Love in the Time of Liberation - How We Use Love Languages to Support Our People

Swop Behind Bars
May 14
4 min read

Black background with an image of hands making a heart with the sunset showing through

At SWOP Behind Bars, we don't just talk about justice—we embody it. And let’s be real: in this work, survival alone isn't the goal. We're here for thriving. That means care that's intentional, compassion that's culturally competent, and connection that doesn't vanish when the paperwork's done.

Our team isn’t made up of robots or case numbers—we’re human beings who show up with heart. We laugh, we cry, we vent about bureaucracy, and we love big. One of our favorite ways to think about how we love in our work? The five love languages—but make it abolitionist.

Here’s how each love language shows up in our advocacy work, reimagined through the lens of solidarity, survival, and sex worker-centered support.

Words of Affirmation — The Hype Squad That Doesn’t Miss

We all know that one advocate who will absolutely gas you up in the group chat the night before your court date. Or the one who writes the best captions for your GoFundMe: “You are not your record. You are a warrior.” They’re not just nice—they’re necessary.

Words of affirmation are powerful in communities that have been repeatedly silenced. Our folks are used to being talked over, talked about, or talked down to. So when an advocate says, “I see how hard you’re trying,” or “You don’t have to prove your pain to be worthy of help”—that hits different.

Whether it’s editing a survivor’s clemency letter, celebrating 30 days in stable housing, or reminding someone that relapse isn’t failure, these affirmers speak life back into people who’ve been denied humanity at every turn.

They’re not just cheerleaders—they’re truth-tellers.

Acts of Service — The Logistics Angels Behind the Scenes

Let’s give it up for the spreadsheet warriors and Google Calendar queens. These are the folks who organize ride shares for your parole hearing, stay on hold with social services for an hour, or drop off Plan B and snacks like it’s just another Tuesday.

You might not always see their work, but you’ll feel it. They’re the ones who call three pharmacies to find your prescription when you don’t have an ID. The ones who help you write an appeal after your food stamps get denied—again. The ones who research trauma-informed OB-GYNs that won’t judge you for your history.

They show love by doing the work no one else wants to do—the complicated, bureaucratic, exhausting tasks that make the difference between surviving and spiraling. Their love language? Liberation through logistics.

They don’t just say “I care.” They prove it.

Receiving (and Giving!) Gifts — Mutual Aid as Love in Action

For some of us, love comes in bubble mailers, commissary deposits, and care packages bursting with snacks, hygiene products, and handwritten notes. These Goddesses of Advocacy know the power of a well-timed gift.

We’re not talking about luxury here—we’re talking about dignity. A decent pair of shoes for job interviews. A binder that actually fits. Phone minutes so you can call your child. These are the gifts that say: “You matter. And you’re not alone.”

Mutual aid isn’t charity—it’s community. And when the system fails, these gift-givers step up. They organize wishlist drives, Venmo blasts, and resource drops. They remember your birthday even if your own family forgot.

Their love is intentional, tangible, and full of care. Every box sent is a tiny act of rebellion against a world that tries to forget our people.

Quality Time — The “Stay On the Line” Soul Holders

In a world that rushes, these advocates slow down. They’re the ones who say, “I’ve got time—go ahead and tell me the whole story.” They sit in hospital waiting rooms, Zoom into check-ins that run long, and don’t flinch when the tears start.

Quality Time in our work looks like walking through every step of a reentry plan. It’s attending art shows and parole board hearings with equal enthusiasm. It’s hanging out in silence when the trauma is too heavy to talk about—but knowing your presence means safety.

This is the love that shows up without needing to be productive. The kind that says, “I’m not here to fix you—I’m here to walk with you.”

And honestly? That’s sacred.

Physical Touch — Consent-Based, Culturally Attuned, and Deeply Healing

This one’s tricky in advocacy work—but when safe, consensual, and welcomed, physical touch can be powerful medicine.

For someone who’s just been released from a facility where they were strip searched, handcuffed, or physically violated, the act of being touched with care is profound. A gentle hug. A hand squeeze during sentencing. Helping someone button a shirt for their first job interview in years.

These are not grand gestures—they are moments of connection, healing, and rehumanization.

Physical touch, when offered with attunement and consent, becomes a tool to remind someone: you are not an object, a number, or a mistake. You are whole. You are home.

Bonus Round: Liberation Language — Where We Take Love Beyond the Binary

Love languages aren’t static—they evolve, just like our communities. At SWOP Behind Bars, we often add a few extra dialects to the mix:

Radical Boundaries: Saying “no” with love. Teaching folks that they don’t have to say yes just to be safe or seen.
Political Education: Love as knowledge. Helping our people understand the systems hurting them—and how to fight back.
Memes & Group Chats: Because sometimes, the best way to say “I love you” is by sending that perfect drag queen GIF or dropping a dumb TikTok at 3 a.m.

Final Word: Love Is the Work. And the Work Is Love.

Advocacy without love is just policy paperwork. At SWOP Behind Bars, we build power with people, not for them. And that means tapping into every form of love we have—especially the ones the world tried to steal from us.

So if you’ve ever donated, shared a post, or texted your friend inside just to say “I’m thinking of you”—congratulations. You’re speaking the language of liberation.