If I'm being frank with you, my readers, I've been feeling a bit out of touch with things lately. I've stopped watching the news because it's nothing but doom and gloom. So, I've no idea what is really happening in the nation and world right now. I've also been quite busy with school, a new job as a vocational trades tutor, and a few other things that have kept my hand to the plow, so to speak. In short, I normally keep my ear to the ground for noteworthy news, interesting stories, or hot button topics to talk about in this blog. This week, though, I'll just note some brief things of interest.
This week at MTU, the school building will be shut down for two days as the prison administration partners with the Secretary of State's office and generates state ID cards for all prisoners who have an out-date (they will eventually parole). Rather than prisoners waiting until they parole to get their IDs, they'll parole with one in hand. The MDOC will also be obtaining vital documents (birth certificates and social security cards) for these prisoners at the same time. This should make the parole transition a bit easier. I am unsure if the department will be doing this statewide at this time.
The Michigan Prisoner Rehabilitation Credit Act (www.mprca.info) was unable to collect enough signatures to put the petition for restoration of good time on the ballot due to the coronavirus pandemic. Nevertheless, I have also been told (but have not been able to verify) that the federal courts are currently considering whether or not the Act will be put on the ballot anyway because of unconstutitional restraints on signature collections. Look for news on this here and elsewhere so you can educate other voters on the benefits of voting for the Act.
The MDOC has begun limited prisoner transfers again. Apparently, prisoners who are transferred to other facilities have first been isolated for 14 days and been tested for the coronavirus in an effort to reduce the spread of the virus. At MTU the majority of prisoners who have transferred in have come from Jackson quarantine where all new prison admissions are processed. As far as I know, no other lateral transfers have taken place here.
We have no news yet on the return of visits or volunteers to prison. While I'm sure the MDOC and the Michigan government are trying to determine the best time to reopen, the resurgence of coronavirus cases in many states will likely delay our return to normal operations. In the meantime, we are all still required to wear masks at all times (except in the shower or while eating).
That's all the news for this week.
Tuesday, June 30, 2020
Monday, June 22, 2020
Father's Day Reflections From Prison
Just over a week ago, a good friend of mine approached me beaming with a smile on his face. He was holding his JPay tablet, and he wanted to show me something. After years and years of praying and trying to get in touch, his son that he had not seen or spoken with in over twenty years had contacted him. He'd sent pictures, not only of himself but also of his two children. My friend saw his grandchildren for the first time. Since that day, my friend has spoken on the phone several times with his son, and he's beginning the process of mending years of hurt and abandonment. I was thrilled for his good news.
Another friend has also begun, after twelve years, to heal his relationship with his children's mother as they work towards him rejoining his children's lives. This friend has been instrumental over the last several years of bringing programs into prison to help dads learn how to be better fathers, even from prison. After helping other men re-establish relationships with their children, he's seeing fruit in restored relationships with his own children.
Over the years, I've met many men in prison who, like me, long to have relationships with their kids. For various reasons they are currently unable to, even though they'd give just about anything to reconnect. I've heard the criticisms, "you weren't thinking of your kids when you committed your crime," and "you don't deserve to be a dad...they deserve better." Those criticism are justified, but it doesn't change the fact that many men, after they gain some clarity about their terrible choices, deeply regret leaving their kids without a father. They do deserve better, even from us.
It's almost cliche the cycle of abandonment that exists in prison. So many men have experienced either physical or emotional abandonment or abuse from their own fathers. Many more never knew their fathers. It almost seems inevitable that many would, in turn, abandon or abuse their own kids. Few have had good models to follow. That doesn't excuse their own betrayal of their children, and I seldom hear men blame others for that betrayal. It's just a sad fact. We know we've done our children wrong, and we desperately want to fix that. Most of all, we just want our children to know they are loved and that they matter to us.
There's not a lot of pride in being a father in prison, especially on Father's Day. It hurts like hell, if I'm honest about it. We try to remember the good times, and we revel in pride for our children, even when we're not in their lives. They do deserve better than we've given them, which is why some of us are working so hard to make them proud now. Whether or not we experience the same blessing of reconciliation my two friends are having, many of us will keep hoping it'll be us next. And we'll keep working to do right by our children, even if it is a bit late.
Another friend has also begun, after twelve years, to heal his relationship with his children's mother as they work towards him rejoining his children's lives. This friend has been instrumental over the last several years of bringing programs into prison to help dads learn how to be better fathers, even from prison. After helping other men re-establish relationships with their children, he's seeing fruit in restored relationships with his own children.
Over the years, I've met many men in prison who, like me, long to have relationships with their kids. For various reasons they are currently unable to, even though they'd give just about anything to reconnect. I've heard the criticisms, "you weren't thinking of your kids when you committed your crime," and "you don't deserve to be a dad...they deserve better." Those criticism are justified, but it doesn't change the fact that many men, after they gain some clarity about their terrible choices, deeply regret leaving their kids without a father. They do deserve better, even from us.
