a0comments from [non-incarcerated readers]\u00a0… who have been like, \u2018Wow, I didn\u2019t realize about this.\u2019\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Inside Scoop and Cell Count are also widely read by people in social services, who may have justice-involved clients, but lack their own lived experience. <\/p>\n\n\n\n RJ Chevalier, Cell Count\u2019s incoming editor, says they\u2019re able to reach this audience through PASAN, the nonprofit that publishes the paper. They often meet staff at prison health fairs, Chevalier says, who then discover Cell Count while tabling inside a facility. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cJust this past month, I\u2019ve had people coming back and asking, how can they receive it?\u201d they said. \u201cThey want to share it with their colleagues at their workplace.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n This type of readership can help amplify prisoners\u2019 work. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMaybe we can\u2019t push in certain ways…, because if we do, then we lose institutional access,\u201d Sigrithur says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But she says they can still publish writing exercises from their literacy classes in a more neutral way, which advocacy groups can use to push a little harder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And of course, free journalists can read the work too. Munn says there\u2019s much to be gained from journalists\u2019 engagement with this writing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n For one thing, she says, it offers a window into the \u201cmundane\u201d \u2014 those stories of prisoners\u2019 everyday lives that are otherwise impossible for journalists to tell fully. This was the idea behind an article Munn co-authored, in which she used archival material to show how people have experienced Christmas while incarcerated. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Munn says it\u2019s also a way for journalists to stay informed about human rights concerns. And once journalists know those issues, they can lead deeper inquiries that spark public interest, she says. <\/p>\n\n\n\n MOVING THE WORK FORWARD<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n Phelan\u2019s ideas for how free journalists can help included publishing the work of incarcerated writers, or even teaching journalism behind bars through initiatives like Prison Journalism Project.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She says her own journey since prison is both exhausting and satisfying to think about. <\/p>\n\n\n\n She re-entered the free world in December 2020, just a few months after her first article was published. Two years later, she was on a TEDx stage. <\/p>\n\n\n\n And in 2022, she was hired as managing editor of The Inside Report.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But her own time with the Department of Corrections wasn\u2019t quite finished. In February 2023, she collaborated with the department to start her own prison program. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Today, Unbound Authors, the nonprofit Phelan co-founded, mentors more than 500 incarcerated writers. And in 2025, it was approved to start a state-wide newspaper, magazine and an anthology.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIt\u2019s interesting to be a formerly incarcerated person now in a contract with the Department of Corrections,\u201d Phelan says. \u201cAs [someone] who has served my time, do I love always having to be still guided by the policies and procedures of the [department]? Not always.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n But she says the most important thing is continuing her work with imprisoned writers. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI found my passion and my soul\u2019s purpose while I was incarcerated,\u201d she says. \u201cSo will I jump through the hoops they put in front of me? Yeah, I will.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cGetting their stories out into the world is a hugely satisfying thing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" By Shaina List JoyBelle Phelan had never seen herself as a writer. She\u2019d always been creative, but that creativity was squashed by an abusive and dysfunctional childhood. She\u2019d always been smart, but as an adopted child, she never felt worthy unless she did something to earn it. But when the opportunity came up to take […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":5188,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":true,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_uag_custom_page_level_css":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[353,1],"tags":[],"uagb_featured_image_src":{"full":["https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/emiliano-bar-PaKHbtTDqt0-unsplash-scaled.jpg",2560,1700,false],"thumbnail":["https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/emiliano-bar-PaKHbtTDqt0-unsplash-160x160.jpg",160,160,true],"medium":["https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/emiliano-bar-PaKHbtTDqt0-unsplash-640x425.jpg",640,425,true],"medium_large":["https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/emiliano-bar-PaKHbtTDqt0-unsplash-768x510.jpg",696,462,true],"large":["https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/emiliano-bar-PaKHbtTDqt0-unsplash-1280x850.jpg",696,462,true],"1536x1536":["https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/emiliano-bar-PaKHbtTDqt0-unsplash-1536x1020.jpg",1536,1020,true],"2048x2048":["https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/emiliano-bar-PaKHbtTDqt0-unsplash-2048x1360.jpg",2048,1360,true],"td_150x0":["https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/emiliano-bar-PaKHbtTDqt0-unsplash-150x100.jpg",150,100,true],"td_218x150":["https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/emiliano-bar-PaKHbtTDqt0-unsplash-218x150.jpg",218,150,true],"td_300x0":["https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/emiliano-bar-PaKHbtTDqt0-unsplash-300x199.jpg",300,199,true],"td_324x400":["https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/emiliano-bar-PaKHbtTDqt0-unsplash-324x400.jpg",324,400,true],"td_485x360":["https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/emiliano-bar-PaKHbtTDqt0-unsplash-485x360.jpg",485,360,true],"td_696x0":["https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/emiliano-bar-PaKHbtTDqt0-unsplash-696x462.jpg",696,462,true],"td_1068x0":["https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/emiliano-bar-PaKHbtTDqt0-unsplash-1068x709.jpg",1068,709,true],"td_1920x0":["https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/emiliano-bar-PaKHbtTDqt0-unsplash-1920x1275.jpg",1920,1275,true]},"uagb_author_info":{"display_name":"convergencemag","author_link":"https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/author\/convergencemag\/"},"uagb_comment_info":0,"uagb_excerpt":"By Shaina List JoyBelle Phelan had never seen herself as a writer. She\u2019d always been creative, but that creativity was squashed by an abusive and dysfunctional childhood. She\u2019d always been smart, but as an adopted child, she never felt worthy unless she did something to earn it. But when the opportunity came up to take…","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5175"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5175"}],"version-history":[{"count":24,"href":"https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5175\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5354,"href":"https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5175\/revisions\/5354"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5188"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5175"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5175"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5175"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"\"](\"https:\/\/humberjournalism.com\/convergencemag\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/2\/2026\/02\/Journal_of_Prisoners.png\")
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