Twenty-Two Candles--And Just One Wish

The first time I met my second oldest daughter, she was four years old, and I was dating her mother. She shyly stepped out the apartment door behind her older sister, wet fingers in her mouth, unsure of exactly who I was. When she saw her sister excitedly running towards me, she followed close behind. Soon, my legs were wrapped in tiny arms belonging to two girls I didn't yet know, but who would later become my daughters. As the youngest of the two, my second daughter naturally lingered in her sister's shadow, but her quiet, shy demeanor didn't stop her sweet and loving personality from shining through that shadow. After I became her dad, the next seven years were filled with her infectious giggling and evidence of her gentle nature. My second daughter was twelve years old when I came to prison. Today is my daughter's twenty-second birthday. It's unfair that she has had to grow through her teen years without the father she counted on providing for and protecting her. It's unfair that the man whom she first wrapped those little arms around was not there to hold her hand through tough moments, and to guide her through the years of teenage angst. It's also unfair that now, as she forges a path through adulthood that I am not there to guide her, praising her good choices and encouraging her toward better ones when she needs it. It's not fair to my daughter that I didn't think about how my crime would affect her when I made my stupid choices. She deserved better. My daughter is not in my life, and I don't know if she will ever choose to be, but that has not stopped me from thinking about her as she's grown up and praying for her every day. It pains me to know that I've missed building more memories with my daughters over the last nine plus years, but I have held onto the precious memories of years gone by. I have rested in the comfort of those memories, knowing that as much as I might not deserve it now, at one time my daughter's infectious giggles were at my corny jokes, and her gentle, loving nature brought light into my life. I'm hopeful that someday I can make things right and rebuild my broken relationship with my children. I don't deserve it, but I'll never stop praying for that opportunity. It would be the greatest gift of grace I could hope for. Today, for your birthday, I pray that you, my daughter, will have the gifts of peace, courage, joy, and hope.

Michigan Prisoners Carefully Follow Michigan's Gubernatorial Race

Many of Michigan's prisoners, regardless of political affiliation, were anxiously watching to see the results of the recent primary election for who will be the parties' primary gubernatorial candidates. As the results came in, a collective groan could be felt reverberating throughout the institution. Normally, most prisoners are uninterested in politics, except to complain about politicians who fail to support prison reform, but as this primary election drew near, many prisoners began to realize that Michigan's next governor could very well alter the course of Michigan's prison reform trajectory.

Michigan's governor has the power to appoint the director of the Department of Corrections, so a change in governorship will likely result in a change in Directorship. The current Director, Heidi Washington, has proven to be reform-minded, implementing three Vocational Villages throughout the system in an attempt to better prepare prisoners for work upon release from prison. Additionally, it was under Director Washington's leadership that the Calvin Prison Initiative was started, and she has proven an ardent supporter of not only this amazing educational program for selected prisoners, but other educational opportunities as well. 

Some of Michigan's lawmakers are pushing for prison and criminal justice reforms because of the Department of Correction's burgeoning budget, but sentencing reforms, good time proposals, and rehabilitative programs are often unpopular with the public, many of whom have bought into tough on crime messages over the last several decades. Nevertheless, the exorbitant costs associated with long prison sentences and studies that have shown the ineffectiveness, and even long-term damage, of long prison sentences are beginning to push some reluctant lawmakers to consider reforms. Social pressure and even high court decisions have also begun to shift the tide on some sentencing issues, not the least of which is whether or not juvenile defendants should be mandatorily sentenced to Life in prison. 

In 2012 the U.S. Supreme Court ruled against mandatory Life sentences for juvenile defendants, but Michigan's Attorney General, Bill Schutte, has fought hard to keep Michigan's more than 350 juvenile lifers in prison. It is precisely this hard line view that has made many prisoners nervous about the potential for a "Governor Schutte." Clearly, regardless of the politically expedient messages Schutte might make regarding criminal justice and prison reforms, his actions concerning juvenile lifers, especially, highlight the fact that he is not in favor of smart on crime policies or correcting unconstitutional abuses of power. 

Michigan's only other likely candidate for Governor, Gretchen Whitmer, has expressed support for criminal justice reforms, but has been reluctant to specify what reforms she actually supports. Whether her reluctance is due to political maneuvering or because she does not actually support any real reforms is unclear. What many prisoners fear, however, is that whichever candidate becomes our next governor, the gubernatorial support for resurrecting good time or disciplinary credits and expanding rehabilitative programming is looking unlikely. We can only hope that social pressure and federal prison reforms will both influence Michigan's next governor to take seriously the need for both sentencing reforms and the need to reduce the prison population through smart policies, like good time or disciplinary credits, that reward prisoners for positive self-directed rehabilitation.

Prison--A Petri Dish of Prejudice

A year ago this week, hatred and bigotry made its mark on history in Charlottesville, Virginia. At a white nationalist rally, Heather Heyer was in the crowd decrying the vile rhetoric of the white nationalists and was murdered for her protest of the rally. This tragic incident, and many others, highlights the fact that hatred, bigotry, and racism are still strong in our country. It is a shameful fact that in a country with a history of strong Christian influence, a country that prides itself on freedom and equality, that racist rhetoric and bigoted behavior are still so prevalent.