It's almost cliche the cycle of abandonment that exists in prison. So many men have experienced either physical or emotional abandonment or abuse from their own fathers. Many more never knew their fathers. It almost seems inevitable that many would, in turn, abandon or abuse their own kids. Few have had good models to follow. That doesn't excuse their own betrayal of their children, and I seldom hear men blame others for that betrayal. It's just a sad fact. We know we've done our children wrong, and we desperately want to fix that. Most of all, we just want our children to know they are loved and that they matter to us.
There's not a lot of pride in being a father in prison, especially on Father's Day. It hurts like hell, if I'm honest about it. We try to remember the good times, and we revel in pride for our children, even when we're not in their lives. They do deserve better than we've given them, which is why some of us are working so hard to make them proud now. Whether or not we experience the same blessing of reconciliation my two friends are having, many of us will keep hoping it'll be us next. And we'll keep working to do right by our children, even if it is a bit late.
Wednesday, June 17, 2020
Is Abolishing the Police the Answer to Injustice?
Current and ongoing calls to abolish or defund the police resonate with many prisoners. Of course the idea of being able to behave however one wishes without legal restraint sounds good to people who have already demonstrated a resistance to authority. What better way to get away with further crime than to abolish the very institution that enforces the law?
The audacity of such revolutionary reforms as abolishing the police is self-evident. Who will respond the next time one of these "revolutionaries" needs emergency help? Community policing will not resolve many emergency situations or protect the public from community menaces. Who will hold offenders responsible when they abuse children, batter spouses, or rob, rape, or murder innocents? Surely those calling for the abolition of police departments do not intend to reinstate private retribution? Imagine the injustices that will flow from that ideology.
Recent actions by some police officers, including those who murdered George Floyd, highlight the persistence of police misconduct and racial injustices. Doing nothing or maintaining the status quo will certainly not resolve the tension that has been boiling over into nationwide protests and demonstrations. Something needs to change, but abolishing the police is plain lunacy.
Better, more consistent, and humane training of police officers is a great start. So is transparency from police departments about officer complaints and disciplinary actions. Another urgently needed reform is abolishing qualified immunity. I've written here in the past about abolishing qualified immunity for prosecutors. No law enforcement officer should be safe from prosecution for intentionally breaking the law. What sort of message does that send to the rest of us who are held accountable for breaking the law?
While we're talking about police reforms, let's also address police practices that target the poor and racial minorities? Laws should be equally enforced, not unjustly applied with more force and regularity towards people of color and lower economic status. That means holding people in power accountable with equal regularity and equal force as the rest of us "little people."
I'm in favor of more community involvement in the justice system, just not a total replacement of police departments. For example, indigenous people often use communal counsels and healing circles to address crime in their communities. This involves a restorative approach to justice, seeking to heal the harms caused to victims and the community at large while aiming also to reintegrate the offender back into good community standing. Nevertheless, not all offenders will be amenable to such approaches and may require a more punitive methodology, at least initially.
Democracy demands that the people rise up and demand change when injustice prevails and people in power fail to act. But groupthink has never been an intelligent approach to policymaking. Angry responses to injustice are justifiable, and radical ideas are sometimes called for. Abolishing the police, though, is more likely to lead to greater injustice, not reduce it. Just ask the prisoners outside my window who can't wait to go to communities where the police have been abolished.
The audacity of such revolutionary reforms as abolishing the police is self-evident. Who will respond the next time one of these "revolutionaries" needs emergency help? Community policing will not resolve many emergency situations or protect the public from community menaces. Who will hold offenders responsible when they abuse children, batter spouses, or rob, rape, or murder innocents? Surely those calling for the abolition of police departments do not intend to reinstate private retribution? Imagine the injustices that will flow from that ideology.
Recent actions by some police officers, including those who murdered George Floyd, highlight the persistence of police misconduct and racial injustices. Doing nothing or maintaining the status quo will certainly not resolve the tension that has been boiling over into nationwide protests and demonstrations. Something needs to change, but abolishing the police is plain lunacy.
Better, more consistent, and humane training of police officers is a great start. So is transparency from police departments about officer complaints and disciplinary actions. Another urgently needed reform is abolishing qualified immunity. I've written here in the past about abolishing qualified immunity for prosecutors. No law enforcement officer should be safe from prosecution for intentionally breaking the law. What sort of message does that send to the rest of us who are held accountable for breaking the law?
While we're talking about police reforms, let's also address police practices that target the poor and racial minorities? Laws should be equally enforced, not unjustly applied with more force and regularity towards people of color and lower economic status. That means holding people in power accountable with equal regularity and equal force as the rest of us "little people."
