Prisoners are Measured By Our Worst Choices

"No one deserves to be measured by the worst thing he has ever done." 

A prisoner advocate friend of mine made this powerful statement to me several years ago 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: former president Bill Clinton is remembered largely for the Monica Lewinsky scandal, Jim Baker is remembered as a womanizing cheater, OJ Simpson as a murderer who got away with it, and Bernie Madhoff as a greedy scam artist. All 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. Others, either in a moment of weakness or through an unrestrained passion, erased a lifelong reputation of trustworthiness in a single act.

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 refuses to out of rebellion. Others are suffering the consequences of a single bad choice, or even the accumulation of a series of bad choices. These choices forever altered their lives and often the lives of others. But must these choices forever define these men? Must one forever remain a drug dealer, a robber, a rapist, or a murderer? 

Politicians, celebrities, and wealthy and influential people often hire public relations firms to remake a tarnished image; however, most criminals have neither the resources nor the wherewithal to conduct such a makeover. Instead, 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 choices; instead, we must begin to define a pathway towards wholeness so those who regret their worst choices can use them as sign posts for where their change began, not as edifices to where their lives ended. 

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?

A Prison Saga of Bedroll Bedlam

"I WANT MY ****** ******* BEDROLL, NOW!!!"

Across the cell from mine, the prisoner in administrative segregation (the hole) shouted loudly. He followed this with more expletives and railings against the corrections officers and loud banging against his metal locker. He'd been sitting in the cell for several hours without any linens for his bed, or even a roll of tissue in case he needed to use the toilet. 

For the next several hours, the same prisoner threatened prison guards, other prisoners, and even family members of both. Other idiots in the housing unit mocked him loudly, egging him on and hyping him up with their mockery. He responded by throwing urine out of his cell onto whomever was passing by on base.

In response to his antics, the officers talked to him, trying to negotiate better behavior from him. It didn't work. He talked quietly with them while they stood at his door, but as soon as they left, he called them every name he could think of and resumed his threats against everyone in the housing unit. 

This prisoner had the gall to even demand that other prisoners provide him with snacks to eat, the same people he had just thrown urine at. One would think that he had gone crazy, but apparently it's worked for him before. 

Continuing his theatrics, the prisoner then "barricaded" himself in his room, covering his bars in front and back with his locker and bedframe. The officers had difficulty seeing him in his cell at all. Soon, other officers were called, and more negotiations continued. After thirty minutes or so, he "surrendered" to the officers, only to be put in an observation cell, where he was stripped to a suicide watch outfit and afforded no linens at all. So much for his earlier demands. 

Other prisoners continued to antagonize and harass the man, for no reason other than their own childishness. I feel like I'm surrounded by a daycare of man-children sometimes. 

In retaliation for the mockery, and because of his anger in general, the prisoner now in observation decided to keep the entire housing unit awake all night. He repeatedly kicked his plexiglass covered cell door very loudly every ten minutes or so, all night long. Every time I would start to drift off to sleep, I would be startled awake by the loud banging and yelling. 

Fortunately, this prisoner was transferred to a higher security level the next day. He had been playing a crazy role to try to get to a prison for prisoners with acute mental illness. It didn't work, and now he's on his way to a high security level. His threats against the officers (not us prisoners) and his flashing of female medical staff earned him several misconducts that likely increased his security level. 

I do not understand why some prisoners intentionally make their prison time difficult with such behavior. I suppose they have their reasons, but I just don't get it. If it is intentional and an act, like this guy claimed it was, at the very least it demonstrates an inability to abide by social norms. It shows a marked lack of social awareness and decorum. 

This prisoner will complete his maximum sentence in three years, so he doesn't care. He'll leave prison and enter society, with a record of prison behavior that will undoubtedly be repeated in society. He is highly likely to return to prison within the first few months of his release, if he even survives that long. 

It's sad, but it's a reality in prison. Some prisoners are entrenched in their antisocial behaviors and have absolutely no interest in conformity to any sense of normalcy. They think only of themselves and have no concern for anyone else. 

I don't know what the answer is to dealing with prisoners like this, and clearly the system itself has no clue either. They can try to coerce behavior changes, but Michigan has no incentive for prisoners to change. Even if they did, I doubt this prisoner, or others like him, would place much value on the incentive. For some, prison is about the best they can hope for in life, and that's tragically sad. 

Tonight, I hope to sleep a little more soundly, until the next prisoner with uncontrollable behavior shows up. I wonder how long that will be? 

"Go and sin no more"--How Self-Forgiveness Leads to Change

 In my fourteen years, so far, in prison, I have encountered numerous prisoners who appear to have no remorse for what they've done. I suspect that many of these do, in fact, regret their past crimes and the harms they've caused, but they feel it'd be a weakness to display regret or remorse. A few, undoubtedly, actually have no regrets. 

Yet, as I look around me, at the sea of men on every side, I'm struck by the amount of pain and hurt weighing these men down. It's difficult to carry around the pain of causing others pain. When we hurt others, even indirectly, we damage our own souls too. It's no wonder some of these men cannot break the chains of their addictions. It's no wonder some of them live into the belief that they are worthless and will never amount to anything more than a criminal. 

