| I recently completed a college course on the theology of suffering, where we studied the writings of holocaust survivor and human rights activist Elie Wiesel. As always when I read or hear about the tragedy of the holocaust, I was deeply moved. I was moved with shame that the United States turned an indifferent eye to the human suffering that resulted in the extermination of six million Jews--until the war affected us, that is. I was also moved with compassion for the deep suffering the survivors lived with. What an incredibly weighty burden to bear the collective memory of six million brothers and sisters who were put to death senselessly! Finally, I was moved by my own indifference, in the past, to the suffering of others around me. As part of my own journey of healing the harms I caused by committing a crime, it is essential for me to understand the suffering I caused. While I never wanted to cause suffering, I am appalled by my indifference to the likely consequences of my actions. But it is not enough for me to simply understand the consequences of my behavior. I don't want to stand by when people are humiliated, abused, or harmed in any way. I want to be a voice of opposition to these dehumanizing behaviors and a voice of healing to those who have, tragically, already been harmed. Wiesel said that those who suffer through an experience are duty bound to bear witness to it. I can't bear witness to the suffering of crime victims, but I can empathize with it and seek to heal the suffering I and others have caused. I can speak up with compassion for their suffering and vigilantly try to prevent more victims. I can't bear witness to the suffering of communities who are harmed by crime, but I can attempt to repair the harms I've caused my own community and become an advocate for community healing. What I can bear witness to is the dehumanizing effects experienced by those who harm others. Those who have awoken to the humanity of others suffer deeply from the harms they caused. It is a heavy burden that serves both to motivate a profound sense of compassion and to require an active response to repair those harms. Harming others is dehumanizing because it strips something essential from one's soul. God made us to be in relationship with others, and when we harm someone we strip ourselves of the freedom to form these relationships. Being sentenced to prison removes us from healthy communities where these relationships can be nurtured, and, instead, places us in toxic communities where humanity is not valued--by prisoners and prison guards alike. Some people may think it is justice for prisoners to be treated inhumanely, since they too dehumanized their own victims. But we can't teach others to behave with respect and compassion for humanity by dehumanizing them. Unfortunately, I am powerless to stop prison or jail guards from mocking mentally ill prisoners, from humiliating men by making them get naked and repeatedly "bend and spread" in front of other men--just for kicks, or from abusing power just to prove a point. None of these degrading behaviors come even close to the horrors the Jewish people experienced under Hitler, but as Wiesel noted, I am duty bound to bear witness to my own experiences. This blog is just the start of that witnessing. It is a way for me to reclaim my own humanity and to speak up for those who suffer, both inside and outside prison. |
Wednesday, January 31, 2018
Bearing Witness to Suffering
Monday, January 22, 2018
Prison Red Tape Prevents Reunion
Prison is an isolating place, so visits from friends and family are highly prized. They give prisoners a connection to what is happening in the free world, even if the visit experience is unnatural and sanitized by prison rules. Many prisoners don't even get visits, from friends or family members. The last statistic I heard, only something like 16% of prisoners get visits. I don't know how accurate this data is, but given that undisputed research data shows community connections are an essential element to reducing re-offense rates, one would think the Michigan Department of Corrections (MDOC) would make every effort to encourage and facilitate visits and other methods of maintaining healthy connections. Unfortunately, that is exactly the opposite of what happens.
Anyone who has visited a prisoner in Michigan knows that the visitation process is cumbersome, intrusive, and highly disrespectful. It is an exception to the rule if a corrections officer treats visitors with dignity and respect (although to be fair, the younger, newer officers tend to be more respectful). Instead, visitors are often treated disrespectfully, coldly, and rudely. I have been told repeatedly by family and friends who have visited me about the rude and disrespectful treatment they have experienced, and they are not even the prisoner!
To have a visit, a prisoner must list the potential visitor on his or her visiting list. Prisoners can have an unlimited number of immediate family members (parents, grandparents, siblings, etc., but not aunt, uncles, or cousins), but we are limited to only ten non-family members. Furthermore, we are only allowed to change our visitor list once every six months. This means that if someone pops back up into a prisoner's life, they may have to wait up to six months before they can visit. This happened to me recently.
Unbeknownst to me, a friend from my past sent in a visitor application so he could visit me. Because he was not on my visitor list, my counselor offered me the opportunity to add him; I had not changed my visitor list within the previous six months. I have not talked to this friend in more than fifteen years, so I was excited to have a visit from him. I updated my list, but I did not know I already had ten non-family members on my list (only two visit me with any regularity). Rather than give me an opportunity to remove someone, my friend's application was simply denied. When I tried to rectify the situation, I was told by the Warden's assistant that I could only update my list every six months, and I had just updated it to add this friend. The problem? My list never changed because I didn't have the room to add him to my list.
