Learning Fatherhood Behind Bars

Hernán Carvente Martinez
4 min readJun 14, 2019
Hernan enjoying a visit from his daughter and little sister at Brookwood Secure Center in Claverack, N.Y.

This month marks my seventh anniversary of freedom. On June 8, 2012, I was released from prison.

Four years earlier, my time in prison began a week before Father’s Day and three months before my daughter was born. I never imagined I’d become a father for the first time behind bars. Throughout that time, I had to watch my daughter grow up through pictures in the mail and visits on the weekends. When she was a baby, it was easy for her to come visit me and leave without a problem. As she got older and developed a stronger relationship with me, she would put out her small hand and signal me to come with her as she left, and I would have to stand there waving goodbye in tears.

It broke my heart each time I had to see my daughter leave without me. It hurt to see how much I was missing: one visit my daughter was crawling and the next she was running around.

But this was my reality. It continues to be the reality of many people trapped in the grip of our broken criminal justice system.

I went into the system not knowing what being a supportive loving father was like. My idea of fatherhood was filled with nothing but toxic masculinity or absentee male role models, who either were not there or showed very little respect to the mothers of their children.

I originally was not a great father myself.I did not know how to show love and affection. I did not know how to teach, lead or nurture. And I did not know what it meant to treat the mother of my daughter with respect and admiration.

Hernan Carvente bonding with his daughter Celeste.

Prison taught me nothing about how to be a good father. Instead, I learned through trial and error. I learned by listening to my daughter and her mother and by actively working to dismantle the values of toxic masculinity that I was raised with. I learned by being vulnerable and actively working on myself.

Fatherhood has taught me what it really means to be present and to show true, unconditional love. Being a good father means modeling the behaviors, decisions and values that you want your child to have. To be a parent means doing more than just providing your child with material items, it means hugging, talking, and creating memories with them. And as a father, it means making sure that you are showing the utmost respect and appreciation to the woman who made that child possible.

I know there are some people who might read this and say that men who are locked up or have been involved in the system don’t deserve to be called “Dad.” They think we have neglected our responsibilities, or we just didn’t care enough to do what was right. But it’s not that simple.

Imagine growing up around constant violence, mental health issues, poverty, unstable family dynamics among many other challenges. Men are expected to be “tough”; we are expected to bury our emotions. And, as a result, many of us fail to learn how to bear the responsibility of being a caring and supportive parent for our children. I can certainly say that if it wasn’t for education and the support and love I was shown when I was at my lowest, I would have never become the father that I am today.

Prisons are not designed to do anything to help men, young or old, learn what it means to be a good role model, a good parent. Our society wants to believe prisons are meant to rehabilitate, but they fail to do that. Instead it takes someone who is already struggling and pulls them away from any community, any support they’ve ever known. And we do little to successfully help people transition back into society.

Hernan Carvente and his daughter Celeste.

My life has drastically changed from the day I was released seven years ago. Today, I’m the Youth Partnership Strategist at the Youth First Initiative and I have the privilege of working with young men and women who are directly or indirectly impacted by the justice system. I am able to pass on the skills I’ve learned about being a leader and parent because of the second chance I was given. As a result, I have a beautiful connection to my now 10 year old daughter and a healthy co-parenting relationship with her mother.

But without those resources, I would likely be sitting in another prison cell seeing my daughter grow from a distance.

As we mark Father’s Day this year, I’m thankful for the mentors I’ve had and the people who donated their time and money to youth-led efforts. We need to continue that support for the next generation. This Father’s Day, let’s make a commitment to investing in the future fathers and mothers by reimagining the youth justice system and ending the practice of locking kids up in cages.

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