Purpose, a Gift Forged in the Hardship of Prison

Many people are busy this time of year, rushing around, trying to finish last minute shopping and cooking for Christmas. Yes, inflation might make people tighten their belts a little bit, but Christmas will go on. 

But for some people this year, Christmas will be a little sadder than normal. One of the places at the Christmas dinner table will be empty, and one of the stockings over the fireplace will remain untouched. I'm talking about families with a loved one in prison this year. 

I know it's hard. Trust me. I've lived through 14 Christmases in prison now. My family has been on the other side, with me away all this time. I truly get it. 

So, on the behalf of all of us knuckleheads who worked our way into prison, I'm sorry. I'm sorry you have to experience this loss too. But I also want to leave you with hope. Incarceration does not have to be the end. It does not have to be one's final identity, even if one never leaves prison. Even behind these razor wire fences, hope is alive. Hope is the fertile soil in which purpose grows, and every one of us can find purpose, even in the hardship of prison. 

It's not much I offer you, but I long for this seed of hope to inspire in you the will to hold fast and to find joy, even in the midst of heartache. 

Merry Christmas to all the loved ones of incarcerated people. You who love us through our worst of times are one of the greatest gifts we could ever have. 

May God richly bless you this holiday season! 

I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas...Outside of Prison

 While walking the small yard between sets of working out, I mentioned to my friend and workout partner that I've been listening to Christmas music lately. Looking at me like I'd just said something crazy, he responded that I was probably the only prisoner in this prison listening to Christmas music. I doubt that's true, but his response reveals a common attitude in prison about holidays and special dates, like birthdays. If we don't acknowledge them, we can avoid the feelings of regret, nostalgia, and longing that accompany these special occasions. 

Besides the obvious reality that ignoring something doesn't make it less painful, I believe that resisting the inevitable pain only amplifies it. I've both tried to ignore reality and leaned into it, and by far, when I try to stuff pain, it only makes it worse. 

Prisoners cannot recreate, in prison, the joys of special occasions, like Christmases past; however, we can, and I argue should, find our own ways to create new joyful memories. Simply wallowing in self-pity and regret does nothing to honor those beautiful past memories. Nobody can take those from me. But when I am future focused, I recognize that today I can create new memories of joy. 

Newly created memories do not diminish the specialness of other memories. They only add more memories. We don't have to make value judgments about which is better. I can love the times I spent with my family in the past, for I treasure those memories with all that I am. But I can also love the times I've spent playing Euchre or Scrabble on a holiday in prison, or the joy I felt when another prisoner gave me a carefully wrapped gift of simple things from our commissary. 

I can love the times I've sat around with other prisoners in the chapel, singing Christmas carols together. I can smile when I remember the times I played Christmas songs on guitar alongside other prisoners on their guitars and keyboards. In fact, I can remember the first time I played a Christmas song on guitar, and how proud I felt. 

Yes, Christmases, and other holidays, are painful for most prisoners. But that pain doesn't have to be our only reality. Christmas songs develop new meanings. Christmas meals are uniquely prison: "noodle-dos," "bagel sandwiches," "wraps," and "nacho dos." And the true meaning of Christmas is less likely to get lost in the material "stuff" that consumes American consumers today. 

So, yeah. I'm listening to Christmas music, even as I write this. And while I do, I'm feeling longing, nostalgia, regret...and hope. I remember the beautiful moments of Christmas past. But I also look forward to creating new memories, both in prison and out. These things don't have to be mutually exclusive. 

I'm profoundly grateful for the blessings I have, even in prison. I'm grateful to still be loved by few, to be peaceful, and that joy can invade even one of the most depressing times and places in America: Christmastime in prison.

Authoritarian Censorship Policies - Alive and Well in Michigan Prisons

 Although their rights are curtailed by the very nature of prison, prisoners are still afforded Constitutional rights. For example, prisoners' First Amendment free speech rights are protected. They are even allowed, by the Constitution and Supreme Court, to criticize prison officials - as long as that criticism is truthful. However, they are not allowed the freedom to speak insolently to corrections officers, or to stir up dissent among prisoners (both earn a misconduct ticket, or worse). 

Prisoners are also allowed by the Constitution to write, and to publish their writings. Of course, some limitations exist. For instance, prisoners cannot profit from their own crimes or disparage or threaten their victims. However, even constitutionally protected conduct is often restricted or prohibited in prisons. These restrictions are sometimes challenged in the courts, both successfully and unsuccessfully, but lawsuits are expensive and difficult for prisoners to file. 

Recently, I have seen a significant increase in censorship within Michigan prisons. Prisons have always censored materials they feel are a threat to the good order and security of an institution. The Supreme Court has allowed that, and probably for good reason. Nevertheless, Michigan prisons, and others around the country, often abuse this privilege, using senseless arguments to censor some material. 

Another prisoner told me, just this morning, for example, that he emailed his brother a recipe for the fudge he makes in prison using commissary items. His outgoing email message was censored. Prison officials claim that the recipe could be used to operate a business and to generate profit. By whom?! People in the free world are allowed to do just that, but the prisoner lost his appeal to completely illogical justifications. 

This past week, a family member sent me a book on entrepreneurship. It, too, was rejected because it allegedly might be used to operate a business. The real catch is that within the same prison facility, Jackson Community College teaches an entrepreneurship course to prisoners. Apparently learning this material in college cannot be used to operate a business, but reading a basic book about entrepreneurship can be. It's completely nonsensical. 

My own book, Insider's Guide to Prison Life, was also rejected by the mailroom. I wrote this book to help prisoners' loved ones avoid facilitating bad behavior that some prisoners continue to practice in prison. Of course, I describe some of this bad behavior, which is common in prison and known about by every Michigan prisoner. My book's entire aim is to help loved ones encourage rehabilitation and transformation so prisoners successfully leave prison and stay out. 

My book has been rejected for multiple reasons. First, it was rejected because I allegedly might be using it to operate a business enterprise. Although I do not own the publishing rights, one prison felt that writing a book is enough to be "operating a business." This claim contradicts US Supreme Court precedent. Second, it was rejected by another prison because its content allegedly might "facilitate illegal conduct." Because I simply reveal what happens in prison, prison staff believe I am encouraging that behavior, even though the entire premise of my book, and the context of the material, contradicts that claim. 

Unofficially, prison staff have also claimed that prisoners are not allowed to receive copies of their own published works. This is not a prison policy (and it is very likely unconstitutional), but when has that mattered? Neither logic nor constitutionality seem to matter much when censorship decisions are made in prison. If a single prison staff member objects to written material for any reason, BAM! Stamped censored. 

That's a lot of power for a prison mailroom employee.