I'm in favor of more community involvement in the justice system, just not a total replacement of police departments. For example, indigenous people often use communal counsels and healing circles to address crime in their communities. This involves a restorative approach to justice, seeking to heal the harms caused to victims and the community at large while aiming also to reintegrate the offender back into good community standing. Nevertheless, not all offenders will be amenable to such approaches and may require a more punitive methodology, at least initially.
Democracy demands that the people rise up and demand change when injustice prevails and people in power fail to act. But groupthink has never been an intelligent approach to policymaking. Angry responses to injustice are justifiable, and radical ideas are sometimes called for. Abolishing the police, though, is more likely to lead to greater injustice, not reduce it. Just ask the prisoners outside my window who can't wait to go to communities where the police have been abolished.
Monday, June 8, 2020
Choosing Hope Over Fear
It's been a tough few months for everyone. Global quarantines have shuttered businesses, leaving people without jobs, and have increased rates of depression and other mental health issues. People are anxious, scared, depressed, and overwhelmed by a host of negative emotions. The nationwide protests, violence, and outpouring of anger are symptomatic of deep unrest and great hopelessness in our country. I've been feeling it, and I'm largely removed from it since I'm in prison.
Even so, I and many other prisoners have felt increasingly isolated without being able to see our loved ones on visits, and we've been discouraged by perplexing political inaction over prison reforms. If the imminent risk of death for some prisoners does not move politicians to act to protect them, the rest of us feel little hope that legislative or executive action will lead to reduced prison populations. Furthermore, those who are leaving prison during this pandemic face great uncertainty, about their actual parole dates and about what awaits them on the other side.
In short, there's a lot to feel hopeless about.
But this blog is not about hopelessness, despite my feeling that way sometimes. It's about hope on the inside--inside the razor wire fences and inside my heart. I'm normally an optimistic and hopeful person, so it's been difficult to struggle with the wave of hopelessness surrounding me and at times inside me. It's made me have to dig deep, to rely more fully on the source of my hope, which comes from my faith in God.
It's easy to get distracted by the sea of hopelessness around me, but my faith calls me to deepen my well of hope in God when all around me looks hopeless. It also calls me (and you) to act. I have always said that hope is not passive. It is active. I can't do much about the systemic issues of racial inequity that are causing such national unrest. But I can speak up against racism and injustice around me. I can't do much about legislative and political inaction towards prison reform, but I can urge others to act. I can't do much about the jobless situation for returning citizens, but I can encourage them and pray with them as they prepare to leave prison. I can inspire sober life choices, teach basic budgeting, and share ideas about legal ways to make money. I can't visit with loved ones right now, but I can lean into relationships with other prisoners who likewise miss face-to-face visits with loved ones.
Hope is not simply a feeling. It's a choice, and choosing hope means acting radically different in the midst of hopelessness. As someone recently reminded me, it means doing the next right thing. I don't always know what that next thing is, but every day is a new opportunity to let hope win. Every day is an opportunity to choose hope over fear.
Even so, I and many other prisoners have felt increasingly isolated without being able to see our loved ones on visits, and we've been discouraged by perplexing political inaction over prison reforms. If the imminent risk of death for some prisoners does not move politicians to act to protect them, the rest of us feel little hope that legislative or executive action will lead to reduced prison populations. Furthermore, those who are leaving prison during this pandemic face great uncertainty, about their actual parole dates and about what awaits them on the other side.
In short, there's a lot to feel hopeless about.
But this blog is not about hopelessness, despite my feeling that way sometimes. It's about hope on the inside--inside the razor wire fences and inside my heart. I'm normally an optimistic and hopeful person, so it's been difficult to struggle with the wave of hopelessness surrounding me and at times inside me. It's made me have to dig deep, to rely more fully on the source of my hope, which comes from my faith in God.
It's easy to get distracted by the sea of hopelessness around me, but my faith calls me to deepen my well of hope in God when all around me looks hopeless. It also calls me (and you) to act. I have always said that hope is not passive. It is active. I can't do much about the systemic issues of racial inequity that are causing such national unrest. But I can speak up against racism and injustice around me. I can't do much about legislative and political inaction towards prison reform, but I can urge others to act. I can't do much about the jobless situation for returning citizens, but I can encourage them and pray with them as they prepare to leave prison. I can inspire sober life choices, teach basic budgeting, and share ideas about legal ways to make money. I can't visit with loved ones right now, but I can lean into relationships with other prisoners who likewise miss face-to-face visits with loved ones.
Hope is not simply a feeling. It's a choice, and choosing hope means acting radically different in the midst of hopelessness. As someone recently reminded me, it means doing the next right thing. I don't always know what that next thing is, but every day is a new opportunity to let hope win. Every day is an opportunity to choose hope over fear.
