Juan Haines – Page 3

An emerging class of peacemakers from San Quentin

August 14, 2019 by Juan Haines

Restorative justice program GRIP continues its legacy of healing with its newest grads

After examining their lives, past traumas, their crimes and taking account- ability of it all, nearly 150 incarcerated men underwent a “rite of passage” in San Quentin’s visiting room that ended with the men pledging to live as peacemakers.

Guiding Rage Into Power (GRIP), the 52-week offender accountability program, held graduations on the last two Fridays of June. Incarcerated men, their families, and guest from San Francisco Bay area communities where all in attendance.

“GRIP takes participants on a healing journey deep inside themselves to come back out transformed and ready to serve others,” said Jacques Verduin, the restorative justice pioneer that founded GRIP over 20 years ago.

GRIP participants learn how to recognize and manage emotions that lead to violent behavior, how to deal with the difficulties of daily life, and how their offenses impacted their survivors and the community. Weekly sessions are co-facilitated by those , who have completed the program and been recommended by other facilitators.

During the June 28 ceremony, graduate John “Yayah” Johnson spoke about the group’s mission to become peacemakers, learn emotional intelligence, be mindful and understand how their decisions and actions affect others.

“We learn to be responsive and not reactive. We found the ability to sit in the fire, we learn how to power with, not power over.” Johnson said.

Graduate John “Red” Drew said GRIP taught him how to deal with anger, abandonment, fear, shame, and physical and verbal abuse.

“These emotions are not mine,” he said. “These emotions belong to my pain and trauma that was implanted into my life,” Drew said.

Facilitators Jaime Sanchez y Tare Beltranchuc, graduate Jose Luis Velazquez and outside facilitator Lucia de La Fuente

Each group of around thirty people is identified as a ‘tribe,’ which is based primarily on the cumulative number of years the members have served. Graduate Lorenzo Romero talked about key insights he gained, and bonds he formed within his tribe, Tribe 842.

“We were so authentic and honest,” Romero said. “We were able to recognize dam- age and pain that we caused our victims, ourselves, our families, and our children. We are hurting humans who are able to begin the healing process.”

At each graduation survivors of crimes talked about their experiences bringing tears to some in the audience.

During the June 21 graduation, Patty O’Reilly, whose husband was killed by a drunk driver, shared how her daughter Siobhan—8 years old at the time—asked to meet her father’s killer. Patty initially refused. But the determined Siobhan (also at the graduation), made a greeting card to send the prisoner.

Patty said the request felt like divine intervention so she did what was necessary to meet the offender. She said the meeting was “a moment of grace” that led to forgiveness. Now Patty volunteers as a surrogate victim – someone

Jose Luis Velazquez and Facilitator Lucia de La Fuente who tells their story to of- fenders and engages in dialogue with them – which she describes as a “spiritual journey” from God.

“I get hope with programs like GRIP,” Patty concluded.

During the June 28 graduation, Elle O’Dowd talked about how she began to recover after her daughter, Emily, was killed by a drunk driver in 2009.

“She was amazing, snorted when she laughed, she was beautiful and… she was gone — my life fell apart,” O’Dowd said of Emily. “It came down to ‘how do I want to live my life?’ I saw a bumper sticker that said, ‘Love Wins.’”

She went on to share how she had a conversation with the offender and how he was able to take responsibility.

“He had the courage to face me. I realize the courage that it took to stand in front of the woman whose daughter he killed. At that moment, he became Alan to me, not the person who killed Emily. He became human, to me,” said O’Dowd.

After congratulating the graduates and thanking them for their work, O’Dowd ended her presentation to a standing ovation, repeating the words, “Love wins—love wins—love wins.”

Veronica Jackson, wife of graduate Arthur Williams, told a story about a fly that was bothering them during a visit. She said she tried to kill the fly until Arthur questioned her motivation and commented it was just a fly doing what flies do. She said her husband’s con- cern about the “little things” made her see his transformation into caring about the“bigger things.”

Anthony Denard graduated on June 21 with his wife there to see him.

“It’s a big accomplishment having family here to see this progress in my life,” Denard said.“It’s a way to teach them to make better choices in life so they don’t make the mistakes that I did,” he said, referring to his two young stepsons.

Both sons looked up at their stepfather with pride.

“I’m proud of him. I’m amazed that he made it this far,” said stepson, Zabien Fortenbery.

Denard’s other step-son, Zyvhon Fortenbery, added, “I’m glad that he’s doing this hard work and that he’s not doing more bad stuff so that he can be back with us. I’m glad that all men are doing work to get out.”

There were frowns and quiet shaking of heads June 28 when Susan Shannon, a founding facilitator for GRIP, talked about the new direction her life is taking and how that will limit her future involvement with San Quentin GRIP.

“I’m just changing my base. I’m not leaving GRIP,” Shannon said. “We have unpacked the hardest parts, the most vulnerable parts. We’ve sat in that fire together.”

