You would think it goes without saying that I, as a 38 year-old college graduate, blog contributor and reform advocator, master crocheter, great older sister and emphatic funny friend—am more than my mugshot. Taken on July 17, 2008–historically, one of the worst days of my life–both overall and hair specific. “Lucky” girl that I am this trauma has been forever memorialized and made easily accessible by our friends at Google. Please just take my word for it, flattering it is not, I’m not kidding about the hair.

Anyway, back to my whole “you would think” theory. I can’t even count how many people over the years that have reached out to me here via JPay or snail mail (the point being they knew where I lived); gotten to know the multifaceted person I am today–liked, accepted, and loved that person. But then inevitably the other shoe will drop, and instead of talking to me, they Google me. I lose my entire identity, stolen like a thief in the night–by none other than July 17, 2008 Ashleigh. AKA the mugshot. I’m literally my own worst enemy, how’s that for ironic? The

part that isn’t ironic however is that these people never again let me out of that frame.

If I were to divulge all the sordid things that have been said or done to me once they’ve pushed me into that tiny little frame mentally and thrown back a straight shot of judgmental thinking, a couple of things could happen… 1) I’d have enough material for an extremely entertaining and probably hilarious book and 2) I’m quite sure an angry mob on my behalf isn’t too farfetched. So to ensure a future best seller and to make sure nobody gets all medieval I’ll just give you an example.

A couple years ago a man named Dan contacted me. He was very much wanting to be in a committed relationship with me and was making a great effort to convince me. I’m just the kind of woman who likes to let a person show me who they are, and I know that takes time. So about two months into communication he late night cyber stalked me and was super unhappy with his findings. To be clear, I don’t lie about my life; I see no point, but every time the topic of what brought me to prison was broached Dan steadfastly claimed he didn’t want to know, didn’t care, he knew who I was now, that my past didn’t matter—until it did.

First he blamed me for his late night web browsing — accusing me of having a “tone” that upset him and kept him from sleeping. And obviously when you can’t sleep the only option is to do a 17 year deep dive online search on the person you’ve been getting to know. So he read the (2) two newspaper articles in existence and into the tiny frame I went. He started verbally and emotionally abusing me — telling me I was just a disgusting slut that kept having kids, that I wasn’t “pure” for him. Actually, I just wasn’t who he’d been picturing me as; now I was my mugshot. He never again could see me as more than that.

Nobody — mugshot or not — is just a snapshot of one moment in their life. You’d think I was crazy if I told you e-harmony was going to troll through your past and select a picture from 10-15 years ago–something super unflattering or compromising–post that as your welcome picture, then invite members to view it and make judgements about you accordingly. You’d be outraged right? But when you refuse to look beyond a person’s mugshot and what it stands for, that’s exactly what you’re doing.

It’s completely inappropriate to go for coffee with someone you barely know and demand that they give you a complete rundown of what they’d done in the summer of 2008. You’d be looked at like a crazy person who lacked boundaries or social skills. But demanding an incarcerated person explain their mugshot or case when it’s disrespecting their privacy assuming they don’t deserve it is proof that you view the other person as less than.

If you want to treat an incarcerated or formerly incarcerated person like a person (because that’s what we all are), then don’t assume there’s a separate set of rules for them just because the luxury of privacy has been ripped away from them. We all want the same thing in the end, to be judged by the content of our character, not a snapshot (mugshot) in time.

*Ashleigh Smith is a contributing writer to this blog. You may read her other posts by searching “Ashleigh” at the top of this page.

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