I swear! Every day at my job by 11:05 I say, ‘J 1 D 19-Lower, 78756, Wardlow’ like I’m rapping! Repetition blinds the animals for slaughter. Like damn, all this robotics is designed to dehumanize me and yet send me back to society to full function while being programmed. To hold a people captive, you do not try to empower them, because if they become smarter, then your power will be less effective. They rather us subservient and docile. I heard a quote saying never expect powerful people to teach powerless people how to gain power. Prison breeds mules and sheep, not shepherds. Compliant by repetition, which reconditions, brainwashes and desensitizes our view of self when NAME becomes INMATE NUMBER, Bunk and Location. We are stripped externally and even more internally. I am more item and subject, then person and object. We herd into lines or move in masses back and forth by scheduled prompts like mindless animals. I can’t wait to be a person again.
Culture
Pro se Con-tint: Politics, Parole, People
Politics. Prison is governed by politics. We learn from politics, we emulate a structure, code, and a means of survival/order through politics. Politics are quid pro quo. There can’t be order without moralistic compromises. And so in prison, which is a place of disruption and order. If you aren’t a source of power/respect, in return you have less of a voice. We watch local and world news, because we worry about the world we are going back into. Will we fit back in? And how it affects our loved ones because it directly affects the energy inside these walls. Today I walked into a group of friends, (all black), speaking about politics in detail and with passion. One argued looking at the outside bigger picture, and the other took the stance of being the guy directly affected by these policies, stereotypes, and assumptions that result in the lack of chances given because of what others have done. Even more, the argument was centralized around whether our black senator that fights for the inmates-if he really gives a fuck. But I made the point, the thing about politics is you have to give to get your agenda through, quid pro quo. But It’s not easy here, we have a governor that is so pro capital punishment that he went in his own pockets to get a drug not cleared by FDA to start executions again in our state. We see, we hear, we feel and all we can do is think and debate because still a felon’s opinion doesn’t matter anyway. And they won’t let us forget that.
Warning: Rated M, for LSV
The parole board asked a convict, if he saw someone on his mom, would he help his mom, or go run and get/call the police. This answer was the decider on whether he’d get paroled or not. He said he’d help his mom, they sent him out briefly, clearly not liking his answer. When he came back in, he held his tongue and told them what they wanted to hear..”now that I thought on it more, I’d go call the police for help” politics…he had to play their game, and yet still didn’t get paroled after he told them what they wanted to hear…now take a moment and think about what just happened…now what would you do? And should that answer keep you in prison? The price of freedom…compromise in prison is likened to being a whore being fucked by the key holders until they’ve gotten every bit of pleasure drained from you, now go back to society with your head held down, or we’ll beat out every inclination left in you. Raw, but real.
People argue about debating in prison and an innocent debate turns into a heated or violent argument. No one wants to debate because they say it’s arguing. We debate a lot about whether debating and arguing are different…point is, connotations form the attitudes behind actions. In prison, it’s arguing..in politics, it’s debating..and peaceful disagreements and jabs don’t live here. We fight over brains with bronze..irony? Bronze can rival brains, but brains can’t rival bronze? Contradiction…aren’t most of our rationales? So how then can prison contrast from real life? When there’s no space to solve and heal differences, then there is nothing left but collisions. Ironically a cage forces the animal out of you, and space to roam- can supplement those animal traits within us all. Thoughts cultivated to instincts are people cultivated into animals.
Prison Dad
Shame face. So I’m here, who am I to say what’s best for a child in the realm of speaking or reconnecting with his father that resides in prison. I do believe the role of fathers is under-valued, just the way my second son lights up at times and he’s never met me since an infant. I guess my only opinion for others is, don’t make a decision for your child that reflects more your personal feelings than their real needs. A child can’t think or put wants into words like adults. We baby them too much when we shouldn’t, and then treat them like adults with decisions they can’t fully understand. I figure I’ll love my sons best by respecting their mothers’ wishes not add pressure or confusion. My youngest son doesn’t listen to me because he is his mother’s son, but really because I was so happy to speak with him that everything he did, good or bad, was so funny to me, I unknowingly encouraged his behavior showing him I’m the nice guy, which I am! He thinks he can beat me up at times, (pssh! boy please!) he loves me, but I guess I don’t know how to show the proper amount of authority when all I feel is joy yet caution being able to experience him. I don’t want to lose him, so how do I father best? I’m still figuring that out, I’ve read books, took classes, but when you have your beautiful reflection interacting with you and you don’t have to deal with the day to day stresses, everything he does-even when he doesn’t want to talk because he is busy watching his shows (like father like son)- I still get joy from it. I can only imagine when we have our first visit! Nothing more I love and feel obligated to than fatherhood. But my sons Josiah, 9 and Treyvan, 6 don’t know each other.
