"No one deserves to be measured by the worst thing he has ever done."
This powerful statement was said to me by a prisoner advocate friend of mine as we discussed the subject of advocacy. Yet, the truth is that as humans we tend to define people by their worst choices. Think about it: President Bill Clinton is remembered largely for the Monica Lewinsky scandal; Pastor Jim Baker is remembered as a womanizing cheater; OJ Simpson as a murderer who got away with it; and Bernie Madoff as a greedy scam artist. All of the other achievements and the good qualities of each of these men are overshadowed by the stain of their bad choices.
Certainly, some people are characterized by a lifetime of wrong choices and bad character, but others, either in a moment of weakness or through an unrestrained passion, erased a lifelong reputation of trustworthiness in a single act.
Nearly all of the guilty men in prison fall into one of these two categories. Some are lifelong losers who either can't figure out how to make good choices or who refuse to out of rebellion. Others are suffering the consequences of a single bad choice, or even a small series of bad choices, that forever altered their lives and often the lives of others. But must these choices forever define these men? Must one forever remain a robber, a rapist, or a murderer?
Politicians, celebrities, and wealthy and influencial people often hire public relations firms to remake a tarnished image; however, most ex-felons have neither the resources nor wherewithal to conduct such a makeover. Instead, they must either embrace their new identity (which many choose), or they must fight a constant uphill battle to show their commitment to new and better choices.
Bad behavior should have consequences, but if we are to become a society that embraces restoration over retribution we must stop measuring people by their worst mistakes; instead, we must begin to define a path toward wholeness so those who regret their worst mistakes can use them as signposts for where their change began, not as a label that identifies them for life.
Giving someone a chance at redemption can be scary. Some who attempt to redeem themselves will fail miserably. But fear of another's failure should not keep us from embracing grace. Grace might just be the only antidote for failure, and who couldn't use a little grace from others?
Tuesday, August 29, 2017
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Oh, The Injustice!
I have a friend in prison who we sometimes call the "Grievance Man." He writes a lot of grievances on the prison administration, both for himself and for others. Many of the issues he grieves are legitimate injustices, but as I have often told him, you have to pick your battles.
The grievance system was set up to give prisoners a voice against injustices they experience inside of prison, from corrections officers, administrative officials, and other corrections staff. You might call it a system for accountability. The unfortunate reality is that the system is deeply flawed and does not provide much justice for prisoners who experience legitimate injustice. If a prisoner is sexually harassed, intentionally put in danger by corrections staff, or if his property is stolen or destroyed by corrections staff, for example, the prisoner is afforded an opportunity through the grievance process to request corrective action. The grievance process is also very frequently used against the medical care and food services provided to prisoners. This system was originally intended to ensure the prisoners' due process rights are protected and to be a filter against frivolous lawsuits. In order to file a civil lawsuit against the Michigan Department of Corrections (MDOC), prisoners must first exhaust their grievance remedies, through all three steps, which can take months to complete. Unfortunately, the grievance process has become a nearly useless remedy for injustice, partly because prison officials often refuse to take grievances seriously and partly because some prisoners use the grievance process to try to resolve petty problems.
First, the grievance is heard by whoever is in authority over the person or persons whom the grievance is written against. The normal response to nearly any grievance, if it is not rejected by the grievance coordinator as "untimely" or for some other reason, is to summarily deny any remedy. Most responses include some line about finding that no policy has been violated, or simply denying the prisoner's accusations. After the first step, the prisoner may appeal to step two, which for many grievances goes to the Warden's office for review. These, too, are nearly always summarily dismissed as frivolous. The final step, step three, is to send the grievance to the regional coordinator. These prison officials are MDOC administrative personnel whose job it is to protect the MDOC. Although I am sure it happens, I am not aware of a single prisoner in my eight years in prison who has been successful on a step three grievance. After the final step, the prisoner may pay a $350 filing fee and file a civil lawsuit against the MDOC. I know of several prisoners who have done this and successfully won a judgment against the medical staff in Michigan prisons for medical malpractice, but I don't know of any that have been successful for other injustices, at least in the last twenty years.
