The Women History Almost Missed
- JAZZY JOHNSON
- 4 days ago
- 3 min read

Jail has a way of stripping you down quickly.
After processing — fingerprinted, handed a roll of tissue and a few hygiene items — I was escorted into a 32-bed dorm. The door clanged open and shut again and again. The energy was heavy. Women arguing in one corner. One young lady softly talking to herself in another. Tension sat in the air like it had a pulse.
I told myself just breathe.
I dropped my things on the bottom bunk in the far-left corner and walked toward the book rack, desperate for a distraction. That’s when I met Jackie.
She smiled wide, handed me two books, and said, “You like to read? These are good. You should read both.” Jackie had been through more than most — years of addiction, prostitution, incarceration — but her spirit was light. Not naive. Resilient.
By night two, she had me laughing through tears. Beneath her humor lived wisdom. Beneath her past lived hope.
She talked about getting clean for her daughter, about wanting a future that looked nothing like her history. And somehow, even in jail, possibility still found us.
That’s the thing about women like Jackie — and women like Cyntoia Brown-Long and Alice Marie Johnson. Society often meets women like them at their worst moment and decides that moment defines them forever.
Cyntoia was a child when she was exploited — then punished for surviving. Alice was sentenced to life in prison under a system that showed little mercy. Both women were labeled, discarded, and buried under judgments far heavier than their charges. They were last in every way that mattered: last believed, last protected, last shown grace.
And yet — God was not finished.
As I sat in that dorm, braiding another woman’s hair, listening to stories that never made headlines, I realized something sacred: jails and prisons are full of women that history will never quote — but heaven remembers them all.
WOMEN WHO ROSE AFTER BEING COUNTED OUT
Cyntoia Brown-Long Sentenced as a teenager for surviving exploitation and abuse, Cyntoia became a symbol of how the justice system often punishes Black girls instead of protecting them. Through education, faith, and healing, she emerged not embittered — but resolved.
Alice Marie Johnson Once serving a life sentence under mandatory drug laws, Alice became a quiet source of hope behind bars. Her faith sustained her, and her release expanded her purpose. Today, she continues advocating for justice reform.
Jackie looked me in the eyes and said, “You’re going to write a book. And don’t you forget me, now!” She had that certainty. I now recognize that certainty in women like Cyntoia and Alice — women whose survival tells a louder story than any sentence ever could.
Cyntoia emerged not hardened, but purposeful. Alice walked free with forgiveness instead of bitterness. Jackie, though still behind bars when I left, carried something just as powerful: hope that refused to die in captivity.
This is what the last shall be first really means.
Not that the pain didn’t happen. Not that justice came quickly. But that God does His deepest work in hidden places — cells, dorms, waiting seasons, overlooked lives.
Women’s history is not only written by those who rose easily. It is written by women who endured quietly. Women who survived systems, abuse, shame, and silence — and still chose to love, believe, and rebuild.
This is for the women history almost missed — but God never forgot.
For Jackie.
For Cyntoia.
For Alice.
For every woman who was counted out early but kept breathing anyway.
Sometimes the last don’t rise loudly.
They rise changed, stronger.
And in their rising,
history, almost missed, is finally seen.
ABOUT JAZZY
Jazzy A. Johnson is a nurse, author, and self-love coach dedicated to helping women heal from emotional trauma and reclaim their identity in God. Through her book Love After War and her community work, she empowers others to break cycles, set boundaries, and choose peace. Jazzy is passionate about faith, family, and guiding women toward wholeness — mind, body, and spirit.
Purchase Jazzy's latest book: Love After War

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This piece captures the view through the window of the soul of the incarcerated black woman. It pulled me in.
Beautiful piece.