We are humans too...

“I don’t know what you mean ms?” one of the inmates said during a lengthy discussion on an excerpt from a poem another prison had read aloud. “What don’t you understand?” the two teachers in the front of the room said in unison. “Juxtaposition… what does that mean?” The other tutor and I went through a brief discussion explaining what the work juxtaposition meant. After the inmate began to nod in agreement the discussion continued. As the conversation continued to evolve it merged from a discussion about literal analysis to a discussion about life experiences. I listened as experiences bounced one mouth to the next and it began to seem hard for the teachers to keep the class under control.

At the end of the class one of the other tutors, Joe, older white haired man, came to speak to the inmates about a topic Victoria and I had been too scared to talk to them about ourselves.

With 20 minutes to go he re-directed the. As he makes his way to the front of the class, the laughter and smiles on the inmate’s faces turn to concern. For a brief moment I saw all the pain and torment in their faces. Joe moved to the front of the room. He began to explain that he had been informed by the female’s teachers that there had been some inappropriate comments between the inmates and the teachers. He explained that in order for this program (The GED Program) to continue, there are certain rules that need to be followed. If those rules are not followed – this program would be in jeopardy.

“You have to understand that this facility is set up to dehumanize us. They tell you to be scared of us, because they want you to be scared. They tell you to not sit on the same side of the table as us because they tell you we will touch you, and try to harm you…” A prisoner said.

“Look at the poster on the wall over there?” another prisoner chimed in. In unison we all turned our heads and looked. Prisoners are human too – is what the sign read. “They tell you that we aren’t human, but they are the ones that spit in our face, they yell at us for wanting a drink of water or to take a piss. They have the power and they know they have the power, and because they have it they use it without hesitation. Now that we have an opportunity to learn, think, and talk in class… they want to take that away from us as well; it’s cruel.”

The conversation continued on until the end of the class. I was astonished at the depth of the conversation.

I left that day learning one thing: verbal brutality can sting as much as physical brutality, but neither should be accepted.

Prison Brutality...

This semester in particular it seems like the prison has begun to consume my life. Each and every Thursday that I leave the prison, the thoughts, stories, and experiences from each and every one of the inmates leave me with as well.

For another class this semester we were asked to choose a topic that we thought was a problem in society. The topic I picked was prison brutality. Every week I walk into a prison and there is an unmistakable mistreatment and overpowering of the inmates. Almost every class like clockwork several times in the middle of class there is a CO (Corrections Officer) yelling down the hallway at a prisoner because he wanted to take a drink from the water fountain, or use the door less bathrooms. The sound was cruel and exaggerated as they yell and curse at the freedom-less men.

Well after witnessing these atrocities each week and hearing a heart wrenching story from one of my closest friend I thought that prison brutality would be a perfect topic for this assignment. As one of the components of the assignment I decided to create a video recording my friend recounting her story of prison brutality.

Here is the youtube link for you to view....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T6H2JeLpcEk

Could you decide?

“March 16, 1996. Somewhere in Merced County, California, this morning, a judge of the Superior Court will wake up, shower, shave, eat breakfast, kiss his wife good-bye, and drive to the county courthouse where he will dress in black robes, mount an elevated dais, and preside over a gathering of attorneys. He, in concert with the others, will decide the exact date and precise time that the state of California will kill my best friend (102).”

– Excerpt from Steven King Ainsworth, in his piece Danny, from the book Undoing Time: American Prisoners in Their Own Words, edited by Jeff Evans.

This is the opening paragraph in a piece written by Steven king Ainsworth, in San Quentin, California. This particular essay stood out in my memory for many reasons. One the entire essay analyzed the Criminal Justice System as a whole. The author starts with his understanding of how the government, (a judge) has complete control over determining someone’s death date, and in this case his friend Danny died on May 3, 1996. But as he continues the essay he reflects on what events brought his friend Danny to his death, and how those event played into the strucure of the prison system. The opening paragraph of this essay struck me the hardest. I want to be a judge, this is what the prisoners always question and challenge me about. Thus far, all of their questions I have been able to answer with confidence. But now it is me asking the questions…

“Alonna could you decide someone’s death date?”