The MDOC grievance system is a broken and ineffective remedy for holding MDOC employees accountable for misconduct and for protecting prisoners' rights. A prisoner who abuses the process by writing large numbers of grievances earns a reputation among staff members as someone who complains a lot (or worse, he is retaliated against by staff), and this rarely helps to resolve any problems--in fact, it often makes them worse. The reality is that injustices happen in prison, sometimes quite frequently. This often happens when there is a large disparity in the power dynamic. But the other reality is that many prisoners have a heightened sense of injustice and poor conflict resolution skills. If prisoners were trained in conflict resolution skills (Chance For Life does offer this in prison to some prisoners), and real injustices were taken seriously by MDOC staff, perhaps the number of grievances the MDOC deals with would decline significantly.
I don't know if my friend will stop writing grievances anytime soon, but as much as I give him a hard time for it, I appreciate his passion for holding those in power accountable. I hope he becomes a powerful voice for genuine transformation. We need people to passionately care like he does.
The grievance system was set up to give prisoners a voice against injustices they experience inside of prison, from corrections officers, administrative officials, and other corrections staff. You might call it a system for accountability. The unfortunate reality is that the system is deeply flawed and does not provide much justice for prisoners who experience legitimate injustice. If a prisoner is sexually harassed, intentionally put in danger by corrections staff, or if his property is stolen or destroyed by corrections staff, for example, the prisoner is afforded an opportunity through the grievance process to request corrective action. The grievance process is also very frequently used against the medical care and food services provided to prisoners. This system was originally intended to ensure the prisoners' due process rights are protected and to be a filter against frivolous lawsuits. In order to file a civil lawsuit against the Michigan Department of Corrections (MDOC), prisoners must first exhaust their grievance remedies, through all three steps, which can take months to complete. Unfortunately, the grievance process has become a nearly useless remedy for injustice, partly because prison officials often refuse to take grievances seriously and partly because some prisoners use the grievance process to try to resolve petty problems.
First, the grievance is heard by whoever is in authority over the person or persons whom the grievance is written against. The normal response to nearly any grievance, if it is not rejected by the grievance coordinator as "untimely" or for some other reason, is to summarily deny any remedy. Most responses include some line about finding that no policy has been violated, or simply denying the prisoner's accusations. After the first step, the prisoner may appeal to step two, which for many grievances goes to the Warden's office for review. These, too, are nearly always summarily dismissed as frivolous. The final step, step three, is to send the grievance to the regional coordinator. These prison officials are MDOC administrative personnel whose job it is to protect the MDOC. Although I am sure it happens, I am not aware of a single prisoner in my eight years in prison who has been successful on a step three grievance. After the final step, the prisoner may pay a $350 filing fee and file a civil lawsuit against the MDOC. I know of several prisoners who have done this and successfully won a judgment against the medical staff in Michigan prisons for medical malpractice, but I don't know of any that have been successful for other injustices, at least in the last twenty years.
The MDOC grievance system is a broken and ineffective remedy for holding MDOC employees accountable for misconduct and for protecting prisoners' rights. A prisoner who abuses the process by writing large numbers of grievances earns a reputation among staff members as someone who complains a lot (or worse, he is retaliated against by staff), and this rarely helps to resolve any problems--in fact, it often makes them worse. The reality is that injustices happen in prison, sometimes quite frequently. This often happens when there is a large disparity in the power dynamic. But the other reality is that many prisoners have a heightened sense of injustice and poor conflict resolution skills. If prisoners were trained in conflict resolution skills (Chance For Life does offer this in prison to some prisoners), and real injustices were taken seriously by MDOC staff, perhaps the number of grievances the MDOC deals with would decline significantly.
I don't know if my friend will stop writing grievances anytime soon, but as much as I give him a hard time for it, I appreciate his passion for holding those in power accountable. I hope he becomes a powerful voice for genuine transformation. We need people to passionately care like he does.
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
How to Say "No!"
It probably does not come as any surprise to my readers that prisoners are notoriously bad at saying no to what we want, but which may not be good for us. This history of bad decision making has led many of us to prison, but only after damaging our lives and the lives of those around us in the process. Each prisoner is different in the things he can't say no to, but some common threads are found throughout the prison population: drugs, money, sex, and violence. For various reasons, many of us found it difficult to say no to what we most certainly knew was not good for us in the long run. Perhaps we deluded ourselves into believing that saying yes "just once" wouldn't hurt us, and that led then to saying yes again and again until we were powerless to say no.