Xavier Issac Delgadillo from the Consulate General of Mexico in San Francisco, one of the outside guest speakers for the June 28 graduation, spoke about the consulate’s concerns and services for Mexican citizens who are incarcerated.

“We contact them frequently,” Delgadillo said. “We try to facilitate tools to make their release easier. We are proud that our community is involved in this program. This kind of teaching will help them to find an answer.”

Spanish speaking graduate Angel Villafan talked about what it meant to be a peace- maker.

“Due to language barriers, a lot of people lose their voice,” Villafan said. “I want to be that voice that could translate how important the GRIP curriculum is. For the rest of my life, I want to make sure that my past does not become someone else’s future.”

Formally incarcerated men, Bernard Moss, Miguel Quezada, Kenneth Hartman and Vaughn Miles were allowed back into the prison to talk about how GRIP helped their transition back to the community.

“There’s opportunity out there,” Miles said surrounded by inmates he once did time with.

Now working with youth in the city of Richmond, California, Miles said the skills he learned in prison enabled him to use active listening and non-judgmental, validating communication with youth—even when he doesn’t agree with what they’re say- ing.

“What I do is share a piece of my story when I was in the same lifestyle that the youth is in,” Miles said. “Then they’re more inclined to listen. Then there’s the fact that I’ve been in prison, to them that gives me ‘street creed.’”

GRIP Co-director Kim G. Moore shared her insights about GRIP graduates.

“In my experience, GRIP graduates are the most emotionally intelligent people I’ve ever met,” Moore said. “I want GRIP graduates in my neighborhood. I want my 11-year-old daughter to know men like you, men who can understand their emotions.”

Siobhan O’Reilly, the for- mer 8-year-old girl who asked to visit the man who killed her father, echoed similar sentiment. When asked about what message she would send those incarcerated, she said “Always remember you’re human with the capability of loving and being loved.”

Veterans find healing through sharing their experiences

August 14, 2019 by Juan Haines

Veterans Healing Veterans members and volunteers celebrate their graduation

San Quentin’s Catholic Chapel provided space on June 27 for a small group of Bay Area volunteers to meet with incarcerated veterans who’d just completed a rigorous year-long therapy program designed to help them overcome past traumas, including PTSD.

The program, Veterans Healing Veterans from the Inside Out (VHV), began in 2012 by then-incarcerated Ron Self. Self believes giving military veterans the chance to write about their lives is therapeutic, which is why he says Narrative Therapy opens the door to healing. Self has since paroled but continues to work with VHV.

Several outside volunteers, including Sarah Alexander, spoke to seven of the nine graduates as they received certificates of completion.

“I hope that you can take in your hearts what you’ve given me,” Alexander said. “Our VHV groups are all about connection. You touch people outside in ways that you might not imagine. Each of us has the opportunity to share our stories and be listened to—that’s the reciprocal nature of narrative therapy.

“The theme of today’s stage is the cost of pent-up and repeated traumas with no healthy release.”

Referring to Ron Self, VHV program director Rebecca Haskell said, “This is his heart and this is his life. He is so proud of you. Embracing this program is allowing you to embrace aspects of yourself that you weren’t aware of and didn’t understand. The healing is within you, but VHV allows you to express it.”

Mary Donovan of Cal Vets, who formerly worked with VHV, said, “When we make un-judgmental space for a person tell his story, in their own time, they move to healing. We do this by listening. Listening is the essential act. Listening draws out the story.”

Graduate David Anderson served in the Navy and was honorably discharged twice.

“Probably the most important thing that narration does is allow you to express your emotions and feelings in words,” Anderson said. “There is something very healing in being able to put our experiences, thoughts, emotions and feelings into words.”

Tom Ucko, one of the VHV community volunteers, talked of being nervous the first time coming inside San Quentin and walking around unescorted.

“Sitting in my first group, I was stunned,” Ucko said, after hearing about an extreme- ly violent crime.

Ucko said his judgment faded as he began to learn that the men were no longer the men who committed their crimes—that there was regret and shame exhibited from each story.

“Hearing about childhood trauma was especially challenging to listen to—tears were shed,” Ucko said. “In the safety of the circle, I was able to share my traumas and tell my truths. I felt nourished and loved.”

Carlos Smith talked about how VHV helped him with PTSD, the moral injuries he suffered and how his actions have consequences.

“This program has given me a reason to open my heart and mind and make a positive change deep within my inner beauty,” Smith said. “VHV has shown me that there’s a better solution to solve problems and deal with my de- mons, rather than acting out in anger and violence.”

“Amazing Grace” was sung by Rick Harrell.

“It’s a real privilege to be here with you guys,” Harrell said. “I’m not here to sing to you, but to lead you in singing.”

Haskell acknowledged graduates who’d transferred to other prisons—John Robb and David “Solo” Bennett.

“Everyone in this room is an ambassador for VHV,” Haskell said. “If you feel like this program has impacted you in a meaningful way, scream it as loud as you can.”

