by Martin Lockett | Jul 1, 2016 | Book Review, Inmate Contributors
I’ll admit, when I first heard the title of this best-selling book, I, as a black man, was taken aback. I scoffed at the notion that anyone could attempt to make a sound case for comparing the atrocious Jim Crow segregation laws of the 50s and 60s with today’s â albeit egregious â system of mass incarceration . . . and then she did it!
Michelle Alexander, a civil rights attorney and law professor at Ohio State University, starts from the beginning by illustrating the political and economic motivations by those in power to exploit and subjugate blacks and poor people from seventeenth century North American slavery to twenty-first century mass incarceration. She makes this provocative case by providing compelling evidence through a social and historical narrative that is driven by greed, political power, and economic advantage. If I were a skeptic, her book would at the very least cause me to pause and reconsider my position. Alexander argues her stance as though she were a seasoned lawyer (which she is) presenting her case to a biased jury that she knew would not see it her way unless she presented a masterful argument to win them over â and she does.
Professor Alexander refuses to allow her political persuasion (which I still don’t know) to interfere with her assessment of our broken criminal justice system and its treatment of minorities and poor white people. She equally criticizes Republicans and Democrats for their promotion through propaganda and funding of bad policy that are responsible for creating the highest per capita rate of incarceration among its citizens of any country in the world. She highlights the shrewd political expedience used by Ronald Reagan and Bill Clinton to propagate the “necessity” to fund the War on Drugs and later devise, state by state, sweeping mandatory minimum sentencing laws, respectively â which are both underlying policies resulting in over 2.2 million people currently incarcerated. She is unapologetically critical of the policies of other presidential administrations, including our current one (which was, frankly, somewhat surprising as she is a black woman), pointing out how they have been led by special interest groups and the big business of building more prisons with the hope of garnering more votes during election cycles.
I found The New Jim Crow to be both incredibly insightful yet profoundly disheartening. It bears the naked ugly truth of America’s ongoing struggle to accept and treat groups of people as equal participants in our diverse society. This book forces its readers to view an insidious, corrupt system â which is driven by politics and money â that confines, disenfranchises, and discriminates against millions of its citizens through a more cynical lens; one that we thought we had moved on from since 1865. For anyone who is affected by or interested in understanding the many tenets that have shaped our system of mass incarceration, I strongly encourage you to read this book â then give it to ten friends to read!
by Rick Fisk | Jun 30, 2016 | Book Review, Inmate Contributors
David McCullough’s The Great Bridge is an extraordinary book. It tells the tale of how the Brooklyn Bridge was conceived and built. As is the case with other McCullough works, it is superbly crafted and reads as well as any great work of fiction. The main focus of the book is the bridge, but it is about the fascinating human beings who made the bridge possible. Designed originally by John A. Roebling, it was his son Washington who completed it, along with his incredible wife Emily â as unlikely a story in the Victorian era as one might encounter.
One of the reasons I found the book so fascinating was the great love and respect Washington and Emily showed each other, culminating in Emily’s selfless dedication to Washington after he suffered physical catastrophe during the bridge’s construction.
Besides the Roeblings, the cast of characters involved with the bridge contains a who’s who of New York’s political and industrial giants, including A.C. Barnes (whom you might associate with today’s Barns & Noble), Seth Low (two-term mayor of Brooklyn, and one-term mayor of New York), and William Marcy Tweed (the infamous “Boss” Tweed of Tammany Hall). Tangentially even Henry Ward Beecher had a part to play.
For a while, Brooklyn’s Great Bridge was the world’s largest suspension bridge and even though eclipsed by later works including the Golden Gate, it is still the only bridge with a pedestrian promenade. Walking it has been on my own personal bucket list since first reading this book.
While construction of a bridge that might seem to some as exciting as watching paint dry, this book is anything but droll. I was fascinated throughout, but especially so upon learning that what I always thought was an affliction limited to divers, “the bends,” was discovered by bridge builders who were sinking the footings of their creations using specially-designed platforms â caissons â hence the original name of the malady, caisson disease.
McCullough’s book was first published in 1972, and a further testament to its greatness is the fact that it is still in print. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, I have a 1982 paperback edition that was signed by the author. Neat.