For many people, not just prisoners, saying no to our desires leaves us feeling like we might be missing out on something. We might miss out on the pleasure of being high or the ability to forget our pain; the status and power of having money and what it buys; the pleasure, power, and sense of belonging from sex; or the feeling of power from violence. In our desperate pursuit of happiness, we trade long-term happiness for short-term pleasures, which end up leaving us addicted to the chase for the next pleasure.
Since many of these addictive threads are found in prison, I suspect they are often rooted in feelings of powerlessness. Drugs, money, sex, and violence all may seem like solutions to the feeling of powerlessness, but in the end they imprison people who give up power over their ability to say no. This imprisonment does not always lead to actual prison, but it can be a prison of addiction from which those who pursue them continue to seek an ever elusive mirage of happiness.
Many men in prison have been told "No!" their whole lives. No, you are not good enough. No, you are not important. No, you will not make it out of poverty. No, you will not forget the painful memories of your childhood. No, law enforcement will not protect you. No, your family and friends will not be there when you need them. After hearing "no" their whole lives, many prisoners refuse to tell themselves no. Instead, they give themselves permission to do whatever they want, consequences be damned. What many of us did not realize is that in refusing to say no to those things that would harm us, we were also saying no to the very happiness we longed for.
The Dalai Lama has taught on happiness for years. He explains that making the right decisions in life is not a matter of giving up on something, or of saying "no" to something we desire for our pleasure. It is a matter of saying "yes" to happiness when we recognize that in the long run, what we must say no to will not contribute to our long-term happiness.*
We must be able to recognize those things that will harm our ability to be happy. Many of us know, instinctively, what will harm our happiness. We must simply be willing to say no to those things that will harm us by saying yes to our happiness. Drugs, money, sex, and violence all have histories of harming those who pursue them at all costs. Each of these things has its proper place, but as a means to long-term happiness, they all fail miserably. If you don't believe me, just ask anyone in prison who thought pursuing them would lead to happiness.
*(Paraphrased from "The Sources of Happiness," by the Dalai Lama and Howard Cutler in Pursuing Happiness, Bedford/St. Martin's, 2016, Boston, 32)
For many people, not just prisoners, saying no to our desires leaves us feeling like we might be missing out on something. We might miss out on the pleasure of being high or the ability to forget our pain; the status and power of having money and what it buys; the pleasure, power, and sense of belonging from sex; or the feeling of power from violence. In our desperate pursuit of happiness, we trade long-term happiness for short-term pleasures, which end up leaving us addicted to the chase for the next pleasure.
Since many of these addictive threads are found in prison, I suspect they are often rooted in feelings of powerlessness. Drugs, money, sex, and violence all may seem like solutions to the feeling of powerlessness, but in the end they imprison people who give up power over their ability to say no. This imprisonment does not always lead to actual prison, but it can be a prison of addiction from which those who pursue them continue to seek an ever elusive mirage of happiness.
Many men in prison have been told "No!" their whole lives. No, you are not good enough. No, you are not important. No, you will not make it out of poverty. No, you will not forget the painful memories of your childhood. No, law enforcement will not protect you. No, your family and friends will not be there when you need them. After hearing "no" their whole lives, many prisoners refuse to tell themselves no. Instead, they give themselves permission to do whatever they want, consequences be damned. What many of us did not realize is that in refusing to say no to those things that would harm us, we were also saying no to the very happiness we longed for.
The Dalai Lama has taught on happiness for years. He explains that making the right decisions in life is not a matter of giving up on something, or of saying "no" to something we desire for our pleasure. It is a matter of saying "yes" to happiness when we recognize that in the long run, what we must say no to will not contribute to our long-term happiness.*
We must be able to recognize those things that will harm our ability to be happy. Many of us know, instinctively, what will harm our happiness. We must simply be willing to say no to those things that will harm us by saying yes to our happiness. Drugs, money, sex, and violence all have histories of harming those who pursue them at all costs. Each of these things has its proper place, but as a means to long-term happiness, they all fail miserably. If you don't believe me, just ask anyone in prison who thought pursuing them would lead to happiness.