The new VHV graduates are: David Anderson, Ian Brown, James Dunbar, Darrell Gautt, Andrew Gazzeny, Jerome Hermosa, Emery Milligan, Carlos Smith, and Paul Stauffer.

East Oakland Times publisher Tio MacDonald

July 15, 2019 by Juan Haines

Many people in the San Quentin writing community are familiar with East Oakland Times and its publisher, Tio MacDonald. Dime after dime goes to his Global Tel Link account to keep in tele-phone contact with the more than 120 people in his literary group of incarcerated people all over the state.

A few months ago, I got my hands on one of his publications, Learning Curve, by Death Row inmate Johnny Duane Miles. The story was powerful, but it was the pref- ace really caught my attention.

JH: In the Introduction of Learning Curve, you said that you correspond with around 120 inmates. How do you manage that?

TM: The East Oakland Times is a full-time endeavor.

I accept calls from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., seven days a week. In 2018, I spent over 740 hours on the phone with incarcerated people. The only way I could imagine creating liter- ary works beneficial for both citizens and inmates was to be fully available to the people willing to work with me.

Many people call just to talk. Death Row inmates have a profound need for relationships outside of prison. My work is a balance between an act of compassion for individuals and a concentrated effort to develop writings of literary and public merit.

JH: What have you learned about taking risks in telling the stories of incarcerated people?

TM: I believe that, as people, it is in taking risks that we move forward. By risk, I mean anything done for the sake of others’ happiness or well-being, because, the most important lesson from my interactions with incarcerated people includes writing, phone calls, and visits to now over 25 people, is to take risk. The East Oakland Times is a type of Northern California built in a garage production. The currency at this point that keeps the lights on is the relationships I have formed with people, primarily incarcerated people. The risk I took to write my student and then to reach out to people at SanQuentin and other prisons has been for me a verification of the adage that it is better to give than receive. I understand that all people have needs, and here in California we also have wants, but life ultimately is in considerable proportion about how we treat and respect others.

JH: Why are you interested in the stories of incarcerated people?

TM: I pursued my correspondence with the incarcerated knowing two things, the reputation of present-day San Quentin as a rehabilitation- focused penal institution that heavily emphasizes the liberal and creative arts and that I wanted to create a publication with incarcerated writers. I had never interacted with persons in prison before reaching out to a student of mine, who is im- prisoned with a life sentence. Through correspondence, I began to meet the incarcerated people with whom I would produce a collection of uplifting stories for the people of East Oakland. The work was called Rehabilitation and has been distributed by hand, without cost to the recipients, to over 200 people on the streets of East Oakland.

After Rehabilitation, a few dedicated incarcerated ghostwriters and I developed the My Crime Series, which is a collection of biographies on the incarcerated. These stories are meant to candidly communicate the upbringing, life experience, character and motivations of the incarcerated in order to grant the broader public an understanding of the men and women in California prisons.

In my interactions with the incarcerated, I came to learn of the life experiences of men and
women in prison. I was shocked to hear of the abuses, influences, temptations and life experiences of many incarcerated people. TheMy Crime series is meant to produce empathy for the sake of California citizens’ better under- standing and better evaluation of who the incarcerated are and why each is in prison. The My Crime series accomplishes several goods in that the stories shed light on the mitigating factors contributing to crime in California and the subjects telling their stories gain a sense of giving back.

JH: What is public’s interest in stories from incarcerated people?

TM: The reviews on the My Crime series as well as Learning Curve, have been favorable. Looking at the incredible impact of the pod cast, Ear Hustle has had is encouraging. I aim to create 20 My Crime series books so a wide range of life experiences can be brought to public attention.

East Oakland Times, LLC

P.O. Box 11572

Oakland, CA 94611

Website: www.inmatesmatter.com

Stockton Mayor Michael Tubbs checks out San Quentin Enneagram program

July 15, 2019 by Juan Haines

Enneagram class on lower yard with Micheal Tubbs & wife Anna Tubbs

Stockton Mayor Michael Tubbs and his wife, Anna, came to San Quentin to join a class aimed at helping prisoners gain self-respect and overcome childhood trauma.

Anna Tubbs said they came to the prison because they’re “both social justice concerned. It’s important to meet people directly impacted by policy choices—to be seen personally—to understand the needs of the people.”

Michael Tubbs & wife Anna with Enneagram class & Sponsors

The incarcerated men par- take in a program led by Susan Olesek. It is called The Enneagram Prison Project (EPP): Freeing the Incarcerated from the Prisons of Our Own Making. The program takes participants on a 20- week journey aimed at get- ting a better sense of self. rd, Prior to class on June 3 Micheal Tubbs sat down for an interview. He compared the city of Stockton and its “significant amount of re- sources” with coming inside a prison to see programs such as EPP, computer coding, and college programs. His reaction: “Why did I have to come inside a prison to see this? Why don’t we have these programs on the outside?”

Once the class started, Raiveon “Ray Ray” Wooden read a poem, “Temptation Within Myself.”

