Remembering my time in prison

As I get more emails and comments on my blogs or from sites I share posts on, I try to keep things in some sort of perspective, but also understand what I am trying to do. I have to keep telling folks that I am not trying to glorify prison, not by any stretch, but we have to share something so that others will know what goes on in prison.

But today as I was looking through past material, I came up on two folders, one that is filled with a large stack of papers from my time at Tyrrell Prison Work Farm, in Columbia, North Carolina. It’s from this and other folders that I write a lot of my online and offline projects.

If you want to know what inmates go through, sometimes it isn’t what they say, it’s what is documented…

Let me say that again, it’s not what they SAY, it’s what they DOCUMENTED.

Why is that important? Because by that you learn the details of what prison was like for that individual. One of the first things I noticed in my folder is a letter addressed to the ACLU. Enclosed is a letter I wrote, the response by the ACLU and more info about the organization.

I also find NUMEROUS letters from the NC Inmate Grievance Resolution Board, which I personally think is a complete joke. In the many times I have argued against a grievance, these so called people have ALWAYS taken the side of the prison, even twisting my words against me.

If you wonder what gets inmates upset, this is part of it. And this is interesting, because most guys don’t save this stuff. It is trashed either shortly after rejection, or just before a guy leaves prison. I saved everything that was mine, not knowing how I can now use them in my writings.

I have a letter from US Senator John Edwards, and the comments he shared with me about rehabilitation (quite supportive).

I have a letter from US Representative Richard Burr, one from the Commission of Civil Rights, the Civil Rights Division, NC Prisoner Legal Services (a joke to most inmates), officers of the Department of Correction, and many pages of my journal. And just glancing at them helps me remember how it was like when I was in prison.

To me, and I am only speaking from my experience, the frustration of prison didn’t come from other inmates, it came from the additional punishment of the administration of the prisons. To a novice you might think that I was just some “trouble maker” who just didn’t get his way. And apparently I DID seem that way to several prisons.

Those of you who have read my blogs kinda have an idea of what I am about, but to newer folks, it might seem a bit conceited. But when you are in prison, perhaps the only thing you have left is self respect. If you lose that, you are just a shell of a person.

In prison, if you do everything they tell you, you’ll become a drone. Now I am not saying to argue the rules, I am saying that if you have to obey them, then the prison has an obligation to obey them as well. You don’t make rules to lord over inmates, while ignoring the ones the officers must obey.

You see, when I look at that folder, it has enough stuff in there alone for me to write 200 pages. I start to remember what I went through while at Tyrrell, and I start to remember why I wrote so much. I remember that although there were some jerks as inmates, there were also some as officers…

And many as administrators.

There is a heck of a lot that can be shared, and as I continue to blog I certainly will do that, but it may well open up an understanding of how inmates are treated mentally by prisons. Remember, the punishment was supposed to be the sentence, not the abuse that goes on DURING the sentence.

Now, another folder I found was one that inspired me to do the free prison encouragement certificates. As a lot of you know, I took a computer class at Dan River Prison Work Farm, and made a ton of certificates. I sold many of them (against the rules, yep, so what) but I brought a lot home. I remember that I also wrote a lot of poems and printed them on nice designer paper. Guys seemed to love that, and I sold a bunch of them before I was released.

But in doing these, I remember the mindset during that time too. Remember, I got out in 2001, but the fact that I kept documentations of my experience means I can recall nearly everything in moments…so I remember why I made these certificates.

“To make a hustle”

Well, yeah, but it wasn’t like I could buy a trip to Hawaii with it. I made those certificates and wrote poems because it allowed me to do something for guys that needed something different. While most guys in prison CAN write, many don’t write creatively. I did a lot of creative writing while in college, and even long before, it was something I loved to do.

I am actually afraid of giving those certificates away, because the software I used then is very different from what I have now, and the styles are different. I actually did share a couple with some of my readers, and they want more of those.

But read between the lines of what those certificates were about. It was me trying to do something special for someone else. I am not painting myself some kinda hero, I just felt at that time that there were inmates there that would like something special. Lots of you have received letters and cards and special drawings; most times that comes from other guys.

I mean, I can’t draw a lick, but I can write my butt off. And looking at these folders stuffed with memories reminds me of my role in prison. Sure, I was an inmate just like everyone else, but what made me feel like I was still worth something was the value the inmates put in me.

And it doesn’t matter what the prison thinks, it doesn’t matter what society thinks, and sometimes it doesn’t matter what your loved ones outside think. In prison, you have to retain your value as a human being. It’s pretty much all you have left.

Those two folders hold about 400 or more pages of stuff, from letters, grievances, journals, poems and certificates. Those remind me of how I refused to let the prison neglect inmate rights, even though I was retaliated against more than once. Those folders also remind me of how even inmates have a heart, and want to let their loved ones outside of prison know that they miss them.

They’re not all monsters, you know.

I remember, because I used to live with them.