As a prisoner in America, it is clear to me that some of the racism and hatred has its origins in America's prisons. America's prisons are petri dishes where ethnic nationalism, racial prejudice, bigotry, and anti-authority sentiments are fostered, fed, and fomented. One needs only turn on one of the many television programs about American prisons to see neo-Nazi, black, and Latino gangs spewing their hatred and committing violent acts against people of other ethnicities.

Michigan's prisons are not as racially volatile as prisons in some states where, to survive, prisoners are often forced to join ranks with groups of their own color. In some of these states, prisoners are intentionally segregated in different pods or housing units to prevent extreme acts of violence. In other prisons the prisoners themselves police the segregation lines in housing units in order to maintain a semblance of peace. Michigan's prisons are not to that point yet, but they do have racial division and hateful rhetoric.

White and black nationalism are strong in Michigan, where nationalistic pride is taught as a cover for hatred and marginalization of other ethnic groups. Some groups disguise their prejudices under the facade of religion, like black nationalists, the Nation of Islam and the Moorish Science Temple of America, and white nationalists like the Odinists. Other racial divisiveness is spread through non-religious, racially exclusive gangs like the Aryan Nation or the Bloods.

The unfortunate reality for prison is that these groups often seek out younger, more impressionable prisoners to whom they preach their nationalistic messages, feeding the deep fear with which these prisoners enter prison. Hatred is nearly always fed by fear--fear of oppression, fear of another's power or one's own weakness, fear of what (or whom) one does not know. Because most prisoners enter prison afraid, racist messages are easy to perpetuate, leading to greater strife, more violence, and a suspicious hatred that is then generalized to all people of one or another ethnicity or color.

The sad reality is that hatred does not need an excuse to infect the fearful. It will always find a way to raise its ugly head, but when hate raises its voice to spew its repulsive rhetoric the voices of peace, the courageous warriors of harmony must drown out the hate, not with hatred for the haters but with compassion for the hated, in defense of the indefensible, and with pity for the violently fearful. We must hold public figures, including politicians, accountable for failing to publicly condemn racist rhetoric and for feeding hate. But we must also hold ourselves accountable for failing to speak up when a friend or acquaintance uses prejudiced, racist, or bigoted language, even in jest. We must also hold ourselves accountable for adding our own voice to disunity or failing to raise it for peace. As communities, as states, and as a country, we must also hold ourselves accountable for feeding the petri dish that is the prison industrial complex. It's time to rethink prison's pipeline to prejudice.

Terror in an Imagined Nightmare

This past week, a friend of mine was told he had a visitor at the prison to see him. He hadn't been expecting a visit because he knew the loved ones that normally visited him were not able to that day. Naturally, he immediately imagined the worst. After all, as wonderful as prison visits are from loved ones, visits are also when many prisoners find out really bad news from friends or family, because some news is better delivered face-to-face. Fortunately for my friend, his worst imagined scenarios weren't true--rather, his son who he hadn't seen in eleven years came for a surprise visit. Nevertheless, hearing this story reminded me that because of our separation from those we love and care about, many prisoners, including me, naturally live with an undercurrent of worry that something bad will happen and that we will be powerless to do anything about it. Even though we would likely be powerless to do anything even if we were free, we are restricted from supporting other family members, or joining in communal grieving, and even communal celebrations in the good times. That sense of powerlessness is one of the hardest parts of prison.

In my first year or two in prison, I was busy working in the prison kitchen when an officer told me I had to go back to my unit immediately. He said the unit counselor needed to see me. Since unit counselors generally wait until prisoners are in their unit to see them on routine issues, I was rather terrified about what he was about to tell me. As my friend recently had, I too imagined the worst possible scenarios. When I arrived at my unit, imagine my relief to find out that another prisoner had gotten locked in my cell while trying to rob me of my property. I was called back to the unit simply to tell the officers if anything was missing (there wasn't). Of course, this news upset me, but I was so relieved that nothing had happened to my loved ones that my anger at what had happened is barely memorable. In fact, several years later when I ran into the would-be robber's homeboy who was supposed to hold my cell door open to facilitate the robbery, I didn't even remember him. My imagined terror at what could have happened had clouded the details of what had really happened. 

Some people might call it poetic justice that prisoners experience this incessant undercurrent of worry about their loved ones. After all, the harm many prisoners caused others often lasts for years, sometimes even a lifetime. Others might be surprised to know that prisoners even care about their loved ones--after all, they didn't put much thought into how their crime would affect them. I suppose these thoughts are valid, but they fail to consider the humanity of the prisoners themselves. Even men and women who are convicted of some of the worst crimes still love others and are loved by others. Yet, for many reasons these same people have harmed someone, often even someone they love. 

A prisoner's worry about his family is a likely consequence of crime. He can do nothing about the ravages of time while he is locked away, nor can he do anything about accidents and tragedies that befall his loved ones. Still, he goes on loving, and sometimes being loved, and when you love people you sometimes worry about them, even if they aren't an active part of your life. It's simply human nature. Just because someone commits a crime doesn't make them any less human. Broken, yes, but even broken people worry about those they love--and hope and pray for peace, health, and happiness, for them, and for those whom they have harmed.