Deborah Tobola
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Red Door
by Deborah Tobola
Some cultural problems seem so intractable, their solutions so ephemeral, that we'd rather not think about them. For example, how do you stop the revolving door of incarceration? If the recidivism rate is 70%, that means seven out of 10 people who are incarcerated will get locked up again.
When I worked in prison managing an arts program, the sense of inevitability was almost tangible. Inmates knew the statistics better than staff. Most expected to come back. Why did so many come back?
Don't people learn their lessons after the first time? Does appetite for crime somehow grow during incarceration? Do people become angrier and more anti-social the longer they're locked up? Are some people just "bad seeds" with no chance for redemption?
Probably all of those theories apply to some people. But almost universal was the idea that incarceration had set them apart — forever. That there was no real way back. That there was nothing for them on the other side. During my prison tenure, I wrote this poem:
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Red Door
Red, I said to the prison painters, who were probably expecting
another beige assignment. Red? they said. Red I said.
We have safety red they said. Perfect! So they came back
with the paint, rolled the first coat on. Tomorrow, the red
will be deeper: heart red, circus red, pay attention red,
do something red, red like certain roses, trombone music
in a big parade. An exclamation point against cool institutional
blue, the door invites you to walk through. The door says
there's something for you on the other side. The door says
the emergency is beauty in harsh places.
The painters smiled as they left.
There's something on the other side.
There's something on the other side. |
If seven in 10 people are going to commit new crimes and get locked up again, why bother looking for solutions?
There are a few reasons. First, each of those people is someone's father, mother, brother, sister, uncle, aunt, cousin, nephew, niece, grandfather, or grandmother.
Second, it's expensive. As Ted Koppel noted in 2007, the cost of incarcerating a person in prison for one year in California is roughly equal to the cost of tuition, meals, and housing at Harvard University. Now there are fewer inmates in state prison— since AB 109 shifted inmates from state prisons to county jails. Now counties are bearing the Harvard costs.
Third, it seems that correctional institutions are best at creating a need for more correctional institutions. If seven out of 10 inmates will return to custody, we'll need more and more juvenile facilities, jails and prisons to accommodate them. It's a dream business model for Wall Street investors (and has been for private prison profiteers).
So maybe we can't afford to financially, morally, or culturally keep doing business as usual. But how can we change things? I did a quick poll of experts I know — three men who have collectively served more than 50 years in jails and state and federal prisons. What does it take to stay out? To make the transition from convict to ex-con to contributing member of community?
I asked Willie, who spent 38 years in prison and now, less than five years later, is exhibiting his extraordinary art at the SLO Museum of Art and the SLO County Library in Los Osos. What does it take, Willie? "Making a decision," he says. "You use the same energy you used to use courting beautiful girls and courting drugs . . . you use that energy to court freedom. When you decide to change your life, it benefits all of humanity. If nothing can stop you from doing dumb stuff, nothing can stop you from doing good. Life itself will give you a hand."
I asked Leonard. He served more than 10 years in prison, and just earned his A.A. in Human Services – Addiction Studies. Last month he was keynote speaker at Allan Hancock College's College Achievement Now (CAN) Annual Recognition Ceremony. What does it take to make the leap? "Humility," he says, "a lot of humility . . . Admitting that you need help and have something to learn. That allows us to do something different than we've done before."
It's up to the individual, it seems, one person at a time, to stop the revolving door. It starts with a decision, Willie says, and then marshalling your energy in the direction of the good. You need to humble yourself, Leonard adds, admit that you have something to learn and you need help from others. That lets us off the hook — people leaving jail and prison just need to do what these guys are saying and they'll become the three in 10 who don't go back to jail or prison.
Not so fast says Maux, who served close to five years in state and federal prisons. Maux just won two film awards at Hancock College's Film Festival, and an arts scholarship. Maux says, the key to staying out is, "Community. Connection. Feeling a part of . . ."
So that's where we come in. If we want to see more contributors to our communities, instead of more incarcerated criminals, we need to let the incarcerated children, women, and men know that there's a place for them out here. There's something for them on the other side: us.
Ruby-throated Hummingbird Image on Banner by Teri Sohl |