He then told a story about childhood abuse and how it traumatized him. Trauma turned to shame, he said, which turned to doubt that warped his thinking about himself.

Wooden said coming to prison gave him the chance to rethink his life from “being one of distant loneliness to finding support and love.”

“It’s hard to share these things and not worry about my pride,” Wooden said as he cited a stanza from his poem: “How to love yourself— how to find yourself”

“I came to prison to be safe,” Wooden said.

Olesek told the class that Wooden’s story is “one of a hero’s journey, on how to reclaim his life; to say it out loud to people makes them look at you in a good way.”

She commented on how adults don’t recognize painful lives in their children. Looking at Wooden she added, “Where did he get the idea that he had no worth? Who wasn’t there?”

Olesek turned to the class and said, “Don’t put yourself down by only focusing on what you did to get in prison without putting your life in the context of the circumstances.”

She told the class that “trauma is when you keep re- living the past.”

Then, she asked how many participants suffered from a childhood trauma. All hands went up, including Michael and Anna.

“How do we organize our society so that we value families?” Michael asked. His concern is to provide a safe and healthy environment for growing families.

“How can you protect your child?” Anna asked. “ You can’t control everything, but you can be there 100 percent as a parent who decides to bring a child into the world.”

Anna talked about working with students who felt like they couldn’t tell their own stories.

“But when these kids do get the opportunity to share their stories, they find out that they are not alone and share similar experiences—the sharing gives them the chance to connect,” Anna said.

Some people are locked up emotionally, the mayor implied. “You don’t have to be in San Quentin to be in prison,” he said.

Britain’s Derby law school members visit San Quentin

July 9, 2019 by Juan Haines

SQ Tour guides speak about prison experiences to Derby law school

Future cops, probation officers and students of criminal justice from Britain got an up-close view of an American prison during a visit to San Quentin. They met the incarcerated artists who had donated paintings to the University of Derby’s gallery.

The art hangs in Friar Gate Square — “It’s a big copper building. People call it the copper box,” said Charlotte Hargreaves, head of the university’s criminology and social science departments. “The art tells a story — you don’t see the inmate; you see the art.”

On the May 30 visit, Hargreaves was joined by 12 undergrads and Tony Blockley, head of policing.

Derby law school stops by the San Quentin News room to hear about its history

Hargreaves and Blockley mingled with the artists in the prison’s art studio while the undergrads toured the prison. When the students completed the tour, they joined the professors in the studio.

“The students are very honest with their questions to the artists,” said Carol Newborg, manager of the San Quentin Arts in Corrections program. “They’ve been all over the U.S. touring, but San Quentin is the only place where they meet incarcerated people.”

Orlando Smith talked about the piece he donated.

Derby students get a first hand look at SQ prison cells

“I envisioned it as the future,” Smith said. “I’m wearing prison clothes, and then I’m at Comic-Con. What that means is that the future is yet to be written — so the piece is called, This or That.”

Stanley Bey has donated art to Derby for the past three years.

“My art talks about the struggles of humanity shouldered by women and men together because without them things will never go to the future and will stay in the past,” Bey said.

Second-year student Ellen Moss said, “I love the art. Each one has a message behind it.” She recalled a painting of a train donated last year by James Norton, “That really stood out.”

Moss said she plans to work for criminal justice reform in the United Kingdom by getting rehabilitation programs into every prison.

“I want young people to get rehabilitation so that they don’t resort to gang activity,” Moss said. “I won’t give up. I’ll write angry letters to all of the leadership, including the prime minister, until they get sick of hearing from me. I’ll tell them when things are bad or they’ve done something awful.”

Hargreaves said the idea of the U.S. trip was “to get an international aspect of criminology and to let the students see systems that are not Euro-centric.”

The students also toured Alcatraz, went on a ride-a-long with Berkeley police, and visited the San Francisco public defender and probation departments.

The students also visited a state university in Los Angeles to study a gang- reduction program, a juvenile hall, a shooting range and the county jail.

“That was awful,” Hargreaves said about the jail conditions. What struck her was the number of people in the U.S. serving sentences of “proper life,” or “life without the possibility of parole.”

There are a significantly lower number of prisoners serving “proper life” in England, only several hundred, while in the U.S. there are tens of thousands. She also noted that the lengths of sentences in the U.S. are much longer for the same kind of crimes in England.

Second-year student Rachael Livermore said she best enjoyed the ride-a-long with Berkeley police.

“They showed us areas where crime occurs,” Livermore said. “It was interesting.”

Livermore says that she would like to become a probation officer and help people with mental illnesses.

“In my family, mental health is a big thing — it’s impacted my family,” she said. “But, I couldn’t work in a prison. I’d come home in tears too many days.”

Livermore said that watching media influenced her perspective about incarcerated people.

“You see things in the media and it’s so harsh. It’s so humbling to talk to you all — you all are so friendly.”

Asked to consider how crime victims might take that statement, Livermore said, “Even though the victim’s families need justice and punishment — many times after decades of incarceration the person who committed, even an awful crime, might not be the same person — people change.”