The bureaucracy and red tape found in the MDOC, and especially the apathy to our humanity, shocks me sometimes. Clearly, my visitor list was never updated, even though I had submitted a change. I don't have this friend's contact information, so I am unable to explain the situation to him. The result? I will not get a visit from this friend, which doesn't help encourage my community connections. This sort of heartless decision-making is all too common for a department that supposedly holds a goal of rehabilitating its wards.
Anyone who has visited a prisoner in Michigan knows that the visitation process is cumbersome, intrusive, and highly disrespectful. It is an exception to the rule if a corrections officer treats visitors with dignity and respect (although to be fair, the younger, newer officers tend to be more respectful). Instead, visitors are often treated disrespectfully, coldly, and rudely. I have been told repeatedly by family and friends who have visited me about the rude and disrespectful treatment they have experienced, and they are not even the prisoner!
To have a visit, a prisoner must list the potential visitor on his or her visiting list. Prisoners can have an unlimited number of immediate family members (parents, grandparents, siblings, etc., but not aunt, uncles, or cousins), but we are limited to only ten non-family members. Furthermore, we are only allowed to change our visitor list once every six months. This means that if someone pops back up into a prisoner's life, they may have to wait up to six months before they can visit. This happened to me recently.
Unbeknownst to me, a friend from my past sent in a visitor application so he could visit me. Because he was not on my visitor list, my counselor offered me the opportunity to add him; I had not changed my visitor list within the previous six months. I have not talked to this friend in more than fifteen years, so I was excited to have a visit from him. I updated my list, but I did not know I already had ten non-family members on my list (only two visit me with any regularity). Rather than give me an opportunity to remove someone, my friend's application was simply denied. When I tried to rectify the situation, I was told by the Warden's assistant that I could only update my list every six months, and I had just updated it to add this friend. The problem? My list never changed because I didn't have the room to add him to my list.
The bureaucracy and red tape found in the MDOC, and especially the apathy to our humanity, shocks me sometimes. Clearly, my visitor list was never updated, even though I had submitted a change. I don't have this friend's contact information, so I am unable to explain the situation to him. The result? I will not get a visit from this friend, which doesn't help encourage my community connections. This sort of heartless decision-making is all too common for a department that supposedly holds a goal of rehabilitating its wards.
Tuesday, January 16, 2018
Wasted Time or Wasted by Time?
"I wasted time, and now time doth waste me."
Richard, in Shakespeare's Richard II IV.4
Prison is full of colloquialisms and pithy sayings which are passed down from generation to generation of imprisoned "sages." Sometimes these sayings carry wisdom designed to help new prisoners, "the smell of McDonald's fresh on their breath," navigate the complexities of prison isolation. Still others offer advice on surviving the dangers of prison or thriving despite the restrictions of being locked away.
Not all these words of wisdom come in colloquial form; some are simply common sense (which, unfortunately, is not so common in prison). "Mind your own business," "Keep your nose clean," "Brush your teeth before breakfast so you don't offend others at your table," "Clean up your own mess," and "Don't be friendly with the 'po-leese'" are just a few of these common sense words of advice. I've seen many a man in prison land himself in trouble by ignoring these astute directives, and others who have benefited by following them.
Perhaps the most common saying I have heard in my time in prison has been, "You do time; don't let time do you." Reminiscent of Shakespeare's Richard II quote above, this saying urges the listener to take control over the one commodity that cannot be taken from him: time. Rather than simply existing within the circumstances in which one finds his earthly time clock ticking, one is urged to grasp destiny by the horns and ride it with tenacity and purpose. Undoubtedly, time changes some things, but unless one takes ownership of how he spends that fleeting commodity, he may discover one day that years have passed and he has been standing still. Before long, the practiced routine of prison might spin the clock hands faster, leaving the unaware decimated by its wasting disease.
Doing time, rather than letting time do you, requires purpose. This can be difficult in an environment that robs one of purpose and that discourages any sense of responsibility and resolution. The hands of time can never be slowed, but they can be put to work, forming one's moral character through the influence of wise authors, repairing one's harms through steadfast commitment to do the right thing, and rescuing others through a dedicated commitment to help weaken the influence of wasted time.
Time has still robbed me of much of my hair, leaving the remainder prematurely gray, but early on in my sentence I determined to take charge of my time, using it in ways that would not leave me looking back in regret at the years I've spent in prison. I may not be able to do anything about the limitations prison places on my time, or about when my clock will stop its ticking, but I can and I do use this time in ways that I hope will one day make a significant difference in repairing the harms I've done.
