Thursday, June 29, 2017

Confessions of a Michigan Prisoner

I have a confession to make: I am not an athlete. I never have been unless it comes to board games involving words. Then I can run circles around a lot of people. I like to (actually) run, lift weights, and generally stay in shape, but my eye-hand coordination prevents me from being a strong athlete in team sports. Nevertheless, this year I decided to play on a softball team in prison.

There are two reasons I chose to play. The first is that I needed a diversion from the intensity of studying all the time. Playing softball gives me a physical outlet for what is otherwise a rather non-physical lifestyle. The second reason is that I am playing on a team of fellow (prisoner) college students, so it is a chance for me to participate in building community and camaraderie.

I am not a complete lame when it comes to playing ball. I can get a decent hit occasionally, and I can field fairly well. Yet, I am not expected to hit well or play well by the other teams. It's not my size though--they've just seen me play.

So why am I telling you this? Why make this confession, which isn't perhaps the kind of confession you were expecting, in a public forum? Most of you, my readers, probably don't know me, so it would be easy for me to paint a picture of myself that is a bit more flattering. If you listen to many of the men in prison, they are reluctant to admit any weakness and far too quick to brag about their supposed prowess in nearly everything. But I think it is healthy to be authentic, vulnerable, and sincere. If that means owning my clumsiness and admitting that I'm not much of an athlete, even if I wish I was, well, I don't mind revealing that part of me. Aristotle said that character is formed by practice of habit, so even though this confession isn't earth-shattering, it's a great way for me to practice the art of authenticity. How about you? How can you be authentic with the people in your life today?

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Visiting a Prisoner in Michigan

A lot of people have an image that visiting a prisoner in Michigan is like what they have seen on TV. Certainly, there are some similarities, but there is much about visiting a prisoner that TV doesn't show.

Michigan's prison system has contact visits, which means you can hug and kiss or hold hands with the prisoner you visit. You do not need to sit behind Plexiglass(r) and communicate through a phone (unless the prisoner is currently housed in the hole). Instead, most of the visiting rooms in Michigan's prisons have lines of chairs against the walls and in the center of the room facing each other. Some have short tables on which prisoners and their visitors my place the vending food they purchase or play chess or card games. Most visiting rooms also have a corner with toys for small children who may be on the visit.

The vending machines contain pop (soda) and juices, sandwiches, chips, candy, and various other vending machine foods. Only visitors may use the vending machines, so the prisoners usually tell their visitor what they would like and then the visitor does the purchasing and microwaving. Michigan has a policy that all food items must be taken out of its packaging and placed on paper plates in front of the visiting room officer. Most visitors bring a Ziploc(r) baggie to hold their license and the change they bring for the vending machines. Visitors are not allowed to bring cellphones into the facility, and they must remove their watch before entering the visiting room. Most facilities have lockers out in the lobby for visitors to lock up their purses or other items they cannot bring into the visiting room. Most prisons also offer visitors an opportunity to purchase a picture ticket to have their picture taken with their loved one. Sometimes these tickets are purchased in the visiting room, and other times it is out in the lobby before entering the visiting room.

All visitor (except for clergy who bring their license) must be pre-approved through an application process before visiting a prisoner. Every visitor (except licensed clergy) must also be on a prisoner's visiting list before sending in their application. Prior to entering the visiting room, all visitors must register at the front desk, wait sometimes up to two hours, and then endure a thorough pat-down, including removing one's shoes and socks, before visiting their loved one. Visits may be terminated after an hour of visiting if the visiting room is exceptionally busy. The only exception to this is if the visitor has traveled more than 200 miles one way. Some officers are very rude and disrespectful to the visitors, and some facilities are notorious for their long wait times. However, visitors are not without recourse. They can fill out complaint forms which go to the Warden of the facility, or they can complain directly to the MDOC administration in Lansing if the problem persists. Visitors are not prisoners and should not have to suffer the same inhumane treatment that prisoners sometimes suffer. 

Visiting a prisoner can be a real hassle. The often long drive, long wait time, rude treatment, and terminated visits can be very discouraging. For those of us prisoners who do receive visits though, it can be the highlight of the month (or even year!). Prison is very isolating, and phone calls can only go so far to help a prisoner feel connected to those he loves. Many of us recognize the immense stress that visiting a prisoner can have on a person, but we are grateful to spend a little time with people we love and who love us back. For prisoners, visits are one way to maintain the essential connection with your loved ones who will often provide the very support a prisoner needs to succeed upon release from prison. We need you to remind us that we too are valued humans.

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

The Irony of Injustice

In the eight years that I have spent in prison (so far), one refrain that I have heard time and time again from prisoners is the belief that the justice system and prison system are unjust. Some prisoners claim that the system has committed injustice by convicting them in the first place, and others that the sentence they received was unjust. Most prisoners readily complain about the injustice of the prison system because of the lack of due process given when it comes to allegations of misconduct, the treatment of prisoners as less than human, the unfairness of imprisoned fathers being restricted from involvement in their children's lives, and the parole board's common practice of extending a prisoner's sentence past his earliest release date without good reason to do so (among other injustices). 

These injustices are real. People are routinely convicted for crimes they did not commit and have their sentences enhanced by overzealous prosecutors and judges without proper consideration for the truth or falsity of extra-conviction accusations. Furthermore, many corrections officers and administrators in the prison system view prison as a place for punishment rather than merely as a punishment itself. This means that prisoners are often mistreated, falsely accused of misconducts while in prison, not given proper medical care (especially those with mental illness), and generally treated as less than human. 