I am thankful I have never been asked that question. My answer at first would be to defend my stance. I want to be a judge, that would be a part of the job – it has been determined that this persons punishment is death, and then I would do my job to carry out that punishment. That is exactly why this essay in particular interests me. He is not writing about punishment, he is writing about life. Steven’s friend Danny was the last true friend he had in life, Danny was a father, and a grandfather, he worked in the prison mentoring first offenders, and juveniles to change their lifestyles. Is that not enough a reason to live? How many future criminals could he have affected? Danny (Steve’s friend) was described as a prisoner of the justice system…

“The state raised him from the age of nine, fried his brain at twenty-five, and killed him at forty-eight (106).”

The biggest realization for me is that Danny is not the only prisoner who has had to live through this experience. Unfortunately for many – this is their reality. In aspiring to become a judge, I think that it is necessary to have an understanding of experiences such as these and how they develop throughout the US Criminal Justice System. How can the system be changed and reformed to create better society, and its citizens (yes that includes inmates).

He ends the essay with this…

My friend is dead and I do not think the world is any better for it. His poisoned cadaver joins the rising body count from death row since reinstatement of capital punishment in 1977:

Four men have been executed.

Two men have been murdered.
Eleven men have committed suicide.
Nine men have died of natural causes.
One man was shot and killed by a guard (106).

References:

Evans, Jeff. Undoing Time: American Prisoners in Their Own Words. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 2001.

They are humans too...

As I previously mentioned. Throughout this internship I have been reading several texts and books that have helped me to gain a better understanding of the prison system. Another book that I have been reading is entitled, Undoing Time: American Prisoners in their Own Words edited by Jeff Evans. This book, it just a book of stories written by prisoners from people incarcerated all over the United States. This particular text has been eye opening for me because this book actually takes you into the mind and experiences of The United States incarcerated humans. I use the word humans because prior to starting this internship I struggled with the idea as prisoners at anything other than prisoners. This is an issue that until now, until after working in the prison system, I would have never realized. In society we tend to talk about the idea of a prison, and the institution of the prison system, but in general “prisons” are abstract ideas; a human face is never really placed on prisoners. I am guilty of this as well.

Throughout the semester, surprisingly my blog has maintained somewhat of a steady audience of readers. Though many of my readers do not comment in text on my actual blog, their comments have played an important role in conversations since. This week I was confronted about my use of the word “prisoners” in my blog. I though this question to be a bit puzzling. My answer was simply, “that is what they are… they are prisoners.” My answer was followed by a look of astonishment. “When I read you blog, you paint a human face on these “prisoners,” you talk about sharing human feelings and understandings with them… yet you continually call them “prisoners.” You cluster them into this group, isn’t that what society does; we say the “wrong-doers, prisoners, inmates” but no one actually stops to hear about humans who are locked behind bars. Humans without rights… that is what your blog allows me to do, to stop and for the few minutes I’m reading you have given them a voice – they are humans…”

Wow. That has been my goal in this blog; I have wanted to help to dispute the negative stereotypes about prisoners and our prison system. In attempting to do so, at least for one person I was effective, but have I been critical enough of myself? I feel like this semester I have viewed myself (like I have been jokingly called) “superwoman.” Don’t take that the wrong way? But like most things, when you are doing something good or when you are helping someone – you feel good about yourself. I don’t think there is anything wrong with having those feelings and having the ability to be able to understand the immense impact of a good deed… but sometimes you can get wrapped up in those feelings. So if I care so much about the individuals that I teach, if each and every man in that class has touched me each in an individualistic way… then why can’t I think of them as individuals? When I started to think about the immensity of my actions – I wanted to stick my foot in my mouth… How could I do that? Was I even really making a difference?

