Tiny House Living -- Prison Edition

 The last several years, I've been fascinated by the tiny house craze. I don't know if it's still going on because we no longer get the HGTV cable channel; however, it was really interesting to me to see how much creativity people could fit into a little space. 

You'd think that I'd hate the idea of a tiny house, given the tiny cells I've lived in for 16 years. But I don't hate the idea. I'm not sure it's practical for my life, but I'm sort of drawn to it anyway. 

My current cell is 6' x 9'. (A 250 square foot tiny home sounds like a mansion to me!) My cell isn't a lot of space, especially when you consider that there's a bed, a desk and chair, a locker, a sink, and a toilet all taking up floor space. I can literally stretch my hands out and touch the side walls at the same time. There's about 20 inches of space between my bed and my desk. If I had the flu (which thankfully I haven't!), I wouldn't even have to get out of bed to throw up. I could just lean over the toilet next to my head. Yeah. It's not ideal, but it's what I'm working with. You just learn to make the best of things.

In prison, I've learned to be more adaptable. I've had bunkies that were difficult to get along with. But what are my choices? I learned to adapt and get along, even if just enough. I've also been in cube settings with eight bunks in a cubical setting. It's crowded and loud, and some guys never clean. So, I'm grateful to have a single-man cell where I can be the only one responsible for keeping things neat and in order. It's not private, but it's my "own" space. 

I like things neat and in order, and with such a small space, I have had to learn to be creative. It requires following rules for how my cell is supposed to look, while also figuring out how to store stuff out of the way, but still easily accessible. It's sort of like a concrete tiny house, minus the kitchenette. 

Perhaps I love tiny houses because I like to see how creative people are with their spaces. I also want to live simply. Prison has taught me to be far less materialistic, to find many uses for everything I own, and to be comfortable with less. Americans often want big cars, big houses, and big toys. But they also have big bills to go with it all. I don't need big bills after I leave prison. 

I'll be leaving prison in just over a year from now, and I'm looking forward to living simply. I don't need many things to feel content. I've come to value relationships and experiences more than things. I've missed relationships and experiences the most during my time in prison, not all the stuff that used to clutter my life. 

I may not live in a tiny house after prison, but I certainly hope to adopt the concept of simple living anyway. Wherever I live, it'll be better than a 6' x 9' concrete cell.

Who Serves the Time When the State Violates a Law?

 In much of the last sixteen years I've spent in prison so far, I've spent time in the law library nearly every week. I've worked on researching issues related to my own case, learned how to write briefs and motions (filing many of both in my own case), researched issues for other prisoners, and stayed abreast of issues relevant to me. I even recently wrote a motion and amicus curiae brief to the Michigan Supreme Court (which they accepted) for an issue important to me. 

Incidentally, regardless of what happens with that issue, I was thrilled to have the Michigan Supreme Court accept my brief. I've never heard of another prisoner successfully writing an amicus curiae brief, though I'm quite sure it's been done before. The Court will hear this issue next month, and I'm anxious to hear of the outcome, and especially how my arguments prevailed or persuaded the Court (if at all). 

As I continue to research important issues, including state legislation, I sometimes run across interesting legal facts. Such was the case with a recent trip to the law library. 

I was intrigued to note that Michigan has a law punishing people for "holding an individual in debt bondage" (MCL 750.462c). Violations of this prohibition are subject to up to ten years in prison. At first, this statute didn't strike me as odd in any way. It was part of a broader set of statutes prohibiting things like involuntary servitude, forced prostitution, and the like. But then something struck me. 

Michigan imprisons people for failing to pay child support. That's debt bondage, by definition. Michigan also violates probationers and parolees for failing to pay court costs and fines, often returning them to jail or prison. That's debt bondage. 

I'm not suggesting that Michigan should do away with punishing debt bondage. We need a law like this to protect the vulnerable, especially immigrants who are often forced into slavery to pay for their trip to America. What I am suggesting is that Michigan ought to consider the duplicity of this law. What's good for the goose is good for the gander. 

Debt bondage has been vilified since Charles Dickens wrote some of his famous novels on the subject. It ought to be illegal, but Dicken's novels were critical of the State's involvement in debt bondage -- something still happening more than 150 years later. The irony is that debts can't be paid off when someone is in prison making an average of less than $20 per month. 

I wonder why nobody (that I know of) has ever challenged incarceration for unpaid debt, like child support or court fees, using this statute? Surely the courts would see the duplicity in the State punishing citizens for the very thing they do. Just something interesting to think about.

Reconnecting in Prison: Forging Lasting Friendships Behind Bars

 The nature of prison is very transient. Prisoners can be uprooted at any time and sent to a different prison. And what further complicates things is that prison rules prohibit prisoners from communicating with each other from prison to prison (even through intermediaries). 

Yet, the shared experiences of prisoners means we sometimes form deep friendships with each other. I've formed some of the closest friendships I've ever had with other prisoners. And then one day, we're yanked apart by transfers, and our close friendship suffers. 

When I was in the Calvin Prison Initiative (Calvin University), earning a bachelor's degree in prison, I spent 6 years at MTU, a prison in Ionia, Michigan. I spent these years with guys who not only shared my same prison experiences, but they also sometimes shared similar backgrounds, and we attended the same college together. We built very strong bonds, forged by common experiences and strengthened through mutual pride in our university. 

When I was transferred to SMT in Jackson, Michigan, I lost contact with my friends. I was thrust into an environment where I knew very few people, and I had no close friends. It was definitely challenging, though it also forced me to form new friendships and connections. Still, none were as close as those I'd formed with my Calvin brothers. 

Then, last week four more Calvin graduates rode into this prison facility. They are in a different housing unit, so we haven't been able to spend much time together; however, it's felt great to have some of my buddies in the same place again! Although we've been unable to communicate for the last 2 1/2 years, it's like we haven't been separated at all. We just picked up where we left off. 

I don't know how long some of these friendships will last. Some are undoubtedly friends for this season, some for a specific reason, and some for life. I know at least a couple of other prisoners who have become brothers for life. 

In a society increasingly marked by disconnection and fleeting relationships, my prison experience reminds me of the importance of lasting friendships. Even though we often come from very different walks of life, our shared experiences are the fertile soil in which connection grows. 

If you've felt disconnected lately, try reaching out to a friend and let them know they are important to you. Healthy, lasting friendships bring a lot of joy and a sense of belonging to life.