*(Paraphrased from "The Sources of Happiness," by the Dalai Lama and Howard Cutler in Pursuing Happiness, Bedford/St. Martin's, 2016, Boston, 32)
Tuesday, August 8, 2017
A Prisoner's Cycle of Grief
Recently when I was sitting in a Jackson College stress management class in prison where I am a teacher's aide, the professor was covering grief cycles. Grief cycles were originally named "Stages of Grief" by psychologist Elizabeth Kubler-Ross who identified them. These stages are:
1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance
The stages were later called grief cycles because most people don't normally move linearly through each stage, but rather they cycle through the stages, sometimes repeating stages and even getting stuck cycling between two or three stages for prolonged periods.
As the professor was talking about these cycles of grief, it occurred to me that many prisoners (and probably the families of prisoners as well!) go through these stages of grief. When someone is first arrested, it is common for them to either outright deny what they are accused of, or to shift the blame to mitigate their own culpability. This stage of denial is often quickly followed by anger, at the victim or witnesses for exposing the offender, at the courts for aggressive prosecution, at one's lawyer for failing to effectively defend the offender, at the jail guards for treating the offender poorly, at family members for their lack of support, and finally at oneself for making stupid choices. Sometimes this stage is followed by bargaining, where the offender decides to push for a plea deal rather than face a trial. This stage also includes bargains with God: "Just get me out of this, and I promise to live right from here on out!" Before long, usually within weeks or a month or two, depression sets in. In my own experience, this stage is the longest, although I found myself reverting back to anger from time to time. It sometimes takes a while to get to the point of acceptance.
Acceptance is not, as one student asked the professor, giving up. It is not resigning oneself to the plight one is in. It is acknowledging that one cannot change the past, including one's own mistakes. It also means recognizing that some consequences cannot be avoided, but they can be embraced as a means to molding and shaping one's character. It means learning to use what are otherwise unfortunate and tragic circumstances to make a positive impact wherever one is, now and in the future.
It is when one comes to the point of acceptance that true transformation begins to occur in one's life. Getting to this point doesn't mean never making stupid decisions or choices again. But it means being more introspective and self-aware. It means fostering hope in a better future and taking steps to ensure that happens.
When I came to the point of acceptance in my own cycle of grief, it changed the way I looked at my future. For my first few years in prison, while I was simply trying to survive the challenges of prison, I was also unsure if there was going to be any life for me after prison. I didn't feel very hopeful in my chances, and I'm a pretty hopeful person. But when I came to a point of acceptance, I decided to be intentional about preparing myself for eventual release and to do what I could to help others do the same. This has given me purpose, and I have found it highly rewarding. It hasn't been easy, and I doubt it ever will be, but I find the acceptance stage much more peaceful to live in, even if I still cycle back to other stages from time to time.
1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression
5. Acceptance
The stages were later called grief cycles because most people don't normally move linearly through each stage, but rather they cycle through the stages, sometimes repeating stages and even getting stuck cycling between two or three stages for prolonged periods.
As the professor was talking about these cycles of grief, it occurred to me that many prisoners (and probably the families of prisoners as well!) go through these stages of grief. When someone is first arrested, it is common for them to either outright deny what they are accused of, or to shift the blame to mitigate their own culpability. This stage of denial is often quickly followed by anger, at the victim or witnesses for exposing the offender, at the courts for aggressive prosecution, at one's lawyer for failing to effectively defend the offender, at the jail guards for treating the offender poorly, at family members for their lack of support, and finally at oneself for making stupid choices. Sometimes this stage is followed by bargaining, where the offender decides to push for a plea deal rather than face a trial. This stage also includes bargains with God: "Just get me out of this, and I promise to live right from here on out!" Before long, usually within weeks or a month or two, depression sets in. In my own experience, this stage is the longest, although I found myself reverting back to anger from time to time. It sometimes takes a while to get to the point of acceptance.
Acceptance is not, as one student asked the professor, giving up. It is not resigning oneself to the plight one is in. It is acknowledging that one cannot change the past, including one's own mistakes. It also means recognizing that some consequences cannot be avoided, but they can be embraced as a means to molding and shaping one's character. It means learning to use what are otherwise unfortunate and tragic circumstances to make a positive impact wherever one is, now and in the future.
It is when one comes to the point of acceptance that true transformation begins to occur in one's life. Getting to this point doesn't mean never making stupid decisions or choices again. But it means being more introspective and self-aware. It means fostering hope in a better future and taking steps to ensure that happens.