Thursday, June 4, 2020
The More Things Change, The More They Stay the Same
This week protests erupted across the nation after George Floyd, an unarmed black man, was killed by a police officer who used excessive force in restraining him. The protests have, sadly, turned into looting and rioting in many cities, and innocent business owners have suffered terribly because of people who use the occasion of well-deserved protests to exploit an opportunity to fulfill their greed. Dr. Martin Luther King would be ashamed of the stain these rioters are putting on the legitimate voice of protest against abuses of authority.
As I watched the news of gathering protests, starting in Minnesota and spreading throughout the country, it occurred to me that these protests were about more than George Floyd's death. His death is tragic, and the officer or officers responsible should be held accountable. But these protests go deeper than this one incident. Yes, it's about systemic injustices that we see again and again played out in the news. Another unarmed black man is killed by police, and the authorities responsible are not held accountable. But it's deeper still. I see these protests as an outpouring of frustration against double standards present in our country.
The first double standard is a racial one. People of color have suffered injustices in this country for hundreds of years, and the system designed to protect citizens against injustice not only fails to protect people of color, but it also inflicts some of these very injustices itself. When 1 in 106 white men are incarcerated in the United States but black men are incarcerated at a rate of 1 in 15, that stinks of an unjust system. Furthermore, those facing the death penalty or serving life or virtual life sentences are disproportionately black, by a wide margin. When two white men can gun down a black man, on camera (in Florida), and not be arrested for more than a month, and when a police officer can kill an unarmed black man and not be arrested until violent protests erupt, something is wrong with our "justice" system.
Another double standard people are tired of is the double standard between people with power and those without. When political cronies are protected by powerful people or summarily pardoned when they are found guilty of a crime, or when laws are enforced against common citizens but not against those in power, something is wrong with our "justice" system. Common citizens protest, sometimes violently, when they see power abused by those who are supposed to uphold the rule of law. They protest because if it can happen to their neighbor, it can happen to them too. Both liberal and conservative commentators and politicians are already playing the blame game for the rioting. I've heard both sides blame extremist groups for organizing and fomenting these violent protests, as if the common citizen has nothing to be angry about. Our leaders, those in power, just don't get it.
Reactions within prison to these protests are mixed. Most prisoners are sad to see their cities burn, but most also understand the frustration of the protesters. Only, we've seen how little changes for the better when light is shined on an unjust system. Soon, the protests will wind down, people will get back to their lives, and still nothing will change. "I can't breathe" will join the slogans "Hands up. Don't shoot" and "Black Lives Matter." They'll be just that--slogans chanted by frustrated citizens and exploited by self-serving politicians. But in the end, little will change. It's no wonder people are angry and frustrated.
As I watched the news of gathering protests, starting in Minnesota and spreading throughout the country, it occurred to me that these protests were about more than George Floyd's death. His death is tragic, and the officer or officers responsible should be held accountable. But these protests go deeper than this one incident. Yes, it's about systemic injustices that we see again and again played out in the news. Another unarmed black man is killed by police, and the authorities responsible are not held accountable. But it's deeper still. I see these protests as an outpouring of frustration against double standards present in our country.
The first double standard is a racial one. People of color have suffered injustices in this country for hundreds of years, and the system designed to protect citizens against injustice not only fails to protect people of color, but it also inflicts some of these very injustices itself. When 1 in 106 white men are incarcerated in the United States but black men are incarcerated at a rate of 1 in 15, that stinks of an unjust system. Furthermore, those facing the death penalty or serving life or virtual life sentences are disproportionately black, by a wide margin. When two white men can gun down a black man, on camera (in Florida), and not be arrested for more than a month, and when a police officer can kill an unarmed black man and not be arrested until violent protests erupt, something is wrong with our "justice" system.
Another double standard people are tired of is the double standard between people with power and those without. When political cronies are protected by powerful people or summarily pardoned when they are found guilty of a crime, or when laws are enforced against common citizens but not against those in power, something is wrong with our "justice" system. Common citizens protest, sometimes violently, when they see power abused by those who are supposed to uphold the rule of law. They protest because if it can happen to their neighbor, it can happen to them too. Both liberal and conservative commentators and politicians are already playing the blame game for the rioting. I've heard both sides blame extremist groups for organizing and fomenting these violent protests, as if the common citizen has nothing to be angry about. Our leaders, those in power, just don't get it.
Reactions within prison to these protests are mixed. Most prisoners are sad to see their cities burn, but most also understand the frustration of the protesters. Only, we've seen how little changes for the better when light is shined on an unjust system. Soon, the protests will wind down, people will get back to their lives, and still nothing will change. "I can't breathe" will join the slogans "Hands up. Don't shoot" and "Black Lives Matter." They'll be just that--slogans chanted by frustrated citizens and exploited by self-serving politicians. But in the end, little will change. It's no wonder people are angry and frustrated.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)