“Resocialized to Be Less Human: The Psychological Cost of Prison Compliance”

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 By Chaddrick Thomas


They call it “rehabilitation.”

They call it “reentry preparation.”

But in truth, what prison does to a person isn’t always about preparing them for society.


Sometimes it’s about reshaping them to fit inside a system—a system that wants order, not growth. Control, not healing. Submission, not transformation.


This is what they don’t tell you about incarceration:


The longer you’re here, the more they try to resocialize you—

not into who you could become,

but into who they need you to be to manage you.

What Is Resocialization?


Resocialization is the process by which someone’s beliefs, behaviors, and identity are broken down and restructured to fit a new environment.

In theory, it’s meant to help you adapt.


In prison, it becomes a tool to erase parts of you.

  • They strip you of your name and give you a number.

  • They strip you of your choices and give you orders.

  • They strip you of your rhythm, your identity, your instincts—and call it rehabilitation.


But what if you weren’t broken to begin with?

What if you were just angry?

Lost?

Poor?

Traumatized?


What happens when a system tries to reprogram a person whose only real need was compassion, not confinement?

The “Good Prisoner” vs. The Whole Person


In this place, there’s a blueprint for being a “model inmate.”

  • Don’t speak too loudly.

  • Don’t question authority.

  • Don’t express emotion unless it’s safely numbed.

  • Smile on cue.

  • Walk in line.

  • Accept what they give and don’t ask for more.


If you do that, they say you’ve adjusted.

You’ve been resocialized.


But in truth?

You’ve just learned to suppress your humanity for survival.

I Wasn’t a Monster—But They Treated Me Like One


When I came to prison, I wasn’t evil.

I wasn’t some born criminal.

Yes, I’d made serious mistakes.

But I also came from a middle-class two-parent home.

I was a military veteran.

I had people who loved me.

I still believed in decency.


But none of that mattered.


To the system, my charge made me a monster.

And monsters need to be tamed—not heard. Not helped. Not healed.


So I was placed into a process where the goal wasn’t to restore me…

It was to rebuild me in the image of someone obedient, indifferent, manageable.

They Break You in Subtle Ways


It’s not always about violence or force.


It’s about routine.

Deprivation.

Silence.

Repetition.


They tell you when to wake up. When to eat. When to speak. When to sleep.

They erase the part of you that used to say,


“I’m tired.”
“I disagree.”
“This doesn’t feel right.”


And they replace it with a robotic version of you that just nods and moves.

Resocialization Is Not Rehabilitation


Rehabilitation says:


“Let’s help you understand your harm and learn a better way.”


Resocialization says:


“Let’s train you to function inside of confinement.”


One is restorative.

The other is restrictive.


One liberates.

The other pacifies.

The Danger of Becoming “Too Institutionalized”


I’ve seen brilliant men—creative, empathetic, spiritual—shrink over the years.

Not because of violence.

But because of the slow erosion of self.


They stop asking questions.

They stop challenging injustices.

They stop hoping.


They become what prison wants them to be: quiet, compliant, and invisible.


And when they finally do get out, they don’t know how to function in a world that actually requires them to think, choose, lead, and live.

I Fought to Stay Myself


Even behind bars, I’ve built businesses.

Written.

Mentored.

Spoken truth to power.

Because I refused to be resocialized into silence.


But it takes strength. It takes awareness.

It takes constant resistance.


Because every day, the system is whispering:


“Don’t be you. Be what we need you to be.”

Final Thought: We Need to Talk About What Prison Really Does


Prison doesn’t just punish behavior—it reshapes identity.

And when someone wasn’t “bad” to begin with, this process can do real harm.


We need systems that restore.

That build people up.

That believe in the wholeness of the person—not just their “risk score.”


Because resocialization may produce control.

But it doesn’t produce justice.

It doesn’t produce healing.

And it damn sure doesn’t produce freedom.


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