Richard, in Shakespeare's Richard II IV.4
Prison is full of colloquialisms and pithy sayings which are passed down from generation to generation of imprisoned "sages." Sometimes these sayings carry wisdom designed to help new prisoners, "the smell of McDonald's fresh on their breath," navigate the complexities of prison isolation. Still others offer advice on surviving the dangers of prison or thriving despite the restrictions of being locked away.
Not all these words of wisdom come in colloquial form; some are simply common sense (which, unfortunately, is not so common in prison). "Mind your own business," "Keep your nose clean," "Brush your teeth before breakfast so you don't offend others at your table," "Clean up your own mess," and "Don't be friendly with the 'po-leese'" are just a few of these common sense words of advice. I've seen many a man in prison land himself in trouble by ignoring these astute directives, and others who have benefited by following them.
Perhaps the most common saying I have heard in my time in prison has been, "You do time; don't let time do you." Reminiscent of Shakespeare's Richard II quote above, this saying urges the listener to take control over the one commodity that cannot be taken from him: time. Rather than simply existing within the circumstances in which one finds his earthly time clock ticking, one is urged to grasp destiny by the horns and ride it with tenacity and purpose. Undoubtedly, time changes some things, but unless one takes ownership of how he spends that fleeting commodity, he may discover one day that years have passed and he has been standing still. Before long, the practiced routine of prison might spin the clock hands faster, leaving the unaware decimated by its wasting disease.
Doing time, rather than letting time do you, requires purpose. This can be difficult in an environment that robs one of purpose and that discourages any sense of responsibility and resolution. The hands of time can never be slowed, but they can be put to work, forming one's moral character through the influence of wise authors, repairing one's harms through steadfast commitment to do the right thing, and rescuing others through a dedicated commitment to help weaken the influence of wasted time.
Time has still robbed me of much of my hair, leaving the remainder prematurely gray, but early on in my sentence I determined to take charge of my time, using it in ways that would not leave me looking back in regret at the years I've spent in prison. I may not be able to do anything about the limitations prison places on my time, or about when my clock will stop its ticking, but I can and I do use this time in ways that I hope will one day make a significant difference in repairing the harms I've done.
Prison Mail Policy Changes Reduce Family Connections
| It is undisputed that maintaining healthy, positive connections with family and friends is an important element to reducing prisoner re-offense rates. Studies have shown that these strong family and community relationships are essential to lowering an offender's risk of re-offending. Nevertheless, the Michigan Department of Corrections (MDOC) has enacted policies over the last decade or so that have limited the fostering and maintenance of these healthy relationships. A few years ago the MDOC reduced visiting days to five days a week, eliminating two visiting days. This increased the number of visitors on the available days, meaning that more and more visits are terminated after an hour because of the unavailability of seating in visiting rooms. Additionally, some prisons further limited visiting opportunities by eliminating morning visits, and restricting which days prisoners may receive visits according to their prison number. Now, the MDOC has changed mail rules, adding burdensome restrictions to the mail prisoners may receive. Some of the recent changes to the MDOC mail policy (P.D. 05.03.118) include: * All mail must be in blue or black ink, or graphite, including no colored printing. * No adhesives at all, including glue, stamps, return address labels, whiteout, and stickers. * No non-white or heavy weight paper (including construction paper). * No security envelopes. * No references to other Michigan prisoners, including in newspaper articles. These new restrictions mean fathers cannot receive drawings, or colorings from their children unless they are on plain, white paper and done with blue or black ink or graphite pencil. God-forbid should a father receive any coloring from his child. Additionally, prison mail rooms are transferring all prisoner mail to MDOC supplied envelopes before they are sent to the prisoner, meaning prisoners do not have return addresses unless they are written on the letter by the sender. Original envelopes are destroyed without notice to the prisoner. This limits the prisoners' ability to respond to those who send them mail. Some applications of these restrictions are also limiting prisoners' access to religious and rehabilitative material. The huge added cost to the MDOC budget from supplying new envelopes for every piece of prisoner mail, and the added cost of overtime for the mail room staff who are overwhelmed by these new rules, ought to be a significant concern to taxpayers and lawmakers who want to lower the already burgeoning $2+ billion corrections budget in Michigan. Budget concerns notwithstanding, Michigan residents ought to also be concerned about these new excessive MDOC rules, excused by the department as "security measures," because they limit prisoners' rehabilitative options and connections to family and friends. Michigan voters need to voice their opposition to these policies and encourage legislation and MDOC policies that foster rehabilitation, reintegration, and restoration. Please call or email your lawmakers today to urge a fix to this problem. |
Thursday, January 4, 2018
Unlikely Encouragement Warms the Heart
Michigan's prisoners are required to attend an employment readiness workshop as they get close to their time for release from prison. For the last year, I have had the privilege of volunteering as a facilitator in the Employment Readiness program at the Handlon Correctional facility.
