San Quentin News

Written By Incarcerated - Advancing Social Justice

A look inside the bustling San Quentin prison library

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Senior librarian Douglas Jeffrey and Gabriel Loiederman

Senior librarian Douglas Jeffrey and Gabriel Loiederman

Every day, the San Quentin State prison library is bustling with activity. Inmates might be ordering books from the clerks at the counter. Other inmates might be sitting at tables, reading books and talking among themselves.

The windows in the librarians’ offices provide a glimpse of San Francisco Bay as well as the mountains.

In the legal section, inmates pore over law books, which they can order from a slot through a window. They can also sit at a computer to research legal statutes or write briefs at one of the tables.

The library might look like many others outside of the walls, but it serves a particularly important function at San Quentin, where it is considered a space to help educate and rehabilitate prisoners.

The prison is well known for its programs such as Prison University Project (PUP) and Restorative Justice, but they are often full and have long waiting lists.

In such cases, the library allows the men to study independently. “The library begins where the classroom ends,” said Senior Librarian Douglas Jeffrey, who is a member of the prison staff.

The idea of using the library as an educational and rehabilitative tool began nearly three decades ago with San Quentin librarian, Herman Spector, who used reading and writing to reform inmates through a program called “Bibliotherapy.”

“According to a RAND analysis, every $1 invested in such [inmate] education generates at least $4 in economic return,” reports Fast Company.

“The state typically spends $71,000 a year to house an inmate. It costs about $5,000 total to help put one [incarcerated] student through community college”, reports Fast Company.

“Books for Spector were the deathless weapons of progress by which prisoners could be paroled into the custody of their better selves,” wrote Eric Cummings, author of The Rise and Fall of California’s Radical Prison Movement.

One of the most popular sections has always been the law library. Glen Mason, the lead law clerk, said patrons become so knowledgeable that some are able to get their cases overturned through their research findings.

“There have been many inmates that have used the law library to research issues regarding their cases,” said George “Mesro” Coles-El, a recreational clerk, who has worked at the library for five years. 

One of those users is Ronald Chatters, who frequented the law library for two and a half years and is working on a brief to argue for a parole hearing under Proposition 57, which can give him an early parole consideration.

“The two years that I have been researching law has made me literate enough to help others with their cases,” Chatters said.

Coles-El, who works as the lead circulation clerk, said even recreational books can be a valuable educational tool.

“Reading affects your thinking,” he said. “When you read, your thinking changes, which affects your behavior.”

Coles-El himself has been changed by reading. “Before I spent time in the library, all I did was walk around and think negative thoughts, thinking about how I could get over on people,” he said. “But then I read a book entitled ‘Loving What Is’ by Byron Katie. Reading her book helped me to discover that most of the stress in our lives comes from being jealous of what others have.

Patrons working and looking up legal cases on the computer

Patrons working and looking up legal cases on the computer

“Her book influenced me to better thinking, which changed my behavior,” Coles-El added.

Joseph Krauter, lead administrative library clerk, was also changed by a book. “Four years ago, I was an emotional wreck and going down in flames,” he said, adding that he was on the verge of giving up on himself, his program and getting out of prison.

That’s when his grandmother sent him a book called “Neuro-Tribe,” by Steve Silverman, about the history of autism.

“The book showed me through pain and suffering that I can succeed and make something good of my life,” Krauter said. “It helped me to focus and to immerse myself in programs that helped me better myself. Because of this book, I found hope.”

Krauter described the library as a place where inmates can change their perspectives and thinking, and find books full of wisdom to help them do so.

Another librarian and prison staff, Gabriel Loiederman, said the library provides a space for forming positive relationships, which is an important component of rehabilitation

“Whether it’s two legal researchers discussing the merits of a case, or two students helping each other with algebra, the library is there to provide a free environment that can foster these kinds of constructive interactions that contribute to rehabilitation,” he said.

SQ’s Law Libraries Serve All

Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

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Few would connect author Zora Neale Hurston with movie director Spike Lee. But, if you know Lee’s She’s Gotta Have It (1987), you’re familiar with Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937).

Both stories chronicle the three relationships of female characters and men who struggle to suppress the female protagonist. In She’s Gotta Have It, Nola Darling is always in control of the men she laid with, while in Their Eyes Were Watching God no matter what physical abuse Janie suffered, she kept her independent thought.

Hurston through Janie’s character paved the way for powerful and independent storytelling about Black women.

The story begins with Janie leaving home after getting married to begin a long journey into the world. After making it back home almost three decades later, she was “…full of that oldest human longing — self-revelation.”

