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Paul, 42

Paul, 42

Stories

Meet Paul…

The power of gentleness, especially amid the tough exteriors of prisoners, is not to be underestimated.

Paul, 42
Incarcerated: 17
Housed: Sing Sing Correctional Facility, Ossining, New York
Selection from Paul’s book, God’s Hand Reaches Down

David came to the Chaplain’s office because he had just found out his mother had died. He was a taller Latin man, a little over six feet, with the rough exterior of years of street life. I could see the pain in his eyes, and the sorrow in his heart. I barely knew him, but the Holy Spirit told me to embrace him. So I did. I told him, “David, I am so sorry for your loss,” and then I just hugged him. I felt his large frame collapse into the crook of my neck like a child, and he began to weep. All the emotion he was holding in convulsed out into broken sobs, and as I held him strongly while rubbing his back and giving him words of consolation. In that moment, he needed the gentleness of an embrace to open his Spirit. Other than being accosted by a correctional officer during a pat frisk on the wall, many of us have never been held for five, ten, twenty plus years, let alone hugged during a vulnerable time. We prayed and I could visibly see the relief on his face and the resolve to get through this difficult time. The power of gentleness, especially amid the tough exteriors of prisoners, is not to be underestimated. Over the years because of my care for my fellow prisoners and the goodness that lies within them, through the gentle example of Jesus, I have been able to reach people during the most challenging times of familial loss, lockdowns, gang wars, riots, and unrest.

Terence, 47

Terence, 47

Stories

Meet Terence…

My education has given me the clarity and understanding of how to be accountable. It’s like I have the answers to the test. The test of life. I’m a work in progress which started when I enrolled in the Hudson Link- Mercy College. Today I can say that I don’t hate myself anymore. I’ve even started to learn to like myself and maybe one day I’ll learn to love myself too.

Terence, 47
Incarcerated: 12 years
Housed: Sing Sing Correctional Facility

When my younger brother died in his mid 30’s, I had a very difficult time grieving. We were close. When he got into trouble for a fight at school he called me to meet with our high school disciplinarian. No matter what I’ve done in my life he always looked up to me and never changed how he saw me, even though I’ve definitely disappointed plenty of people. His death could have been the straw that broke this camel’s back. I wanted to drop out. I could barely function but Professor Downey told me to keep showing up. In her class, I also started to learn about the effects trauma had on children’s development and decision making. So I listened and kept showing up because I trusted her knowledge based on the work she’s done in research. A light bulb went off in her class: the class brought up a lot of pain from my childhood with the different case studies we’d read on adverse childhood experiences. The discussions and my brother’s death at the time had me on an emotional edge. Showing up was about all I could do. But I was just learning how my traumatic experiences affected my development. It never occurred to me the intense feelings of shame that I can’t really remember ever living without, those reflected in my abnormal development from those events. I just thought they were THINGS that HAPPENED. What I do know is that through education here I’ve been given hope. People who leave prison with a bachelor’s degree have a recidivism rate of 3% and 1% with a masters which I plan on pursuing here. My education has given me the clarity and understanding of how to be accountable. It’s like I have the answers to the test. The test of life. I’m a work in progress which started when I enrolled in the Hudson Link- Mercy College. Today I can say that I don’t hate myself anymore. I’ve even started to learn to like myself and maybe one day I’ll learn to love myself too.

Trell, 31

Trell, 31

Stories

Meet Trell…

I took enough time in between to think that in this world, when it’s all said and done it’s just you, which is all I ever really needed.

Trell, 31
Incarcerated: 8 years
Housed: Hays State Prison, Trion, Georgia

During incarceration maturity finally dawned on me. It wasn’t consensual but it was necessary. My life has handed me a Vegas mountain of poker chips in advantages almost every step of the way, but loss that stemmed from friendships, relationships, and subconscious mental takeover played a tremendous role in putting me here. I can only come away with one sole belief as to why: karma! Throughout my newfound growth, codependency was by far the hardest thing I’ve had to overcome. I never quite took the saying that you can’t always have what you want seriously until I didn’t have it my way more than once. Being at a breaking point, I sent out multiple emails and waited for a penpal. I took enough time in between to think that in this world, when it’s all said and done it’s just you, which is all I ever really needed. Then I got an email from my homie Sid, my bro’skee; when no one else was there, he came through. Don’t ever give in to hopelessness, keep it everlasting, don’t ever lose touch when believing.

