Five Things
When I first approached the Everglades Correctional Institution in Miami, Florida, nervous couldn’t even begin to describe how I felt. Not knowing what to expect, every episode of “Law and Order” played in a compilation through my head. I mentally rehearsed how to introduce myself while reminding myself every five minutes, “incarcerated person, not inmate,” not knowing what to do with my hands.
As I left Everglades Correctional Institution, I couldn’t help but look back in the mirror, wishing for more time behind those walls. I wondered how six hours could have passed so quickly, and still not have felt like enough time. Processing my emotions and wanting to share the time, wisdom, and stories I had shared with Murph, (the man I was paired with inside during the visit) with everyone.
I didn’t know it then, but that simple prison tour changed me in ways that I hadn’t expected, and I hope my experience compels others to do the same. These are five things I learned from my Prison Visit for Change :
Be alert.
I don’t mean to put this first to scare anyone, but the reality is, you’re entering a prison. When we first approached the visitors' sign-in desk, we were met with officers who have protocols, procedures, and processes that they must follow for the safety of everyone around them and themselves. Each member of our group had to provide photo identification, walk through a metal detector, place our shoes and sweaters through an x-ray scan, and receive a pat-down search.
At one point in our sign-in process, a van pulled up to enter the compound. The vehicle was searched, while members of our group were sternly told to, “Stay back!” as a large firearm was removed from the vehicle and unloaded into a metal container. While the moment felt surreal, I understood the severity of the situation. The officers had a job to do, and as a visitor in this space, I was quickly made aware that my usual state of daydreaming, zoning out, and overall carefree demeanor was not going to be tolerated within the walls of the facility.
Something Murph and I shared with each other was the stress that could put on someone. I was within the walls of the facility for just a few hours, and I was constantly worried that I might do something wrong. Murph explained to me it was an anxiety a lot of incarcerated people feel. I never realized the luxury and privilege I had in my life, of being able to relax and make mistakes because I wasn’t paying attention. Yeah, I’m that guy who rear-ended you because he was on his phone. But these men don’t get to share in that privilege of “not paying attention.” A mistake on their part could mean an infraction on their record. Or worse.
I thought about that long after Murph and I had parted. I pay attention a little more now. I keep my phone away while I’m driving (most times) and I remember the importance of paying attention, not for fear of an infraction, but for fear of missing out on someone’s story.
2. Follow the rules
This, you might think, would go hand in hand with paying attention, and you’d be right! Sadly, we witnessed time and time again the consequences of those who did not heed the rules beforehand. The first infraction our group faced was the dress code. When they say, “No camouflage,” they mean it. Two members of our party had to return to their cars, in the blistering Florida heat, hoping to find alternative options to what they were wearing or be barred from joining us inside the compound. One threw on a (particularly ugly) sweater that she dug out of the back of her car; the other borrowed a shirt from Exchange-For-Change founder Kathie, which was two sizes too small. While a fashion sacrifice, the two were able to join us and made the better for it. No one seemed to care what anybody else was wearing once we all started seeing each other past our exteriors.
Our second infraction came when someone forgot to check his pockets. Out into the Florida heat he ran to return his cell phone to his vehicle. It’s funny to see but even more mind blowing to realize all these things we don’t think about in our daily lives. Imagining our cell phones being an extension of ourselves, not thinking about them while on us, but frantically searching for a missing limb without them. I will be honest with you, the first hour cell phone-free was the worst. Not having a screen to escape into while I was at my most unsure was uncomfortable, but I acclimated, shared, and bonded quickly. If I can do it, you can too.
3. Be patient.
You might be thinking to yourself, “duh” but seriously we’re talking Walt Disney World wait times. Entering the facility happens two people at a time. Each member of our party went through the full search procedure and waited in a small room on the other side of the locked door. This process can be made longer by those ‘not paying attention’ or ‘not following the rules.’
After we left that enclosed room we were clicked through another door and we entered the visitor’s area. The most shocking thing about it was how normal everything looked there: the same fluorescent lighting in any normal office building, the same normal linoleum flooring in any high school hallway, and the same normal folding chairs and tables in any church’s recreation hall. Neat, clean and normal.
We began to set up the tables and chairs, in anticipation of the incarcerated gentlemen joining us. As we dragged the chairs and tables across the room, the incarcerated gentleman who we learned was the visitor park orderly said, “Hey folks, if y’all could kindly lift the chairs? This is our visitor’s space, and we would like to keep it clean and maintained for future visitors.”
