I have spent nearly 20 years of my life in and out of prison and at least 10 years behind a prison door. You would have thought that I would have chosen another profession because for me, crime certainly did not pay. My lack of faith in society, justice and God (whatever omnipotent power that may be) had me locked in a cell not just in body but in mind too.

When I first went to prison as a teenager I was asked in prison reception of my religious beliefs and I answered that I was an "atheist". Even though I was brought up as a Muslim, in a devout Muslim family, the only reason I answered "atheist" was because in the early 90s, all Muslim prisoners were given a vegetarian diet, as halal meat was not available to them. So I chose sausages and chips and bacon butties over God and I guess I will burn for that. If I am ever stood before the highest judge of them all, to defend my actions I would say: "I was hungry your honour" and hope for the best.

Prison is, and always will be about survival of the fittest. Just as I chose to denounce my faith to eat meat, it was in effect a survival technique and the only downside to it was that I lived with the rest of the heathens and found myself on the periphery of the Asian prison community. I made it my personal mission to make the prison officers' lives as much of a misery as they had made mine (I used to be assaulted by prison staff just for being a "Paki'') and I found myself in solitary confinement for weeks and months on end. In solitary I was only ever given a Bible to read and after ripping up the first few Bibles they gave me, I stopped ripping it up and began to read it. In solitary I found solace and hope in the stories of the Old Testament, and faith in the stories of the New Testament. For the first time in my life I understood hope and faith.

When the Home Office decided that Muslim prisoners should be given halal meat in the mid-90s and made sure that they could practice Ramadan as a right, (the majority of Muslims practiced Ramadan in secret until it was made official) I became a Muslim prisoner again. I did it for survival but I soon realised that, if I had followed my faith to begin with, I would never have found myself in solitary, alone, dejected, angry and full of fear.

When I practiced my faith I found myself in a community of many different races of men who all had one thing in common: faith. All kinds of prisoners somehow came together and managed to shed the labels to which justice had left them condemned to. Prisoners, Muslim and Christian alike, hung on to their faith as it kept them safe (as a group) and gave them discipline (away from the prison drugs trade and violence) and structure (self education and teaching). All these things help rehabilitate and resettle a prisoner on a sentence and on release back into the community.

In this respect faith compares favourably to the Ministry of Justice's idea of rehabilitation and resettlement which is in any case shamefully inadequate. Instead of investing in education, rehabilitation and resettlement of prisoners and their families, the "system" condemns thousands of men, women and children to a life behind bars and no real escape which is a sad indictment on our society today.

I have managed to stay out of prison for over six years now. In that time, and with the help of Joe Baden, co-ordinator of the Goldsmiths Open Book project, I got my first real qualification, a 2:1 degree in History at the age of 33. Through the project I now work as an outreach worker in various prisons. I also work for the Prison Reform Trust as a researcher on the resettlement needs of prisoners and have given evidence to the Home Affairs committee at the House of Commons on the role of the prison officer.

I now work in the same system that once condemned me. Why, you may ask. Well that one's easy ... because I know what prison is really like and I never lost faith.