On the Inside, Weeks 9 & 10: Risk
Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.
– C.S. Lewis
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I put myself in prison to heal. This seems like an odd place to do that, but as I mentioned in one of my earlier articles, it was less a choice I made consciously, and more of something I knew I needed to do to work toward letting go of painful experiences that had built up over the preceding six months.
In the moment that had rendered me completely powerless in the way that occurs when your life and the life of someone you care about is threatened in a violent manner, and you are completely at the mercy of someone else’s decision to pull a trigger that may send a bullet into your forehead, I made a promise to myself to regain my power somehow. Understanding that I would never have that moment back, and also appreciating that the night had not gone differently, I knew I needed to contribute to the universal system in a positive way in order to feel as though the energies were back in balance and to reclaim the control I had lost. My way of doing that may seem unconventional to you, but something I’ve learned about myself in this journey, specifically over the past year, is that I’m not uncomfortable with my unconventionality.
My goal throughout this process of teaching on the inside was twofold. The first part was selfish. I wanted to learn more about this terrible, God-forsaken place we call prison; where men are confined by the basics of survival, and respect is a rare gem. I wanted to sit in a room of convicted criminals and understand them better. If this did not scare me, then at least I could say that I’ve faced a real-life representation of the men who violated me, and I had the opportunity to see them as humans and not just monsters. This realization trades anger for forgiveness, and grants power where it was robbed. If I could get through this experience, then I had faced some of the worst of the worst, and proven to myself that I was in charge of how that interaction goes. Through that interaction, I would give myself control back.
The second part of what I wanted to accomplish throughout this experience had to do with providing value to the guys, and I knew it would be harder to judge success on this. I wanted to provide a positive influence in arguably one of the most negative places in the world; a small piece of reprieve in a place where there is rarely any. This sounds naïve, right? You’re thinking right now that I’m one of those idealists who considers recycling a water bottle saving the planet, and who believes in the goodness in all, but I can assure you that is not the case entirely.
Some of these men have done terrible things, and they are being punished appropriately. I won’t deny that. I also won’t tell you that I think all of them are worth their victims’ forgiveness or even another shot at society. But I will tell you that respect should be a mutual arrangement and that none of the men in that room with me violated that pact between us. I will also tell you that each one of them expressed gratitude for the opportunity to learn together over the course of the 10 weeks of class. At the conclusion of the last class, we discussed how the semester went, what they learned (or didn’t), and ways that the class could be improved. Each one thanked me for treating them like the human beings that they are, and never breaking the respect that we established in the room from day one. Some even acknowledged that I had helped them find the voice they had lost behind bars.
This confirmation was all I needed to know that I had accomplished what I set out to do.
My risk had not been without a reward.
I’m not expecting the last 10 weeks to change anyone’s life in a dramatic way. Many of these guys will find Jesus or themselves in one of many ways offered to them through therapy or self-improvement classes accessible in the prison. I’m not a therapist or pastor, and I’m not even a creative writing teacher. I am a person with some talent, but mostly passion, who understands that sharing it may be the only thing I have to give. I’m a writer and a realist, looking for forgiveness, understanding, and a way to help others find their voice in a world full of mindless chatter. If one person benefits from that, then I’m grateful for the risk I took in spending my Mondays in prison.