Some might find an irony in the claim that many prisoners feel that they have been treated unjustly. After all, most offenders would not be in prison if it weren't for the injustices they committed against others. But even if someone commits injustice against another, does that mean that we as a society ought to refuse to offer him justice? If we punish people because they offend our sense of justice, shouldn't we use the justice we hold so dear in holding them accountable? If we are to teach offenders how to value justice, as a society we must value justice enough to extend it even to those who have failed to extend it to others. 

We can begin to practice true justice by holding prosecutors and courts accountable for the injustices they commit, by holding police officers and detectives accountable for falsifying evidence or withholding exculpatory evidence, by requiring equitable treatment of convicted offenders by making restoration the goal of accountability, and by treating those accused but not yet convicted and convicted offenders with dignity and respect even if we think they don't deserve it. As a society, we must begin to see that justice is not locking up offenders for as long as we can and treating them with distain. Justice means dealing only with the truth and restoring as much as possible what has been made wrong by injustice. It means seeking to bring wholeness to all parties, victims, offenders, and communities by taking a comprehensive approach, where restoration for all is the goal.

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

I Need a Vice!

Recently, I overheard a prisoner who was only two days from going home talking about how he can't wait to get out and smoke a cigarette. The way he was going on and on about how much he was looking forward to his girlfriend bringing cigarettes when she came to pick him up made me a little curious. So, I asked him, "Why would you want to go back to smoking cigarettes after being forced to quit when you came to prison? It's an expensive and unhealthy habit." His response surprised me even more than his obsession with smoking. He replied, "I NEED a vice! If I don't have a vice, I'm going to do something stupid, I just know it!" Another prisoner nearby nodded vigorously, mimicking the motions of dragging long and hard on a cigarette.

Certainly, smoking cigarettes is not one of the seven capital vices (or deadly sins if you prefer), but it is a vice. Health risks and wasting money aside, in was particularly intrigued with the attitude this prisoner had that he could divert his propensity for stupid behavior into a cigarette. Freud called this introjection, which means turning our aggressive behavior back onto ourselves in a self-destructive way. It is a hopeless mindset that since one is powerless to change his aggressive behavior, he must turn it on himself to avoid hurting others. 

This propensity towards introjection might explain why so many prisoners have (or have had) substance abuse problems. The rate of substance abuse history among prisoners is astonishingly high. The Michigan Department of Corrections (MDOC) recognizes that this is a problem, so many prisoners are required to take a substance abuse class before paroling. The problem is that while many men come to prison with substance abuse problems, they do not get help for these problems until a few months before discharging. That means that in some cases these men remain in an addict's mindset for years before being forced to take a class where they might learn how to overcome their addiction. But of course, they must want to overcome their addiction first. 

Addictions of any sort are powerful, and while some people may think that giving in to addiction is a way to manage other problems (like aggressive tendencies or depression), addictions instead simply become another unmanageable problem in the person's life. For those prisoners who want something different from their lives, they must take the initiative to address their addictions on their own. They can sign up for Narcotics, Alcoholics, or Sex Addicts Anonymous meetings (which are voluntary, but not always offered). They can write the national organizations for NA, AA, or SAA and request a sponsor by mail. They can also self-study literature about addictions and begin to deal with the underlying problems that are feeding their addictive habits. Yes, the MDOC ought to address the addiction issues of prisoners much earlier in their prison terms, but ultimately it is the responsibility of each prisoner to seek help for their addictions on their own. If prisoners are to truly change their lives, they cannot keep their bad behavior at bay with a vice. It simply won't work.

Thursday, June 1, 2017

Regret As a Force For Change?

I saw a Toyota Corolla commercial on TV the other day that appealed to people's sense of adventure. Using an old cliche, the voice-over stated that years from now the viewers would have more things they wish they had done rather than things they would regret having done. This is a twist on the deathbed wish of spending more time with family and less time at the office. 

The fact is, everybody has regrets. Some of these regrets are for not having done the things one wished to do. Sometimes people have perpetual bucket lists as if fulfilling these wishes would make them happy. Unfortunately, the achievement of this happiness is often temporary and so the pursuit continues. Sure, a new Toyota Corolla might make you happy for a short time, but eventually it'll just be a mode of transportation, moving you from one place to another in a schedule too hectic to enjoy the pleasure of a new car.

Many prisoners have deep regrets for the things they were unable to do in life, or for lifers and long-termers, the things they will no longer be able to do in life. But more often, I believe prisoners regret the things they have done. Sure, not all prisoners regret their past harmful behavior, but the vast majority that I know do. Many of the men I know in prison carry around with them a deep burden of regret with no way to unburden themselves from that weight. I know many prisoners who long for a way to make right the wrongs they have done, to help heal they harms they have caused, and wasting away in prison is not an antidote to these harms, for either the victim or offender. Yes, punishment is an important part of criminal justice, but so is giving offenders an opportunity to right their wrongs through pro-social actions. Simply being separated from the community of people who offenders have harmed does nothing to heal those harms. It's like putting a Band-Aid over a wound where gangrene has already set in.

Offenders can take small, individual actions on their own to help make right their wrongs (like donating a portion of their meager prison wages to organizations that help victims like their own), but without the proper support from people outside of prison, even these small actions may make very little difference. Without a way to help right one's wrongs, many prisoners just live with that deep regret, and it eats away at their soul, day-by-day.

Perhaps the solution to this problem is for those who are free and who regret not doing something more transformational with their lives to pair with those who regret having done so much harm (prisoners) to bring about true healing and transformation in the lives of victims, communities, and offenders who are affected by crime. Are you up to the challenge?