Livermore liked the painting donated last year that resembled The Scream, “It describes life on the inside very well,” she said.

While in San Francisco, the students served meals to the homeless.

Blockley commented on how working in a soup kitchen affected the students: “When they are serving food, they realize that they are serving human beings and they realize the blessing of their circumstance.”

Hargreaves noticed “the stark difference between rich and poor” in San Francisco. Adding, serving the homeless “humanized the poor. I think our students will learn more this week than their whole three years from the bachelor’s program.”

Hargreaves took notice of armed police officers in the U.S. British police officers are normally unarmed. She said the concept of millions of guns and millions of incarcerated people seems almost “inconceivable,” adding, “the population of San Quentin is equivalent to one of our small towns.”

Next year the university plans to visit Holland before coming to the U.S. with an idea to give students a broader perspective on the treatment of incarcerated people.

Hargreaves talked about her work with juveniles. She said she found it troubling that 14- 15- year-old youngsters read at a 5th grade level and “the system did nothing to address it.” Nevertheless, she said that the UK juvenile system went from incarcerating about 10,000 children to around 800.

“There needs to be much more in rehabilitation and educational opportunities for incarcerated people,” Hargreaves said.

Blockley commented that new police recruits must earn a bachelor’s degree.

“A college degree gives them the tools to critically think about the people they deal with on a daily basis,” Blockley said.

“If we are able to communicate, we are able to see things differently. That’s what an education can do,” Blockley said. “It can allow the officer to consider the cultural differences in the country.”

Blockley said, “If we’re truly about education, it’s about preparing the students for the rest of their lives. The experience that they get from coming inside San Quentin will be remembered for the rest of their lives.

“When our students come in to San Quentin and talk to the artists, that experience cannot be taken away.”

Cultural differences affect the way peoples’ sexual orientations are treated

June 25, 2019 by Juan Haines

Acting with Compassion and Truth (ACT) is a first of its kind of prison program that explores how cultural differences affect the way people with diverse sexual orientations are treated. The group consists of LGBTQ people as well as heterosexual/cisgender people.

California prison officials and a journalist came to San Quentin, on April 10, to see how ACT functions.

A Hmong inmate, Lee Xiong, told a compelling story about how his culture treats gay people.

He said that if a father, traditional Hmong values, learned that his child was gay, “that child would be taken out fishing or hunting and he’d never come back.”

Xiong then revealed that his youngest brother had recently come out as gay. To gain insight to his conflict, he sought out and had a conversation with people in the San Quentin LGBTQ community. He said coming to ACT opened his awareness about his brother.

“This class literally saved my brother’s life,” Xiong said.

ACT’s outside sponsor, Billie Mizell said, Xiong’s response to his younger brother serves as an inspiration, “for all those brave enough to join [ACT]. Mizell added, “Hopefully we can soon replicate ACT in other prisons. Lee revealed a deep love of family and community by showing up for this group and he has worked as hard as anyone I’ve ever seen to acquire the tools needed to be a good brother and good ally. I have seen the ripple effect go far beyond the walls to bring healing an relationship to family and friends on the outside.”

Holly Stuckey, a transgender inmate, quietly sat across from Mizell, She listened to inmates talk about sexual identity issues.

She said she stayed away from ACT for several months, because of shyness.

“I want to start coming back regularly,” Stuckey said. “I’m a meek person. Billie does a good job and that keeps me motivated to come back.”

ACT first began four years ago as an idea presented by Mike Nelson. Before the class started, Mizell said, “I remember asking LGBTQ community what they wanted ACT to be about. I kept hearing that they want to educate the larger community about what it means to be a LGBTQ member in order to reduce the violence, build empathy and to bring both LGBTQ and women’s issues into a man’s prison.”

After some preliminary introductions, Mizell asked the group to use a couple words to describe their feelings about inviting guests that day: excited/nervous; anxious/confused; curious/ awkward; and older/wiser were just a few.

After the check in, Juan Meza and Michael Adams stood in front of a white board.

Meza referred to a ginger bread sketch with brains drawn inside the head, a heart inside the chest area, and symbols for male, female and male/female in the genital area.

Meza pointed to the heart and asked what it represents. “Romantic attraction,” said one participant. “Sexual orientation,” said another. “Right,” said Meza.

“What about this?” he asked pointing at the brain. “Gender identity,” shouted several participants.

Also on the board, LGBTQIA was written. Meza asked what the “T” referred to. “Gender,” the class responded.

“What about the ‘G?’” Meza asked. “Sexual Orientation,” several participants said.

Meza asked where to place “girl” on the ginger bread sketch. A participant called out,“That’s biology.” Another said, “That’s in your head.”

He went through all the words to show how gender is constructed by various terms.

“Terminology is important in the way we communicate,” Meza said as he drew four long lines on the board and labeled the columns, 1-Racial Slurs, 2-Derogatory Terms for Women, 3- Derogatory Terms for LGBTQ and 4-Terms to disparage the Prisoner Masculinity.