I highly recommend any edition you can lay your hands on. Four stars.
by Martin Lockett | Jun 30, 2016 | Inmate Contributors
It’s true: the American criminal justice system is not broken â it’s doing exactly what it is designed to do.
Far gone are the days when the only things that distinguished prisons from college campuses were the barbed-wired fences, gun towers, and . . . oh yeah, the fact that people couldn’t go home when class was over. But the most prominent features that make colleges what they are (classrooms full of eager, studious learners and willing instructors looking to advance the specialized knowledge of these students) were no different in prison settings across this vast country. But that was also when college tuition was available to inmates via the federal Pell Grant program â before President Clinton abolished this all-important rehabilitative mechanism with a single stroke of his presidential pen. Out went the funding for college degrees for inmates, and in came the rapid increase of mandatory minimum sentencing laws that would balloon the prison population to the staggering 2.2 million individuals that we see locked up (state, federal, and county jails) today.
Such laws came about with the introduction of the now infamous Crime Bill signed into law, incentivizing states to build new prisons by allocating billions of dollars for such projects. Logically, it then makes sense to devise laws that would sweep large numbers of bodies off the street and into jails and prisons for extended stays. Mandatory minimums made perfect sense during this era as an extremely sinister means to this egregiously inhumane ends. Moreover, the majority of those who make up the system are â wait for it â black and brown. Without attempting to litigate the veracity of the claim that there is inherent and even calculated bias and racism behind this outcome, it is fair to assert that the radical disproportionality of who is affected by this system is, at the very least, a problem that warrants being addressed.
Every year there are approximately 650,000 people released from incarceration. Within three years, two-thirds return to confinement for a host of reasons â they are unable to find gainful employment, housing, loans for higher education, etc. At every turn they are denied opportunity to fully reintegrate into their communities, whether it be through voting, participating in many volunteer programs, and/or furthering their careers. These folks succumb to the insidious notion that life is far too arduous for their withstanding, and it would be much easier to revert back to what they have always known. And like a conveyor belt that never stops moving â transporting its products from the beginning of the process to the end continuously â these people are swept back up, placed on the conveyor belt, and whisked away to the next arm of the system to be processed.
We often refer to our criminal justice system as “broken” because we are viewing it strictly from a humanitarian standpoint. We find it reprehensible that our country incarcerates its citizens at a much higher rate and for lengthier stays, on average, than any other nation on earth. We are repulsed at the fact that we funnel far more money into constructing and maintaining prisons in America than we do our schools and extra curricular activities — things that could actually deter kids from turning to crime when they are most impressionable. But the reality is, our nation is not concerned with preventing crime and offering its help to those who are most at-risk for committing such crime, but rather its focal point is rounding up as many people as it possibly can to keep an industry (yes, people actually can buy stock in private prison corporations) â a big business â thriving and ever-expanding. We endorse warehousing humans, not rehabilitating them. The latter would surely be counter-productive to this cause. The object is not to keep people out of the system by funding initiatives that have been proven to prevent crime and reduce recidivism; but rather to ensure that a large number of people stay ensnared in the criminal justice system, that they continue to take their place on the proverbial conveyor belt â over and over again. Therefore, when viewed more accurately for what it is, the system is not broken â it’s more like a well-oiled machine; fluidly carrying out its mechanical mission by doing exactly what it’s designed to do.escents who struggle with substance abuse.
by Melissa Bee | Jun 27, 2016 | From the Inside
This piece is from our friend J.E. Forbes in Pennsylvania.
by Melissa Bee | Jun 26, 2016 | From the Staff
We are working night and day on a few projects – one of which is catching up with a significant backlog of mail. We owe several hundred replies which must go out through regular USPS mail, and that means …. we need stamps. Lots of stamps.
This is an easy and painless way to give in support of the most fundamental part of our daily work. Everything we do revolves around the mail: collecting it daily from the post office, and carefully reading, logging, replying to, and filing each piece – as many as 300 each week. Each letter carries a message filled with both despair and hope.Â
Please help us respond to these heartfelt letters. Our goal is 500+ stamps.Â
Check out some of these groovy stamps available now at your local post office, or online through usps.com.