Self-determination, the novel’s central point, is realized through Janie’s second marriage to Joe. Joe’s expectations are that Janie would be subservient to him. As time goes on, Janie’s disappointment in marriage grows.

“It must have been the way Joe spoke out without giving her a chance to say anything one way or another that took the bloom off things.”

The novel’s plot is thought-provoking but it’s Hurston’s use of language that makes the book a compelling read.

In the preceding passage about Joe, for example, Hurston reveals Janie’s inner beauty by simply using the word “bloom.” Hurston exposes aspects of Janie’s good heart by quoting her lamenting the fate of a poor old mule that local men have teased:

“People ought to have some regard for helpless things.”

Hurston’s narration not only conveys a sense of the characters, her use of authentic dialect and the way it captures southern attitude add dimensions to the story:

“Dat’s how come us don’t git no further than us do. Us talk about de white man keepin’ us down! Shucks! He don’t have tuh. Us keep our own selves down.”

With her use of unique imagery, Hurston builds tension by creating sympathy for Janie and dislike for Joe.

“She stood there until something fell off the shelf inside her. Then she went inside there to see what it was. It was her image of Jody tumbled down and shattered.”

The following passage contributes to our understanding of Janie’s perspective while married to Joe.

“… mostly she lived between her hat and her heels, with her emotional disturbances like shade patterns in the woods—come and gone with the sun.”

It wasn’t until she meets Tea Cake, her third relationship, that Janie’s life improves. When Hurston describes their lives together, Hurston weaves sparkling and energetic prose into the story that gives the reader a sense of happiness:

“the train beat itself and danced on the shiny steel rails mile after mile.”

However, a sudden hurricane foreshadows what’s to come – symbolizing events out of control.

Hurston’s vivid description of the powerful way the hurricane affected the characters places the reader in the scene:

“Through the screaming wind, they heard things crashing and things hurling and dashing with unbearable velocity.”

As I was reading the book, I was curious about the title and was pleasantly surprised when I came upon this passage in the middle of the hurricane:

“They seemed to be staring at the dark, but their eyes were watching god … the mother of malice that trifled men … death found them watching, trying to see beyond seeing.”

The publication of Their Eyes Were Watching God in 1937 demonstrates that powerful and independent Black women have existed in the U.S. for quite some time.

Juan’s Book Review

Lucifer

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The new FOX series “Lucifer” depicts a lopsided view of America’s criminal justice system, but that may be the least of its sins.
In “Lucifer,” Laura German plays Chloe Decker, a homicide detective who struggles to be taken seriously by her male co-workers. Tom Ellis plays Lucifer Morningstar, the fallen angel and beguiler extraordinary. Morningstar is the dark half of his and Decker’s buddy cop-consultant team — think ABC’s hit show “Castle,” but replace author Richard Castle with the Devil.
Lucifer loves quips and sex (in that order). What distinguishes him from Richard Castle is his obsessive compulsion to punish criminals and bad people who always turn out to be one and the same.
The SQ Reviews team meets in a lot between the Education Department and San Quentin News. The team discusses how the mainstream media romanticizes corruption in law enforcement. Members of SQ Reviews have also been watching FOX’s “Second Chance” and NBC’s “Shades of Blue,” two shows featuring corrupt police officers as protagonists whom the viewer should support.
“Lucifer falls into the same category as these other corrupt cop shows,” I said. “How is it in the age of Black Lives Matters that media still cast corrupt authority figures as heroes?”
“They’re playing to the confusion in society,” replied Juan Meza. “Everybody knows that there’s something wrong with our justice system. They think it’s the criminal, and so they cheer for the dirty cop – been that way since Dirty Harry,” said Meza. He added that audiences don’t want to see that some cops represent the problems with the justice system.
“Yeah, it’s hard for people to see problems with law enforcement,” said Jonathan Chiu. “They’re blinded by the Bernie Madoffs of the world. I mean, look at O.J. Simpson. The majority of America thought he was guilty and his acquittal gives the average person the impression that this kind of thing happens all the time. They think guilty people in court aren’t punished, so the public gets outraged and says, ‘Lock everybody up. We don’t care how you do it. We just want criminals in jail.’”
“Your O.J. example does happen all the time,” DeWeaver said. “Millionaires get away with crimes, but the thing is the 2.3 million people in prison today aren’t millionaires. Some are even innocent and wouldn’t be in prison if they’d had $5,000 to hire an average attorney.”
Contrary to the view that law enforcement is powerless to bring law breakers to justice, the members of SQ Reviews know how effective the criminal justice system is at obtaining convictions. It is so effective that defendants don’t even have to be guilty.
The National Registry of Exonerations (exonerationregistry.org) registered 873 exonerations that took place between 1989 and 2012, including 10 exonerations that occurred after the person’s execution. Between 2012 and 2014 the rate of registered exonerations increased by 46 percent to 1,304, and in 2015 registration set the record for a single year with 149 exonerations.
This is just registered exonerations. The National Registry of Exonerations investigated 1,170 exonerations (exonerations they don’t include in their register) that occurred “after it was discovered that police officers had deliberately framed dozens or hundreds of innocent defendants.”
Some people may think the 2,623 exonerations is a small number when compared with the 2.3 million people in prison, but we invite such citizens to read Bryan Stevenson’s “Just Mercy” to discover how crushingly difficult it is for an innocent citizen to secure exoneration in the United States.
After you’ve read “Just Mercy,” please answer this: For every 146 exonerated in a record year like 2015, how many thousands weep in their cells because their stories of innocence aren’t clear-cut enough, procedurally valid enough, for exoneration by our murky system?