The room sat in momentary silence after the participants filled in the columns with slurs and terms. (The majority of the terms are not appropriate for publication.)

Meza then drew a line across the column to demonstrate the intersectionality of the LGBTQ community with ethnic groups as well as incarcerated people.

“When we see the intersectionality of these words, we can see how we ourselves give these words power,” Meza said. “If we didn’t use these words against women, other races and the LGBTQ community, then they’d have no power to be used against us as incarcerated people.” He added, “Sticks and stones will break your bones, but words will break your spirits.”

Eddie DeWeaver chimed in to say, “These words are precursors to violence. They demean people and are used to justify violence.”

Mizell added, “When many people hear these words, knowing that they are precursors to violence, fear comes into play. We all want to live in a place where we feel safe.”

R. “Nephew” Bankston raised his hand and told a story about getting a rules violation about 10 years ago, because he refused to let a LGBTQ inmate become his cellie.

“I’m not living with a homosexual,” Bankston said about how he felt. “We don’t do that,” he added, referring to peer pressure.

ACT participant (front middle) Nate Collins, (left) Jerry Seanphensiki, Brian Alejandro, Lee Xiong, Lam Le and Jerome Watts

Bankston said he came to prison as a teenager in 2001. He then lowered his head and said, “I know what hate looks like. It was a long struggle for me, but now I know that I have to treat people different from that. When I first came to this class, I came just to get a chrono (laudatory informational letter), but when my older brother told me to start calling him she, she taught me all those things in my past were wrong. Now, I’m not here for the chrono. I need to understand my sister.”

“It’s going to be a struggle to learn,” Bankston said. “The board didn’t tell me to come to this class. I’m doing it for me. I sent my sister a visiting form and I’m taking baby steps. It’s for me to figure out where we go from here.”

Mike Adams talked about a time while being housed in North Block that he was afraid of people like Bankston.

“Hearing that Nephew is striving to be a better person helps me heal,” Adams said.

Bankston responded, “When Mike told me that he feared me. That sat with me for a long time.” Bankston looked at Adams and said, “I’m going to do my best to treat you better.”

He added, “I didn’t know the power of words.”

The federal Prison Rape Elimination Act (PREA) makes sexual harassment or assault in prison a serious crime. Amy Miller, an Associate Director for CDCR, asked the class, if anyone ever accepted a derogatory term directed at them, or used a slur against someone else just to be accepted. Nearly all the hands in the class went up.

Miller has more than 23 years of experience in working in California corrections. She oversees CDCR’s Female Offender Programs and Services/Special Housing. The office manages and provides oversight to the state’s three female correctional facilities, Folsom State Prison, California Medical Facility, California Health Care Facility, community correctional facilities, and three conservation camps that house women wild land firefighters. It also manages special programs including policies regarding transgender inmates and the implementation of PREA.

The PREA Statewide coordinator Captain Shannon Stark noted that everybody had a choice where they sat in the classroom. She noted that in other prisons that she’d visited blacks would have sat with blacks, whites with whites and Mexicans with Mexicans. Here, she said there’s diversity.

The class ended with inmate Zakir “Egypt” Jones performing an original rap/ hop-hop song, called I know. She was the inspiration for the song came to her in a dream and an epiphany to where her life was going.

The entire class, including CDCR officials, had their heads bobbing and fingers snapping.

In a later interview, Bankston said that what he learned from the ACT class, he could take to the rest of his community.

“This shows that it’s possible. It’s a good thing to see. People need to hear your struggles. Nephew shows that it’s real,” Stark said.

“It is important to honor the original pilot group who built ACT,” Mizell said. In addition to Meza and Adams, they are Michael “Yoshi” Nelson, Lady Jae Clark, Azrall “Big Az” Ford, Todd “Silk” Williams, C.J. Smith, Mark Hensley, John Windham, Philip Melendez, and Ray Aldridge.

The uplifting experience of Good Friday at San Quentin

June 24, 2019 by Juan Haines

Watson Allison, who spent more than 30 years on San Quentin’s Death Row, was one of many in awe of sunset ser- vices for Good Friday — the day Jesus Christ was crucified.

Allison stood inside the Protestant Chapel as light filtered through its blue-tinted windows, dusk approached and men-in-blue mingled. Listening to Raul Higgins slapped the congas, Albert Flagg’s fingers danced on the piano while Greg Dixon rang out his piping organ. Dixon switched to a Fender guitar, adding a new dynamic to the drumming of Sincere Carter over Leonard “Funky Len” Walker’s bass guitar.

Edward Dewayne Brooks stood stage left, clapping and rocking in conversation with fellow ushers, choir members and the Worship Team.

As he listened, Allison said that he felt like he’s on the right path.

“I have a lot of support from people checking-in with me,” he said. “People come over to me just to see how I’m doing. That’s enriching to the soul.”