We were happy to oblige, monitoring our movements. It may have slowed the process but we were glad to be able to show the same respect to the space and equipment the incarcerated men showed.
Then we waited. Kathie explained to us that before the gentlemen could join us, they had to go through a head count process. This is done by officers, multiple times throughout the day. If someone is unaccounted for the entire process begins again from the beginning. She told us stories of times she had been in lockdown during prison visits in the past. How the experience had opened her eyes to how much privilege you gave up once you ventured beyond the fence. We sat in anticipation for a while until the men trickled in and the meeting began. My advice to you is to be prepared to hurry up to wait.
4. Evaluate your expectations/ misconceptions/ preconceived notions
I think we were all surprised by the cleanliness of everything. As I said before, it all seemed so normal that we all eased a bit. That might have been my first misconception. I had imagined and reimagined what the inside of a prison might look like. Expecting anything from a derelict medieval dungeon to an inescapable technological fortress. In all my imagining, I wasn’t ready for standard homeroom class.
Once our meeting had begun, I think we were all surprised by Russ. He was the first incarcerated person to enter the room. The smile on his face radiated. He walked around the room and greeted everyone warmly. We all murmured soft responses in reply. “Awe, y’all nervous to talk? That’s ok, won’t be able to get us to shut up by the end,” Russ told us before letting out a laugh that filled the room. His warmth and kindness weren’t something I was expecting to find in a prison. I thought I would be spending the time in memoriam, learning from others' life lessons and mistakes. This one was true, kind of. We did spend the day listening and learning from these men, but there was so much laughter and brightness in the room that it felt effortless.
Kathie had asked us to sit with chairs in-between for the men to fill in. As they filed into the room, filling the open spots, thoughts, and questions raced through my head. I wondered who I might get partnered with. I realized that this didn’t matter and that my own expectations were getting in the way of me getting the most out of this experience. Whoever sat down next to me had a lesson for me to learn. I had thought of this as just a prison tour, but it was as much a rehabilitation program for the incarcerated men as it was for our group.
5. Be open to the process.
Finally, I encourage you to be open to the process and all it has to offer. When I began my conversation with Murph, we followed the prompts on the paper that was handed to all of us when we arrived at the Visitors Park. . We spoke a little bit about the towns we grew up in and where we came from. The same small talk conversation anyone shares when the coffee line is long. The conversation switched to interest, which divulged into hobbies, which ended with two tuba players laughing about how wimpy trumpet players are. (Yeah, I’m calling you out! Toot toot)
I was grateful for the time we spent together, and for the stories we shared. Murph and I spoke a lot about his life behind the fence and common ground. He told me that he accepts his mistakes and punishment. There wasn’t a plea for innocence or any tone of judgment in his voice. Just acceptance and understanding for the mistakes he’s made and the atonement he’s had to face. It was hard, only knowing the kind, funny, and light-hearted man sitting before me and imagining him as anything else.
All the men sitting around me felt like they could just be regulars at my bar, or some guy you might stand next to at the urinal, nothing more nothing less. And that’s when it hit me, we were all just people, experiencing people. No judgments. It finally dawned on me that we were all the same when rain threatened to cut our tour short. We were given the option to stay and chat more with the gentlemen or continue to see the dorms where the men live. You could see the hesitation on the groups’ faces; we didn’t want to move on for a multitude of reasons. We were having fun, swapping stories connecting with each other; we thought the men would appreciate extra time with new acquaintances; we didn’t want the learning process to end, but the guys encouraged us with pleas like, “You might never get a chance to see inside a prison, unless you get arrested.”
Murph even turned to me and said, “The dorm you get to see is where I stay, say yes.”
At that moment I saw a kid asking his friend, “Wanna see my room?!” These men had pride in their facility, pride in their home. They wanted to share their space with us entirely, giving the grand tour and letting us see how they lived. Walking across the large campus, the Assistant Warden of Programs led us along as we saw both open-bay dorms and two-man cells. I won’t ruin the experience for you, but being a guest in these men’s homes gave us an understanding of what their lives were like. They made accommodations for us and we thanked them for their time.
I leave you now with the hope that you might want to experience something good for your soul. These prisons are a part of our communities, and these incarcerated people will return to society. I believe if we can connect with each other from over the fence, we can make it easier not only for incarcerated persons to reintegrate into society but also to make society a better place for us all.
I will never forget Murph and the lessons we taught each other. I hope you’ll take the time to learn five things for yourself. You might just learn five things about yourself.