I Cried, You Didn't Listen

"I CRIED, YOU DIDN'T LISTEN IS THE MOST POWERFUL TALE OF HORROR WITHIN THE WALLS OF PENAL INSTITUTIONS SINCE 'PAPILLON.' THE TERRIFYING ASPECT IS THAT IT DESCRIBES AMERICA'S JUVENILE SYSTEM" - Alden Mills, ARETE MAGAZINE "THE AUTHOR'S WELL-WRITTEN STORY COMES AT THE READER FAST AND FURIOUSLY; SHOCKING READERS INTO AN AWARENESS OF THE INHUMANITY OF AMERICA'S JUVENILE PENAL INSTITUTIONS."- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY " I CRIED, YOU DIDN'T LISTEN IS A POWERFUL INDICTMENT OF A SYSTEM THAT MAY HAVE LOST TRACK OF ITS PURPOSE."- Don Davis, THE SAN DIEGO UNION An early Winner of the "Project Censored" Award of Excellence; I Cried, You Didn't Listen is a powerful story. It is shocking, haunting and brutal. Although it is a rare and valuable document, what is exceptional is not Dwight Abbott's experience, but his clarity and courage in sharing that experience. Dwight tells the disturbing tale of a very young child, first committed to the care of the state because of family tragedy and bad luck. Once institutionalized, he must learn to live within the cruel dynamics of a system that grants power through violence and leaves children at the mercy of predatory adults. He is continually faced with the need to choose between dehumanizing options: Be predator or be prey. Even in Dwight's description of racialist violence we see the effect that the social system has had on him - cementing stereo-types and prejudices that become self-fulfilling prophesy. Dwight's account is terrifying. Upon reading it, one must recognize that, faced with the stark choice between victimizing another and being a victim oneself, the morals and values that make sense in freedom fall away. Perpetrating violence appears as the best option for self-preservation. This is the fundamental dynamic at work in Dwight's institutional life. I Cried, You Didn't Listen shows that, within incarcerating institutions, violence in all its forms - sexual assault, cliques, crews, gangs, emotional abuse - is essentially about power and control both over and above one's own sense of self. - Books not Bars