School to Prison...

WOMANIST

So I'm back to working with inmates and I thoroughly enjoy it and no longer dread going to work Monday-Friday. I'm providing substance abuse counseling to inmates there and on last Wednesday I worked late. I decided to stay late to attend a meeting the clients go to, not AA, but it's basically an intro to AA/NA. On the day I attended it was a "graduation" day, they received certificates of completion from the facilitator. Across the hall were other inmates in their unit and I couldn't help but to think as I watched them maneuver throughout the environment; this resembles a college dorm. Upwards of 30 men in a unit, bunk beds, lounge area with chess tables, TV, DVD player, showers, and toilets. Most walked with a purpose and maneuvered throughout their environment with familiarity, du-rags tied, laughter with their peers, and phone calls being made. The camaraderie is always a beautiful thing to see in a treatment setting, but I couldn't help but to feel saddened when I noticed the ease of adjustment to their environment.

As a Black woman, I began to think about the number of Black men incarcerated, who will circle in and out of prison their entire lives, with no marketable work skills except "I get paper". The same men who are thugs out in the street, chasing paper, but when they become locked up label their mother as their major support system. No letters or calls from their boys "on the outside", no money on their books, and no visits, because of course what thug willingly goes to jail. Being a young woman in this environment, their eyes poke and prod at me as if I'm a chic on the street. No manners, just staring through the window of their locked-in confines yelling "GOOD MOOOORRRRNNIINNNN! HOW YOU DOING?!" through the approximately 4x6" window. Learning nothing of being different than the person you came in here to be, exuding the same behavior they did out on the street. There's one young man who consistently stares at me when I go to see my clients, gleaming the usual "what's up ma" face, with the combo biting of the lip. One day he began speaking to coworkers and finally worked up the nerve to say hello to me by then he had been annoyingly staring at me for weeks, my response "hello, my name is Tiffany. You stare at me a lot, you know who I am". Nipped that in the bud.

I say all of this to say, I REALLY enjoy my job. There's nothing more gratifying (to me) than being in a jail. I enjoy working with marginalized populations, advocating for people, and telling it like it is. Feelings aren't as easy to hurt, they're skin is a little thicker, yet they possess a child-like innocence of wanting someone to care about them, because most of the time they never had that growing up. If you're a parent, raise your children, especially boys, but if you don't, I'll be glad to work with them in the future, they keep me employed.