John, 47

Stories

Meet John…

Every day on my way to school I’d pass by one particular homeless man who always greeted me with a smile and a kind word.

John, 47
Incarcerated: 15 years
Housed: San Quentin State Prison

Growing up in Southern California, I had seen my fair share of homelessness. Every day on my way to school I’d pass by one particular homeless man who always greeted me with a smile and a kind word. I didn’t understand why he didn’t just go live with family. My nine year old brain couldn’t understand his full plight. One day my childish curiosity got the better of me, on my way past him I asked, “Why are you homeless.” So he told me. Drugs, crime and alcohol led to his position. Yet in his current position he was drug and alcohol free with many years sober. He talked and talked and told me all about his family. He wanted to go home so desperately but he couldn’t face them after all he’d done. So my friendly attitude towards him grew and I took him leftovers and old books. I became friends with Larry and he just talked. One day he said I’d inspired him to give it a try. He was going to go see his grown children and see if there was a place in their lives for him. His parting words to me were, “Thanks for listening kid.” I realized everyone has a story to tell, but is anyone listening?

Jennifer, 39

Jennifer, 39

Stories

Meet Jennifer…

Prison is not designed to change a person, only you have the power to change yourself.

Jennifer, 39
Incarcerated: 12 years
Housed: Taconic Correctional Facility, Bedford Hills, New York

I am not defined by my crime, I am not a number, I am a beautiful, intelligent woman. I have learned that I can prosper in the worst conditions. I am a survivor! I had to learn to love myself in order to become who I am. It is a terrible feeling, sitting alone in a cell with only your thoughts. My thoughts have given me purpose these past 12 years. I graduated college with an associates and a bachelor’s degree. I have made the dean’s list, all behind walls, locked doors and razor wire. In three years I will be released after serving 16 years. I will be free, but I will never forget. Where there is hope, there is purpose. When I started my sentence I felt alone. I didn’t know how I was going to be in prison for 16 years, without my son. He was nine when I left and will be 21 when I am released. He is my motivation. I want him to be proud of me. I want him to know that I achieved goals and made new ones, all in prison. Prison is not designed to change a person, only you have the power to change yourself. You have to want to succeed, I am determined and I will keep changing – I learn something new everyday because my knowledge is my liberation!

James, 64

James, 64

Stories

Meet James…

She said, “Write, write everyday.” I took her advice and it’s taken me on quite a journey. A year’s worth of my daily journal writing was posted by Cornell University on their website, I have a stack of poetry I’ve written and a couple have even been published.

James, 64
Incarcerated: 15 years
Housed: Corcoran State Prison, California

I don’t even know the person’s name who had a huge impact on my life. I found myself in a prison cell with little more than some writing materials and a book with contact information for colleges and universities from all across the country. I can’t say with any accuracy how many letters I sent out requesting an old text book that may be outdated or getting ready to be discarded. Out of the stacks of letters I sent out, I received one response. It came from someone in the English Department at the University of San Francisco. This person sent me three brand new textbooks on creative writing and poetry. I had written in my requests, that I wanted to turn my prison cell into a classroom. She responded along with the textbooks, with a note saying that she hoped these books would help, and offered her advice… she said, “Write, write everyday.” I took her advice and it’s taken me on quite a journey. A year’s worth of my daily journal writing was posted by Cornell University on their website, I have a stack of poetry I’ve written, a couple have even been published, I’ve been asked to write pieces for a couple prisoner advocacy publications, as well as earning an AA degree in Fine Arts, graduating with highest honors. All this and more developed from the kind heart of someone I don’t even know, almost 15 years ago. Her KWD started me on my journey of recovery and rehabilitation. She changed my life, and I’m continuously thankful to her.

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