Pro se Con-tints: Justice Cold, Just Ice Cold
There are answers we don’t understand, so it’s encumbant we try to search for them, not just assume the void of a reason understand is good enough to not trek in order to concoct your own safe assumption. Learning doesn’t stop once you’ve grown from adolescence. I was sentenced by a judge that never looked me in the eye and his last words were “… because you are so smart I’m giving you this much time…” I’ll leave you to your own philosophy what he meant, and how a punishment with those words can never be given fairly as opposed to being so stupid or ignorant, would I have gotten more or less? And then before the parole board dismissed me, a man asked me what schools I went to and the education tests I took upon coming to prison. I maxed every subject, so how can someone so smart have this..and he turned the screen showing my misconduct history my first four years, not caring that I have been write up free this past year and more. So I guess he’s saying I should be smart enough to shut up and be docile? Or there’s a problem with me and not the system because intelligence mixed with unfavored behavior doesn’t make sense in his world, prison has no room for intellect! Hmm, riots, institutional racism, emotional trauma, gang violence, loneliness, prison life in general and racial divides, the threat of danger, and the loss of friends/family must play no role at all! Then he finishes his statement telling me that I am so smart that I can actually help people do their time, I have enough time left to really make a difference, but the fact that that’s been my mission which he never got to fully comprehend because I wasn’t heard nor allotted efficient time to speak because of their hectic schedule and if I’m being honest-what also seemed to be a lack of care, he went on to advise me of what I’ve taken on day in and day out but in his mind I can help my cons within the two years they rather I wait. Hypocrisy or ignorance? Had he not asked, I’d have been dismissed within 90 seconds..they didn’t even know I finished a program they favor and recommended, and I quote, “Oh!” (check mark). Oh! You gotta love it!
Pro se Con-tints: “One day” will come
What is it called when you have an appointment or meeting scheduled, and you bring all your reassuring references that draw your picture of experience and skills. You dress your best in order to impress. You pace in your mind about how you will handle yourself and the things you will say once you are called in awaiting a chance at a new venture and opportunity. Sitting and sitting, waiting, positive self talk, knowing you are capable, worthy, and ready. Believing you can handle anything thrown at you, even if you aren’t given the chance you are so hoping for…your reverie is interrupted as you are called into their office/conference room. It’s a few of them, not just one…but you prepared yourself for surprises. When you say so much and so little is heard, and then once it’s all said and done, they’ve looked at your resume, heard your story and believe they have all they needed to make an educated assertion of your value within their proprietorship…but the decision isn’t in your favor. You weren’t worth the financial risk, the timing wasn’t right, it’s not them-it’s you kinda thing…demeaning, maybe even embarrassed you felt, sitting in a chair waiting to be judged and then refused. Worth, value, hope desolated in one denial. You didn’t get it…comeback in a few years, maybe next time…to you, that was a job interview..to me, that was a freedom interview in front of a parole board. Drawing the line between ‘not enough’ and ‘too much’. That line is a question mark. When did years become so casual a unit of measuring “wait”? One day will come, and I will go. But what, who, how many and much will I lose by then?
Pro se Con-tints: Hate to see you go..
Hate to see you go…but I love watching you walk away.
Being at this new facility is bitter sweet. You get to see so many people leave week after week, the changeover is spectacular and generates hope…until you see the next bunch of people pouring in. And suddenly you’re reminded of the well oiled machine still in its perfecting perpetuating cycle, replacing old parts with new parts. But within this cycle, you find yourself getting attached to some of the gears, though attachment is the least on your list of needs. But sometimes you can’t help but to vibe with a kin spirit enduring your same strife. Those bonds create a haven within this cycle of time and make it all the more bearable. They become a part of your schedule…a valuable part of your day and the up keeping of your hope, sanity, and strength. Things are always kept in perspective, until that gear which shifts you so effortless has reached its life span and it is his time to depart. You dread the day, yet you are happy for him, you don’t wish to trade places, only to not feel the void that will accompany his absence. You try to withdraw slowly, even making jokes about pulling away to soften the blow of his upcoming disappearing act, but you still want to be as supportive as possible and replant the necessary tools in his mind to not comeback to this factory. And then…he’s gone. Bitter, SWEET. My day will come, one day…and until then, I hate to see them go but love to see them walk away.