Nine long, fresh palm branches sat on the chapel stage. They shared the stage with the cross at the center. The palms stretched, nearly touching the chapel ceiling. A lone branch lay sideways on the stage’s steps.

Chaplin Mardi Ralph Jackson stood at the rear of the chapel as 34-year-old Carrington Russelle took the stage to share his addition to the sermon.

“She spends more time with us than she does with her family,” Russelle said about Chaplin Jackson. He encouraged the men-in-blue to take advantage of Jesus Christ’s sacrifice.

“We made some poor choices to get into this blue attire,” Russelle said. “Now you can make the best decision of your life by accepting Jesus.”

He emphasized that Jesus Christ was not murdered–he sacrificed his life to save us.

Vadim Zakharchenko, 32, gave a tearful sermon that brought attending men-in-blue to their feet. Zakharchenko said that, in the past, he came to church only semi-committed to Jesus Christ. He became tired of living that way, and after a conversation with his mother, he became fully committed to Jesus Christ.

George E. Moss, 49, shared his experience in administrative segregation in isolation after catching the flu. The experience restored his faith, and helped him understand God’s wisdom.

Armando R. Gonzalez’s sermon grappled with where true power comes from and why Jesus Christ sacrificed himself.

Kevin D. Sawyer Honorary Award from PEN America

June 24, 2019 by Juan Haines

BOOK REVIEW

San Quentin News staffer, Kevin D. Sawyer received an honorable mention by PEN America. Out of thousands of submission annually, it’s a big deal in the prison literary world.

JH: What does getting an honorable mention by PEN America mean to you?

KDS: PEN America’s honorable mention raises my creative writing profile to a national level, in addition to the same type of recognition I’ve received for writing as a journalist through the Society of Professional Journalists and receiving The James Aronson Award for Social Justice Journalism. It’s always encouraging to receive recognition. It means I’m probably doing something right.

JH: What inspired Triple Sessions?

KDS: The start of football season always makes me look back at the years I played high school football. I was reading a couple books about football a few years ago and they made me recall the science behind the game. It made me think about the days in the summer when we practiced three times a day. It was like boot camp, but there was so much more involved. Only a boy who’s played multiple seasons of high school football can understand what it was to have been a member on a football team and all it took to be a part of that team. It’s like solider who goes through basic training and combat, you’ll always remember that—hopefully more good than bad. But, in the end, it was never about the sport, it was about the life lesson of teamwork.

JH: How does the inspiration for the story fit into how you see yourself today as opposed to then?

KDS: I realize even more today how important it is to be a team player— because none of us are in this world alone, because we’re interdependent on each other.

JH: Talk about the patriarchal perspective in that boys don’t cry — specifically when you broke your finger and you didn’t quit or tell anyone so that you could stay on the field.

KDS: It was part of the thinking of that time, and it’s probably still the thinking today. Boys are generally taught by men to be tough. Tears were a sign of weakness was the underlying message. But that was part of the psychology coaches used to keep us focused on what was important, and that was the team and the game. It’s why I tried to push through practice with a shattered finger. But as a man more than 40 years removed from that experience, it’s easier to understand why it was necessary to condition young men to operate that way. But it wasn’t about weakness or the game, none of that. It was about life. That’s what we were preparing for.

JH: Talk about violence being part of the game.

KDS: People tend to put violence in one bucket, like it’s all negative. Sometimes we fail to look at violence as part of American football, wrestling, MMA, basketball being a contact sport, even soccer or rugby, but that doesn’t necessarily make it a bad thing, as long as it’s controlled. When you can control your violence like in sports, that’s the ultimate self-control. Somewhere in the story, I wrote that violence in football has to be tempered with discipline. In a way, it makes sense because we’re all animals, but as men we have the ability to think at a higher level. Because of that, we can change our behavior. A lot of people don’t learn that, but that’s what a good coach teaches. They also teach us to not quit. Never. No matter what. Even if the score is 44 to nothing, we’re taught to play hard the full game. Vince Lombardi once said, “I never lost a football game, I just ran out of time.”

JH: Talk about three of your writings that best describe your style.

KDS: My writings pose the classic “Man verses State” scenario, sort of Kafkaesque. I try to push people to think, generally from a political perspective. In my creative writing class, I’ve also written The Award Winner’s Idiom and Power Distribution. Both deal with men facing state- sanctioned psychological and physical violence. My characters try to slow the state’s gradual march toward totalitarianism. That’s what all the movements are about today. If someone doesn’t come away with something profound to think about from my characters’ point of view, what’s the point in writing?

JH: Do you know what story you’re going to submit to PEN this year?

KDS: I’m thinking of submitting a memoir-based story my sister encouraged me to write about the struggle of two African-Americans earning their college degree. That’s a recurring theme in our community, but it’s an important subject when you consider our history in this country.

Scott J. Lawrie’s poetry was inspired by an ex-con poet

May 15, 2019 by Juan Haines

When the young Scottish lad Scott J. Lawrie was introduced to the country’s most famous poet, Robert Burns, it was the beginning of his fondness for poetry. His introduction to American poetry came through the Beat movement. However, his connection to San Quentin came through an obscure poet who did time here—the late Ed “Foots” Lipman.