I, and several other Calvin Prison Initiative students, volunteer to facilitate these classes as a way for us to give back to our fellow prisoners just a fraction of the immense blessing we have been given through our bachelor's degree program. As a part of our facilitation, we cover preparing effective resumes, awareness of body language during interviews, the meaning of interview questions, and we end the series of classes with mock job interviews by a panel of facilitators. We intentionally make the mock interviews stressful in order to lessen a prisoner's anxiety when he faces a real job interview.
Recently, we were in the final day of our workshop, mock interviews, and two of the men present were very timid and extremely nervous to participate. It is not mandatory to participate in the mock interviews, but we do encourage each man to risk participating in order to gain the experience. I was somewhat surprised that one particular young man volunteered to be "interrogated" in a mock interview. He had just seen several others go before him, at least one of which experienced the "bad cop" interrogation from one of the panel interviewers.
This young man, I'll call him Zach, was very nervous when he sat down for his interview. He had difficulty maintaining eye contact, he swiveled in the chair we use specifically to test one's ability to control nervous body language, and he stumbled terribly in answering the first softball question we lobbed at him: "Tell us a little about yourself." After we gave him some time to compose himself, he answered the question briefly and barely looked at the interviewers. As we continued the interview, though, he improved, gaining some control of his anxiety and answering questions with longer responses. At times, he even maintained eye contact for more than ten seconds. It wasn't a great interview, but it was a huge step for this young man in building the confidence he needed to have when an employer would come to the prison to interview him for a job (this happens quite often here because of the Vocational Village at this prison).
After each interview, the panel provides the prisoner with both positive feedback and constructive criticism, and then we open it up for other participants to provide peer feedback. This helps each participant pay attention to the techniques we had previously taught so when it is his turn, he is more aware of them. I was very surprised to find that when it came time for Zach's peer feedback, it was nearly all positive. The other men in the room, contrary to what one would expect (and what one normally observes) in prison, rallied around him and praised him for his courage in participating. Without nitpicking his performance, they boosted his confidence and encouraged him. It was heartwarming to see.
Prisoners are not always what is depicted on television. In fact, we rarely are. This heartwarming scene showed that many prisoners, who themselves need encouragement, are willing to encourage another man when he needs it. We are, after all, just broken men in search of healing and redemption.
I, and several other Calvin Prison Initiative students, volunteer to facilitate these classes as a way for us to give back to our fellow prisoners just a fraction of the immense blessing we have been given through our bachelor's degree program. As a part of our facilitation, we cover preparing effective resumes, awareness of body language during interviews, the meaning of interview questions, and we end the series of classes with mock job interviews by a panel of facilitators. We intentionally make the mock interviews stressful in order to lessen a prisoner's anxiety when he faces a real job interview.
Recently, we were in the final day of our workshop, mock interviews, and two of the men present were very timid and extremely nervous to participate. It is not mandatory to participate in the mock interviews, but we do encourage each man to risk participating in order to gain the experience. I was somewhat surprised that one particular young man volunteered to be "interrogated" in a mock interview. He had just seen several others go before him, at least one of which experienced the "bad cop" interrogation from one of the panel interviewers.
This young man, I'll call him Zach, was very nervous when he sat down for his interview. He had difficulty maintaining eye contact, he swiveled in the chair we use specifically to test one's ability to control nervous body language, and he stumbled terribly in answering the first softball question we lobbed at him: "Tell us a little about yourself." After we gave him some time to compose himself, he answered the question briefly and barely looked at the interviewers. As we continued the interview, though, he improved, gaining some control of his anxiety and answering questions with longer responses. At times, he even maintained eye contact for more than ten seconds. It wasn't a great interview, but it was a huge step for this young man in building the confidence he needed to have when an employer would come to the prison to interview him for a job (this happens quite often here because of the Vocational Village at this prison).
After each interview, the panel provides the prisoner with both positive feedback and constructive criticism, and then we open it up for other participants to provide peer feedback. This helps each participant pay attention to the techniques we had previously taught so when it is his turn, he is more aware of them. I was very surprised to find that when it came time for Zach's peer feedback, it was nearly all positive. The other men in the room, contrary to what one would expect (and what one normally observes) in prison, rallied around him and praised him for his courage in participating. Without nitpicking his performance, they boosted his confidence and encouraged him. It was heartwarming to see.
Prisoners are not always what is depicted on television. In fact, we rarely are. This heartwarming scene showed that many prisoners, who themselves need encouragement, are willing to encourage another man when he needs it. We are, after all, just broken men in search of healing and redemption.
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