Log on to usps.com and have some stamps sent directly to us (fill in our address below on the online order form), or buy from your local post office and drop them in the mail to us. Your generosity delivers hope, healing, and human connection.
** One book of twenty stamps means forty people will hear their name called out at mail call. **
Adopt an Inmate
Stamp Campaign
PO Box 1543
Veneta, OR 97487
Please share this post to help us reach our goal.
by Boundless in the Midwest | Jun 20, 2016 | Inmate Contributors
Our hearts are saddened. I know this event just happened and you’re trying to make sense of it. You can’t. Crazy people have been doing senseless stuff like this since time began. Whether it was the Romans massacring Jewish people or terrorists flying planes in buildings, they want attention and to force their opinions or religious beliefs on the rest of us.
My heart goes out to you and I cannot fathom the living hell and agony you are experiencing.
It is a sad fact that bad things happen to good people, and no matter what laws are in place you cannot prevent every crazy person from getting their hands on weapons. Yes as I watch the news, I know the attacker’s name. I will never say it because he sought attention for himself and his cause. Do not make him immortal in the annals of history. It is only a minor victory when you refuse to say the name of a attacker like this. Sometimes little victories are the only ones we can create.
Tragedies like this are twofold as we will be soon at each others throats over who’s fault it is and how can we prevent this from happening again. This is a sad fact. We want somebody to hurt as bad as we hurt. We want somebody to pay for making us fearful and for showing just how fragile life is. When we have no one to punish, we turn on each other. We verbally attack somebody who thinks differently then we do. We miss the irony that it was a difference in opinions on how people should live that caused a crazy person to attack to begin with.
We as a society try to create something positive out of something negative. Sometimes it’s just not possible. I hope I am wrong in this case.
It is my hope the two major political parties will take the high ground and not try to make the victims suffer more by using them and their families as political props.
We live in a world where terrible things happen. The best we can do is to be a light in somebody’s darkness.
Blessed be.
by Leah Patterson | May 29, 2016 | From the Inside, From the Staff, Poetry From Prison
Hello Angels,
I received this beautiful poem from Michael and want to dedicate it to all of you. My title would be, “Ode to Angels.” Love & Light! Â
~Leah
Ode to a Friendship
I shed a tear
When I thought no one could see,
I couldnât imagine
Your words were for me.
I shed a tear
Deep in the night,
So no one could hear
As I put up the fight
To not slip away
Far from the light.
This part of my sojourn;
If lived by the sword,
Could sever the lines
To the life that I long.
But you share your words,
That keeps me moored.
Thereâs no question of might,
The pen or the sword.
So Iâll live each day
As if I were done,
In the secret of life;
That weâre all one.
And yes,
Iâll shed more tears.
But I wonât be as coy,
Because of your words
Theyâll be tears of joy.
Michael Henderson, Florida
by Boundless in the Midwest | May 25, 2016 | Inmate Contributors, News
From www.rehabcenterforwomen.org:
According to a report by the Treatment Advocacy Center, in 2012 the United States had 10 times more mentally ill individuals in its prisons than the amount who are treated in psychiatric hospitals (356,268 in prison, vs. 35,000 being treated in a hospital).
The unique and stressful environment created in prisons can many times actually enhance symptoms of a mental disorder and make its side effects harder to manage. Having these individuals in prison instead of a mental facility has many negative repercussions.
Below is a letter from a prisoner in Ross Correctional Institution in Ohio.
The state of Ohio has effectively gutted its Mental Health obligations in prisons and untrained and unprepared staff are left to pick up the pieces.
In November of 2014, six of the eight mental health professionals turn in their notice at Ross Correctional Institution. Three months later, the head of the Mental Health Department and five others leave. The prison does not have a plan in place to replace the much needed Mental health workers despite having 90Â days notice. Many inmates are automatically kicked off of the Mental Health caseloads, not because they are stable, but because there is no one to see them.
I was one of those inmates and it took a year to get back on the Mental Health caseload. After two short visits I find myself kicked off of the caseload again because I do not have a recent suicide attempt or hunger strike. I suffer from manic depression, fugue states, and auditory hallucinations. While I do admit I need help, I do not wish to hurt myself or others at the moment. There are others here that are not so lucky.
I recently had the extreme displeasure of sharing a cell with a 58 year-old man in the grips of severe dementia.