When society and many of our victims want us to rot in hell, it's difficult to do the inner work that is required for change. It's difficult to forgive yourself when others think you don't deserve forgiveness. Sometimes it's easier to wear our shame like a mantle and to embrace our brokenness rather than to have the courage to say to ourselves, "I forgive you. Now, go and sin no more." 

If we're not careful, forgiving ourselves can feel like and be perceived as dismissal of the pain we've caused. It can look like justification or absolution. It is neither though. Forgiving ourselves begins with honesty and responsibility. It means committing to only deal with the truth and to be willing to say with all sincerity, "I did that." 

Forgiving oneself is a necessary tool to battling the insidious and crippling power of shame. But self-forgiveness is not a one-time thing. It is an ongoing action, a necessary action in the journey of healing and redemption. 

It's difficult to look at oneself honestly and to believe forgiveness is possible. Some things feel impossible to forgive. How can you forgive yourself when the people you've harmed are still suffering? It can feel a bit arrogant to even try. It might be easier to sit in the shame instead.

Self-forgiveness, though, is critical to change. And those we've hurt deserve us to change. They deserve us putting in the difficult and heart-wrenching work of admitting to ourselves and others the truth of our actions and their consequences. Without that honest output of self-reflection, I don't believe we can truly change. We remain, instead, bound to our past, increasing our chances of repeating it. 

Although I long for the forgiveness of others, I know I have no right to ask for it. Forgiveness is a grace, and grace is undeserved. I'm quite certain that I don't deserve forgiveness. But knowing I don't deserve others' forgiveness does not mean that I should resign myself to brokenness. Even if others may never forgive me, I can begin by forgiving myself. 

I'll always hold regret for my past--it is the guardrail that keeps me from driving off the same cliff. But I can live with regret while still forgiving myself. It's necessary, in fact, if I'm going to be the man I should have been all along. 

I offer myself forgiveness for my past wrongs, but I do so responsibly. I only do so after committing to deal only with truth, to accept full responsibility for the harms I caused, and by recognizing that I have failed to live up to the dignity and divine image God has given to each one of us. 

I know I can do better, and I am committed to. But in order to live into that reality, I have to learn to let go of the shame and condemnation that works to keep me bound to who I used to be. I forgive myself.

Senseless Prison Practices Silence Free Speech

 The United States Constitution protects First Amendment rights of free speech. This protection has been applied in various settings in a variety of ways, including in a prison context. The United States Supreme Court has held, in important rulings over the past several decades, that prisoners enjoy First Amendment protections, too, though understandably limited in some circumstances. 

An important Supreme Court case critical to the protection of prisoners' First Amendment rights is Turner v Safley (482 US 78 (1987)). This case sets a five point standard by which First Amendment questions are evaluated for prisoners. The problem is that the State of Michigan, at least, has essentially ignored this standard when evaluating prisoners' First Amendment rights. 

In particular, some Michigan prisons have begun, especially in the last few years, to adopt a very strict practice of censorship. Prisoners who write books or articles are being prevented from receiving copies of their published works. Entire publications are being censored at prisons where a prisoner author resides, if his work is in the publication. Even books of poetry authored by prisoners are being censored. 

Nowhere in Michigan's prison policy are prisoners prohibited from receiving copies of their own published works, but that doesn't stop the Department from enforcing an unwritten policy to suppress prisoner expression of free speech. Prison policy specifically prohibits censorship of material that is deemed controversial or even repugnant, but prison staff censor all prisoner writings anyway. 

Prisoners who disagree with such decisions have access to a grievance system. They can file a grievance against the decision maker, or even challenge the basis for such a decision. But for years now, Michigan's grievance system has been useless. Grievance coordinators and other staff have conspired to ignore policy requirements for proper grievance processing, but stringently require absolute adherence to policy by prisoners. 

Grievances are not investigated, prisoners are not afforded their rightful hearing, and policy requirements are routinely ignored, or worse, blatantly violated. There is virtually no oversight that holds the Department of Corrections accountable to follow the rules. 

The Michigan Legislature has an "Ombudsman" whose job it is to review complaints about department violations of law and policy. The current Ombudsman has held his position for decades, and his department routinely ignores or brushes off patterns of abuse by the Michigan Department of Corrections. There is in practice almost no accountability to ensure prisoners are being treated fairly and according to firmly established law. 

Constitutionalists are deeply concerned about the growing practice of censorship in America. Education, business, and politics are not the only realms where free speech and free exchange of ideas are under fire. Prison officials, too, are systematically silencing the voices of prisoners, perhaps seeking to protect a system that is marked by rampant failure and shockingly deep apathy.  

It's a sad, sad day in America when prisoners are not allowed to receive even a notebook of blank lined paper. God forbid should they journal about their prison experiences or write down their own thoughts. What exactly are prison officials trying to protect with such severe, senseless, and unconstitutional censorship practices? 
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Check out my book that the Michigan Department of Corrections has censored (though at least one official believed it would make great training material for new officers!). It dares to pull back the curtain on life in Michigan prisons and empower families to help prisoners truly change. Insider's Guide to Prison Life is available now on Amazon.com.