Artist: Sofia Valiente

Project: Miracle Village

Description: Buried in the sugarcane fields of southern Florida, on the southeast corner of Lake Okeechobee, lies a small community called Miracle Village. Here, fifty-two off-white duplexes once housed migrant workers that would labor in the surrounding fields. Now they house over one hundred convicted sex offenders.

Miracle Village was founded four years ago by a Christian ministry aiming to help post-prison sex offenders reintegrate into society and settle down. Among the lifelong, nationwide restrictions that inevitably follow former sex offenders, finding a home can seem the hardest: they must live at least one thousand feet away from any bus stop, school, or place where children congregate. Therefore, Miracle Village is isolated: five miles from the closest town (population 8,000) and forty miles from the nearest city.

For over a year and a half, Sofia Valiente has befriended, lived among and photographed the residents of Miracle Village. All but one are men, and all are in a process of coming to terms with the lifelong label of “sex offender.” Miracle Village recounts their stories of solitude, estrangement and rehabilitation through a collaborative process that involves personal writing by subjects in response to Valiente’s questions. By combining portraits, vernacular texts and photos of personal objects from the past, Miracle Village considers the daily life as well as the emotional life of its subjects, addressing trust issues, desire for intimacy, fear, psychological isolation, stigmatization, families lost and families gained, and an overwhelming gratitude to have found a home.

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  Ben taking a walk around the sugarcane fields that surround Miracle Village.

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  The church, Jacob’s Destiny, at Miracle Village during Christmas time. Service is every Sunday morning and welcomes the residents as well as people from outside the village.

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  David smoking a cigarette outside his house where he lives with his mother since his release from prison. “My mother is my rock. . . . she stood beside me from start to finish.”

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  David puts away Christmas decorations with another resident, Matt. “Honestly I’m the one who says thank you cause being sentenced to prison saved my life from drugs. And I was blessed with a safe place to live and a place where I fit in at.”

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  Doug playing cards inside his room.

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  Doug, after a day of working outside. He helps out in the community by doing occasional lawn work and other maintenance jobs. “I was traveling with the carnival until I was 20 years old. I had a friend of mine named Chris Billows, also known as Nightwolf. Him and my mom used to work at McDonald’s together. After I got into trouble I became homeless and couldn't get a job so I lived 2,500 feet into the woods. Sometimes my friends would come hang out and we’d play manhunt.”

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  Gene starting up his El Camino on a morning in the village.

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  Gene

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  Gene laying down with his dog, Killer. “Only a fool would truly trust anyone if you are a sex offender.”

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  Lee laying down inside his room. Lee went to prison when he was eighteen and served twelve-and-a-half years of his fifteen-year sentence. He is serving the other two-and-a-half years on conditional release. His restrictions include a 7pm curfew, no driving other than for employment purposes, no time alone, no internet, monthly urinalysis, no contact with minors (even family members), GPS monitoring, and paying the cost of his supervision. He must register as a sex offender for the remainder of his life.

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  Matt and David relaxing on David’s porch after a day of mowing the lawn in the village. They make minimum wage working for the ministry doing various jobs including lawn work on the property. “David and I are like two peas in a pod.”

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  Matt

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  Mike watering his freshly planted trees at night.

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  Mike before going out to a bar. “I went to a bar called Boonies and started talking to one of the servers that reminded me of my very first love. We seemed to hit it off well to the extent of exchanging numbers and agreeing to a date. I eventually was honest with her and told her of my charges. I would love to fall in love.”

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  Pahokee Water Tower

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  Paul, N 103

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  Paul standing outside on his porch.

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  Richard playing basketball in the village.

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  Richard in his kitchen. “Up until the age of 18, I had a terrible stutter. I hated talking. I was always a good student and often knew the answers to the questions asked in class. However, I never raised my hand because I dreaded being called on. My stutter was bad, and when I was talking to a girl it was even worse. When I discovered chatting in 1988, that I could communicate without having to talk, it was the greatest thing ever.”

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  Rose, N 307

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  Rose sitting outside of the church. “People judge you, you’re a monster. I am the only female here who is a registered sex offender. I can go to court and pay hundreds of dollars to get it taken away, but it doesn't bother me now. All these guys look to me as a sister.”

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  Tracy wearing his wig and a shirt that he designed in his bedroom. “About a year before I was released, my son Jamar got the number to my dorm at the Florida Civil Commitment Center and we started talking and getting to know each other. I didn’t think I would ever see him again. Once I made it out, my son called me and asked if he could come stay with me. I said yes, and on Nov 26th at 1:45am he showed up to my front porch. I was overwhelmed with feelings of fear, love and surprise, but when my son called me ‘daddy’ to my face the love just flowed between us and I was happy to answer all the questions he had for me.”

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Eyes on the South&\#xA0;is curated by&\#xA0;Jeff Rich. The weekly series features selections of current work from Southern artists, or artists whose photography concerns the South. To submit your work to the series, email Jeff.