I think my answer to that question is yes. While reading the book, Undoing Time: American Prisoners in Their Own Words, I saw it. “American Prisoners…” – Prisoners are what they are. Categorizing and grouping people is human nature. We do it every day of our lives; the inmates themselves refer to themselves as prisoners. It is not derogatory- it is reality. The truth is that sometimes reality stings. Being a prisoner is an instance where reality hurts a little. I sit and tutor 20-27 adult males every Thursday in Auburn State Penitentiary. Each and everyone one of those men have names, families, and most have children. My experience in the prison doesn’t allow me learn each and every inmate I tutor’s life story; but it does allow them to change mine. Though I may talk about each of the prisoners as in a group, they will each always have an individual space in my memories, and in my experiences. This experience not only allows me to grow and learn, but it also provides a space and opportunity to me to speak up, and raise awareness about the “forgotten Americans” – the prisoners.

Similarly, to Jeff Evans, the editor of this book, he did not live in the prison or experience half of what the writers of his book experienced. But Jeff Evans care enough to use his time to ensure their stories were heard, and that is all I could even hope to do.

References:

Evans, Jeff. Undoing Time: American Prisoners in Their Own Words. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 2001.

Reflecting...

This week as I walked into the prison, I could feel the tension welling up in my body. I was so overwhelmed, and it wasn’t just me, the other tutors were as well. I can’t describe the immense amount of pressure that is placed on me each and every time that I walk into the prison. On our way to the prison this week, the other mentor and I had a long talk about that mental and physical stress that working in a prison puts on you. Every week we walk into the prison with our hearts and minds open to help, and educate, and every week it feels like we leave with a burden on our hearts. Sometimes it’s hard to go into a place so full of pain, and heartbreak and not be able to come out changed. As my semester is coming to a close, and this internship will no longer be a requirement it has given me a lot of time to reflect. Throughout this internship, I have learned so much and grown as well. I am honestly surprised at how much I have learned just from spending a few hours a week with inmates tutoring them for their GED.

I can’t believe how often I think about their lives, and how hard it is to live the way they have to live now. It really makes me think, that it only takes one mistake, one mili-second and your life can be changed forever. I think that is the most important lesson I’ve learned thus far. I said I chose to do this internship because I wanted to learn more about the legal system. Our system of reform is not truly reforming anyone. In my opinion it is merely supporting and economic system that continues to empower America, and trap those who have become complacent within in that system. Walking into the prison each week and seeing this kind of inequality is really disheartening.

Throughout this semester in conjunction with my on-site experience working in the prison, I have also been reading a book called, True Notebooks, by Mark Salzman. In this book, the author, Mark Salzman, is a college writing professor, who like myself, decides to go into the prison, and he beings a writing class. He starts this writing class in a juvenile prison, and throughout the book he combines his experiences and the experiences of the young boys in the system to paint a very real picture of the prison system. Prior to this internship I had no knowledge of how the adult of juvenile prison system works, and now that I have been socialized in this way I realize that for a lot of these men they never even have a chance. A reoccurring theme in this particular book was how quickly and how young boys move from juvenile system to the adult prison system. In many instances this boys (children) only made one of two mistakes at the ages of 13 or 14, and are sentenced to juvenile prison. In many instances the inmates would go directly from juvenile prison to adult prison, from the ages of 14 and 15 they never have a chance to live. Reading this book was eye opening for me. I could believe some of the stories described in this book. Children would go to trial and at age 14 listen to the judge tell them they would never be able to have children, get married, be alone, or live on the other side of bars again – there is not room for change because these boys never had a chance. Reading stories like these, and seeing inmates in the adult prison, the same age as me made me realize the immensity of the prison system.

Having these experiences have only encouraged me in striving to succeed in my goal as a judge. I have seen and heard the experiences of men who have been trapped, and locked into a life, I have heard stories of men who are willing to change but have nowhere to turn for help. I have been socialized into the United States prison system, and I want to change it. I now have the understanding of where I could potentially be sending a criminal, and I now understand what “America” considers justice to be. I don’t agree with that justice, I choose to disagree; I choose to make a difference. I am choosing to become a judge, and for the few people that come into my court room, I can only hope to judge them fairly with a sound heart and mind; and with my abundance of experiences. I can only hope that true justice and equality will one day be a part of the United States prison system for every person who has to experience it.

I now have three cousins in the United States prison system; they are 22, 21, and 21. I can only hope that they are experiencing true and equal justice, but from what I have seen, and read I fear for their lives and the lives of their children because now they are in the hand s of “justice” or “injustice….