When I came to the point of acceptance in my own cycle of grief, it changed the way I looked at my future. For my first few years in prison, while I was simply trying to survive the challenges of prison, I was also unsure if there was going to be any life for me after prison. I didn't feel very hopeful in my chances, and I'm a pretty hopeful person. But when I came to a point of acceptance, I decided to be intentional about preparing myself for eventual release and to do what I could to help others do the same. This has given me purpose, and I have found it highly rewarding. It hasn't been easy, and I doubt it ever will be, but I find the acceptance stage much more peaceful to live in, even if I still cycle back to other stages from time to time.
Friday, August 4, 2017
Calvin College Holds Picnic for Families of Prisoner Students
I am blessed to be one of now 57 Michigan prisoners who are Calvin College students in prison. Each of us was accepted into the Calvin Prison Initiative (CPI), and we attend college classes at the Handlon Correctional Facility in Ionia, Michigan. The Handlon campus (in prison) is a fully accredited extension of the Calvin College main campus, and classes are taught by professors with impressive credentials. Each CPI student is working towards a bachelor's degree in Ministry Leadership with a minor in Social Work.
On July 29th Calvin College held a picnic at the main campus in Grand Rapids, Michigan for loved ones of CPI students. This picnic was an opportunity for the families and friends of the CPI students to enjoy a meal provided by Calvin College and to get to know some of our professors, tutors, mentors, the program's co-directors, and the Handlon prison's Warden Dewayne Burton who has been an incredible advocate and supporter of the CPI program.
After a delicious meal, the CPI students' families and friends who attended the picnic watched and listened to several presentations, including pictures and video of the CPI students, and presentations by co-director Dr. Todd Cioffi and Warden Burton. Although we CPI students were not allowed to attend the picnic (for security reasons), we have heard reports already from our loved ones who attended and who were blessed to hear about the positive work of the CPI students at Handlon.
Some of the highlights shared by Warden Burton included: CPI students tutoring Jackson College prisoner students who are attending classes under Pell grants, CPI students facilitating math, algebra, and geometry classes for the Vocational Village trades students at Handlon, CPI students assisting the employment readiness program at Handlon by helping prepare returning citizens for success upon release from prison, and CPI students cultivating and growing vegetables for donation to programs outside of prison. The picnic program also included highlights from the Restorative Justice conference organized by several CPI students and attended by over 300 people in April.
Those who attended this CPI picnic saw firsthand that prison does not have to have the negative stigma so often attached to it by the media. Even though its reach does not yet extend to all of Michigan's prisons, Calvin College and the CPI program are beginning to change the hearts and minds of Michigan's prisoners, and which time perhaps it will change the culture of Michigan's prisons as well.
For more information about Calvin College, visit www.Calvin.edu
On July 29th Calvin College held a picnic at the main campus in Grand Rapids, Michigan for loved ones of CPI students. This picnic was an opportunity for the families and friends of the CPI students to enjoy a meal provided by Calvin College and to get to know some of our professors, tutors, mentors, the program's co-directors, and the Handlon prison's Warden Dewayne Burton who has been an incredible advocate and supporter of the CPI program.
After a delicious meal, the CPI students' families and friends who attended the picnic watched and listened to several presentations, including pictures and video of the CPI students, and presentations by co-director Dr. Todd Cioffi and Warden Burton. Although we CPI students were not allowed to attend the picnic (for security reasons), we have heard reports already from our loved ones who attended and who were blessed to hear about the positive work of the CPI students at Handlon.
Some of the highlights shared by Warden Burton included: CPI students tutoring Jackson College prisoner students who are attending classes under Pell grants, CPI students facilitating math, algebra, and geometry classes for the Vocational Village trades students at Handlon, CPI students assisting the employment readiness program at Handlon by helping prepare returning citizens for success upon release from prison, and CPI students cultivating and growing vegetables for donation to programs outside of prison. The picnic program also included highlights from the Restorative Justice conference organized by several CPI students and attended by over 300 people in April.
Those who attended this CPI picnic saw firsthand that prison does not have to have the negative stigma so often attached to it by the media. Even though its reach does not yet extend to all of Michigan's prisons, Calvin College and the CPI program are beginning to change the hearts and minds of Michigan's prisoners, and which time perhaps it will change the culture of Michigan's prisons as well.
For more information about Calvin College, visit www.Calvin.edu
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