New Sex Offender Registry limits

Oklahoma has highest incarceration rate in U.S.

Finding Solutions for Community Tragedies

Baggage Claim

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Paula Patton stars in Baggage Claim, a funny romantic comedy about the antics a girl named Montana goes through trying to land a marriage-worthy man in 30 days. Montana’s mother is pressuring her to come to the wedding of her sister, Sheree (Lauren London). Montana feels compelled to produce a fiancé at the big event to avoid her mom’s judgmental eye.
Her friends, Gail (Jill Scott) and Sam (Adam Brody of “The OC”), convince her that 30 days isn’t enough time to meet a new man, so they plan to find her ex-boyfriends and see if any of them have matured enough to be worthy: “Same person, new attitude.”
Montana, Gail and Sam work for an airline and use their connections to find out when her ex-boyfriends are flying. Then Montana arranges to “happen” to be on the same plane with each hunk (Boris Kodjoe, Taye Diggs or Djimon Hounsou.) Ultimately, she discovers the trick isn’t getting married, but staying married, and you can’t do that with just anyone.
Montana’s desperation to land a man puts her through some hilarious situations.
At one point in the film, Montana calls her best friend, William (co-star Derek Luke), for a ride in the middle of the night. She’s stranded in Georgetown, D.C., after another mile-high wild-goose chase. William hangs up on her and she calls back yelling, “Please don’t rob me. I don’t have any money or any friends either,” to an imagery jacker as a ploy get a ride.
The interaction with Sam and Gail is comic too. He is constantly on Gail about her ploys to maintain a healthy sex life.
Although I had a good time watching this movie, I was reminded that Black men owe Black women a huge apology. We have created a huge shortage of good Black men by killing each other and doing other criminal acts leading to mass incarceration.
Instead of being providers and protectors, many of us are dependent on women to take care us — and that’s no joke.