After Lawrie researched Lipman’s works, he published Only By Flashlight and sent a copy to Zoe Mullery, who holds a weekly creative writ- ing class at San Quentin. Only By Flashlight was reviewed in the March 2018 edition of SQN.

Lipman’s “deliberate and brutal honesty, wit, humor and intelligence” moved Lawrie.

He added, “I feel that a poet must leave part of them- selves on the page. No matter what the subject matter is, the reader will connect emotion- ally and that is what will bring people together and help people understand one another.”

Lipman’s poetry and what your research has revealed, describe your understanding of San Quentin, then and now.

Lawrie: My under- standing or first impression of San Quentin came to me in my early teens through Johnny Cash’s concert. I have listened to that album hundreds of times, especially during this project. Reading Lip- man, I developed a sense of its early injustices, its violence and solitude. This inspired me to find out more about how the prison is today. I discovered the wonderfully accomplished podcast Ear Hustle, which I have been promoting alongside the sales of the collection to help people have a deeper understanding of San Quentin and everything it is achieving.

My understanding now of the prison is that there seems to be a collective effort to better its inmates and to encourage art in all its forms. I recently watched the short film More Than Basketball (there’s a link to the film at www.san- quentinnews.com), I was truly moved and inspired by it. I have never played basketball; I have never been to prison, but I was touched by the humanity nonetheless. I hope that is what Lipman’s poetry can, for others, go some way to achieve.

Mullery: Did or does this affect the way you feel or think about prison and prisoners?

Lawrie: Before this project, I hadn’t given much thought to prison and prisoners. Which I suppose is the unofficial mis- sion statement of the system:

you don’t see them and you don’t have to worry. During the time I have been working on this project, I started to explore my own moral self. How was I in society? What was my place? Was I that ignorant? How did I feel about the justice system—about prisons and rehabilitation? This took a lot of time. I was torn creatively and morally. I was going to release a collection of poetry by a man who had broken the law. On the other hand, I was going to release a collection of poetry by a poet. I asked myself , “Can one man be both?” I think you can. I think the existence of his and many others’ poetry proves that you can. I think the existence of art in the most desperate of surroundings proves it. I came to the understanding that a man who is in prison has already been judged. I am not a judge.

Artist and mentor Pat Mahoney retires

May 6, 2019 by Juan Haines

Pat Mahoney spent the last 40 years coming inside San Quentin to mentor incarcerated artists on the finer points of art; however, he’s best known as a keen listener and caring person.

Mahoney is one of the founders of the San Quentin Arts in Corrections program, sponsored by the William James Association. He retired from the Arts in Corrections program last February.

Mahoney helped create the Upper Yard mural with the Helen Caldicott quote: “We are the Curators of life–We Hold it in the Palm of our Hands.”
“He’s very idiosyncratic and works in an intuitive way,” said Carol Newborg, Program Manager of the William James Association. “His art is inspired by aboriginal themes. It’s holistic — mind, body and earth, very untraditional.”

Several inmate artists gave their comments regarding Mahoney’s impact on them professionally and personally:

“What I noticed besides his artistic talents was his interest to the guys,” said Anthony “Sonny” Ramirez who is in his 20th year of incarceration.

Ramirez has been at San Quentin for around eight years and in the Arts in Corrections program for seven years.

“Guys would start off talking about their art, and then the conversation of the inmate would switch over to someone in his family, like his wife or daughter. What I noticed is that he had the ability to pay attention. I think one of his greatest assets was his willingness and ability to listen.”

Ramirez continued, “Pat likes to portray figures seen on the walls of caves and canyons. Not too many people see them unless they are archaeologists, and they search for that kind of art — those tiny figures are enjoyable to see.”

Lamavis Comundoiwilla has been involved in the Arts in Corrections program since he arrived at San Quentin about 18 months ago. He has been incarcerated 24 years.

“Because of Pat, I start creating my own style of paint- ing,” Comundoiwilla said. “I have a unique form of pointillism, cubism, surrealism and impressionism that are merged together. I learned how to do that from what Pat taught me.”

Jeffrey Isom has been at San Quentin for about a year. He got right into Arts in Corrections and credits Mahoney for improving his art.

“Pat inspires me because he’s very patient when he works with someone,” Isom said. “You can see the love from all of his students. He make me feel accepted. When he teaches, he encourages at the same time.”

Mark Stanley-Bey, has been in the Arts in Corrections eight years. He’s been incarcerated 35 years.

“Pat Mahoney’s character and experience in the art field only increased my ability to express my point of view by using art as my medium, and his instruction has been welcomed and honestly appreciated,” Stanley-Bey said. “The Arts in Corrections program brought to me an opportunity to express the beauty of art and to give back to the community—a sense of purpose and peace through art.”

Mahoney continues to be involved in the art community through his painting, drawing and working with family.