Last weekend, I went to the Returning Citizens Luncheon in Virginia. It was the second year in a row I went. This event is hosted by The League for Safer Streets, an organization dedicated to supporting formerly incarcerated individuals as they rebuild their lives and communities.
I attended as part of White Men for Racial Justice, a community of white men committed to using their privilege and power to dismantle systems of supremacy (white, male, and wealth) so that everyone has access to equitable resources to reach their full potential and live in diverse, joyful communities.
I remembered last year so vividly. Walking into a room filled with people who had recently been released from prison. Collectively, they'd served what I estimated to be around 3,000 years behind bars. One might expect to see hardness, anger, protection, or certainly wariness. Instead, I found one of the purest expressions of joy and celebration I'd ever witnessed.
This year, I knew that I was walking into a celebration. And I wondered if lightning could strike twice. I knew it would be joyful. I knew these weren't "hardened criminals" but transformed human beings. But could I be as moved the second time around?
The answer came the moment Malie saw me. We had met the night before at a more intimate dinner at District in Portsmouth, VA.
He rushed over and embraced me like I'd been part of his family for decades. Not a polite handshake or a quick hug, but a full-heart embrace that most people just don't know how to give. You put everything into it. All your love, all your emotion. It's not a body hug. It's not even a heart hug. It's a full love hug.
That's when I knew. If anything, this year might hit me even deeper.
The Song Made Real
There's a song by Taj Mahal and Keb' Mo' called "Room on the Porch." The chorus goes: "Come on up, there's room on the porch for everyone."
At the Returning Citizen's Luncheon, I watched that song come to life.
These men had every reason to hate people like me. They'd been failed by systems run by people who look like me. Judged, dismissed, warehoused. Yet they stepped off their porch and invited me and my WMRJ brothers onto theirs. Then they welcomed us to their table. Not just tolerated us but they loved us.
An Unlikely Friendship
Before the luncheon, I sat down with Carlos Walker, a friend I'd met at last year's event. Carlos is an artist and author who wrote "What If". A fictional story about the history of the US with racial roles reversed. It's a brilliant way to build empathy by asking: what would you be doing if you were on the other side?
Carlos and I have stayed in touch, building a deep friendship. We talked for an hour about life, love, trees, everything that matters.
A few weeks ago, he texted and asked what was inspiring me lately. I mentioned several songs, including "What A Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong. Carlos, being the artist he is, created a beautiful portrait of Louis Armstrong for me. Pure love in action.
This friendship that grew from the luncheon is exactly what this community creates. Connection where you'd least expect it. Love where the world tells you to look for danger.
Where Love Actually Lives
Here's what struck me most: it was at a luncheon of people society labels as "hardened criminals" that I experienced some of the truest love I've ever felt.
Let me be clear from the start: this isn't about the prison system working. The system is broken. When profit drives policy and beds need to be filled to keep budgets healthy, rehabilitation takes a backseat to revenue. What I witnessed was people choosing love despite being failed by that system. When fear would have been the safer, more understandable response, these men chose connection.
Think about that for a moment.
These are people who've collectively served an estimated 3,000 years in prison. Many for violent crimes. But what you see in that room isn't violence or hardness. You see celebration. You see brothers embracing after years apart. You see joy that's infectious and love that's undeniable.
The word used most often in that room? Love. Not anger. Not resentment. Love.
These men understand love on levels most of us never reach. Not romantic love, but universal love. The kind that flows from someone who's been broken down completely and chosen to rebuild with connection instead of walls. They take full accountability for their past actions, but they found love and healing despite a system designed to warehouse rather than rehabilitate, a system that often keeps certain people trapped in cycles of incarceration.
The Deeper Question
This weekend validated something I've been exploring through my Heart-Strong Adventure: love can show up in the places we least expect it, and fear can live in the places we think are safest.
We're conditioned to fear people who've been to prison. To cross the street, lock our doors, assume the worst. But these men embraced us with more genuine love than you'd find at most weddings. They made room on their porch for everyone.
Meanwhile, boardrooms and country clubs and other "respectable" spaces are often filled with people armored in fear, competing instead of connecting, protecting instead of loving.
When we humanize people we're conditioned to fear, we better understand our own humanity. Witnessing someone else's capacity for love reminds us of our own.
What This Means
I keep thinking about that Taj Mahal and Keb' Mo' song. "Come on up, there's room on the porch for everyone."
The returning citizens showed us what that looks like. They made space where love could live, and everyone could belong.
Now the question for me becomes: How do we make room on our porches? How do we show there's space for everyone at our tables?
Because love isn't just something we feel. It's something we practice. Something we make room for. Something we invite others into. And the best part about it. Love is a renewable resource. I believe if you open yourself up to it, the supply is limitless. Love is not a zero-sum game.
Carlos and I are planning to have a Campfire Conversation, my soon to be launched podcast for this adventure, in January to explore these themes deeper. So, you will get to know him more. Trust me, you will love him as much as I do!
If this stirred something in you, I'd love to hear it. And if someone comes to mind who might need to know there's room on the porch for them too, please share this.
Because when we make room for love, love makes room for everyone. At least that is what I think.