Mike is three years into a seven year sentence. By his own admission during the times he is a able to communicate, he was a career alcoholic, smoked crack, and drew Social Security because he had severe memory issues. Mike must have staff and inmates constantly tell him when to go to a meal, when to stand, when to sit. Mike has no concept of time. He will often try to go on a pass the second he gets it. We get our passes a day before we are suppose to go. Mike will try to go to a 1:15 pm pass at 7 am. He will ask you the same question six times in ten minutes. His personal hygiene habits require him to shower two to four times a day, and he often puts the same soiled clothing back on.
When I celled with Mike, it was not uncommon for me to have to scrub the walls and floor around the toilet while he was in the shower. Mike will wolf down his food as quickly as possible and then stare at you while you try to finish yours. He has been known to lie about missing chow and then go begging for food. Sometimes people will toss him a soup only to see him wolf that down and go begging at the next table. Mike would ask me every two minutes after I turned the light off at night, “are you awake?” He will do this every two minutes for hours sometimes. He often gets angry and rude if you try to correct him. He goes to chronic care medical visits every two weeks where he is asked if he is willing to go to a camp for older inmates with issues. Mike does not believe he has any problem and that all of the inmates and guards are working together to make him look bad. Ross is not equipped to handle my issues, let alone somebody like Mike, who recently asked me when his son was going to pick him up, because he didn’t care for this hospital. Mike has a whole block trying to keep track of him. The state knows he needs to be in a different type of facility but because of the added expense, refuse to do the right thing.
I had to move out of the cell Mike was in. He is not suitable for anyone to cell with unless they want to care for a man who acts like a spoiled two year-old with potty training issues. To be honest, Mike is the kind of inmate who could die in the middle of the night due to natural causes. Nobody wants to wake up to that or spend a week in the hole while waiting for a cause of death to clear themselves. I wish Mike the best, but elsewhere.
by Rick Fisk | May 6, 2016 | Book Review, Inmate Contributors
Station Eleven is one of those books that is so well-conceived and executed that you are sad when there’s no more to read. After reading so many post-apocalyptic novels, many which barely bother to explain what caused society’s collapse, I expected another contrived and unimaginative version of The Hunger Games or Divergent. While I did enjoy both afore-mentioned series’ this standalone far surpasses either in both imagination and quality of prose.
The story crosses both sides of a global catastrophe from several characters’ point of view, all of whom, in one way or another, are satellites of a famous actor who, in the opening pages is performing King Lear at the Elgin Theatre in Toronto.
Emily St. John Mandel draws us into a horrifying and totally plausible world-wide catastrophe and then through ingenious flashbacks and historical reference sews together a tale that is as rich as any great myth.
Even if this type of story isn’t one’s ‘cup of tea,’ I would bet that even the most reluctant would find it riveting.
Station Eleven refers to a self-published comic, written and illustrated by one of the main characters, a frustrated artist who settles for corporate doldrum, yet still manages to complete a few issues of her creation. One of the more interesting facets of this plot device is the way in which the comic influences the characters. Mandel also hints of how all art is a reflection of the creator’s own life and times. That theme is further hammered home when members of the book’s post-apocalyptic theatre troupe, The Symphony, discuss Shakespeare’s own relationship with the plague.
Mandel leaves nothing undone in this novel that needed to be sewn up. Everything has its place, making me  hungry for anything else she may have written.
Four stars.Â
by Martin Lockett | May 2, 2016 | Inmate Contributors
After a while, even the horrid conditions of prison become normal to its occupants. Waking up everyday in a concrete cell, being told when you can shower, use the phone, or even use the bathroom eventually fall into place as routine. No big deal â it just is. I suppose as humans, this is an essential feature and component of our survivability. We must and do adapt to even life’s most trying and tumultuous circumstances. Of course this is usually always preceded by the five phases of grief/loss (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance) that we undergo; but we do inevitably reach that final phase of acceptance at some point. After which, things settle and become normal again. Yet, the most dreaded, sinking feeling that I experienced for the third time in my incarceration last Thursday is something that I will never adapt to. It counters the most fundamental needs of humanity and leaves a scar that, unlike those made of flesh, don’t fade with time.
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