Caring Collectively for Women Prisoners

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For the San Quentin News staff, reporting news from the perspective of women prisoners is challenging. So reading an authentic source, such as The Fire Inside, became a portal into their world.
“The transformation that prisoners’ words go through from being a spoken ‘gripe’ to a printed article validates the writer’s sense that their thoughts and feelings are objective; that they speak to others who hear them in this form,” wrote inmate Urszula Wislanka.
The Fire Inside is a newsletter, which has published 50 editions in 18 years. As an incarcerated man, I felt privileged to learn what issues are important to The Fire Inside writers.
“Brutality and Use of Excessive Force,” is a story about a woman prisoner being pepper-sprayed and beaten by a male correctional officer. After reading about this ordeal described by Tammarra Tanner, the words of Viktor E. Frankl immediately came to mind. In his book, Man’s Search for Meaning, Frankl said, “The most painful part of beatings is the insult which they imply.”
Multiple impressions arose as I thought about what Tanner went through and pondered “the insult which they imply”— being beaten as a prisoner—a woman being beaten by a man—being a woman prisoner and being beaten by a male guard.
I remembered a poem, “with no immediate cause” by Ntozake Shange, which begins: “every 3 minutes a woman is beaten.”
The abuse women undergo every day on this planet is described in graphic detail in Shange’s poem. This was the reality I carried with me into the painful world of Tanner.
A long time ago, I was beaten in county jail for talking.
I juggled Tanner’s reality with my own memories while focusing on Frankl’s statement: “the insult which they imply.” I lingered with her story for a long time. It will never leave me, because beating a prisoner implies so much about who we are as human beings.
The reality is there was no immediate cause for Tanner’s beating. Her story made me think about how prisons operate in this vacuum of ignorance—as if brute force is the answer to complex problems—human problems.
Naomi Murakawa clarified this mindless practice of discipline and punishment in The First Civil Right—How Liberals Built Prison America by quoting sociologist David Garland. She wrote, “in a conversation that assumed the fundamental institutional structure of criminalizing, policing, and incarcerating…the ‘heated’ conflict…became simply a matter of ‘how best to run prisons, organize probation or enforce fines, rather than question why these measures are used in the first place.’”
So, when I read that Tanner was beaten for asking questions about her medical care, I weighed the borders and the differences between guard and prisoner, and of course, the 1974 Stanford Experiment popped into my mind. (A psychological experiment, in which college students were assigned to be “prisoners” or “guards” and some “guards” became increasingly abusive.)
So, the million dollar question becomes: “Why don’t we do something better than what we’re doing now with a prisoner considered to be disruptive, a ‘problem child’”?
I believe that we don’t correct the situation because the public is ignorant of the realities of prison life as unveiled by publications like The Fire Inside.
The Fire Inside enlightened me about healthcare for female prisoners, specifically, that shackling pregnant women has been curtailed. I found out that if someone is experiencing a drug overdose, a bystander won’t be punished for helping. I learned the facts and fiction about HIV and AIDS. And, I learned that the Alternative Custody Program is a better solution to overcrowding.
I was disheartened to notice that the most recent issue was published in the summer of 2014. No doubt funding is always an issue.
The Fire Inside is produced by the California Coalition of Women Prisoners, which holds “volunteer nights” for the newsletter at 6 p.m. on the first Wednesday of every month at 1540 Market St., Room 490, San Francisco. 415.255.7036, Ext. 4. Direct questions to: info@womenprisoners.org.
Juan’s Book Review

The Walking Dead

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For years, the members of SQ Reviews have heard stories about the A&E sensation, The Walking Dead. We gnawed our pillows in envy. Finally, we joined the land of the living in 2014 when KRON 4 syndicated Walking Dead (WD). We could then put our pillows to proper use – a cushioned tray for a bowl of snacks.
WD is such a sensation in San Quentin that several Incarcerated-Americans greet each other on what we call Walking Dead Day with “It’s Tuesday!” We depart with the same exclamation; it’s like the new “bonjour.”
SQ Reviews meets in the lot between the education department and the San Quentin News office to talk about the fifth season of Walking Dead. We quickly fall into disagreement about a central character, Rick Grimes. Grimes is a former sheriff who served as the show’s bright moral compass in Season 1 but who in Season 5 becomes a Machiavellian killer.
“I’m not saying Rick is a homicidal maniac,” says Joe Krauter, the newest member of SQ Reviews. “Yes, the Terminus people had to die, and yes, Rick chose to hack that man to death with a machete, but maniac …?” Krauter scratches the stubble on his cheek while he waggles his free hand, unsure of where he falls on the subject.
Terminus is a town of cannibals who lure desperate travelers with the hope of safe harbor, only to imprison them in cattle cars for eventual slaughter.
“Rick is a good dude, but he does bad things,” says Rahsaan Thomas. He compares Grimes’ decisions to his own past mistakes. He appreciates that WD examines what even the best people will do under extreme circumstances. “Rick had to kill the cannibals. They would’ve either come after him later or other innocents.”
“Can you see what’s wrong with that logic though?” Emile DeWeaver asks. He gives real-world examples that show the flaws in this logic. “‘We have to invade Iraq or they’re going to come for us.’ Or ‘This guy at the party has an angry look, so I have to pull my gun on him before he hurts me.’ If these examples aren’t moral uses of force, how does Rick gain the moral high ground to pre-empt bad behavior with executions?”
Krauter says, “Well, The Walking Dead is a complete and utter breakdown of society and law. In your gun example, you can turn to the law for recourse. There’s no one Rick can turn to for the cannibals.”
“Yeah, every time Rick kills, it’s out of necessity,” Thomas says. “He’s a little messed up in the head, but it’s not like he enjoys hurting people.” Thomas again expresses an affinity with Grimes who, in Thomas’ opinion, makes regrettable choices in difficult situations. “We’re not exactly the same, I get that. Like Joe said, Walking Dead is post-apocalyptic.”
Juan Meza shakes his head. “No, it is the same. You’re always talking about how bad it was in Brownsville when you grew up [New York, in the 1980s]. Violence was daily life. Brownsville was an apocalyptic crap-fest.”
Thomas frowns at Meza’s description of his home. “I wouldn’t call it apocalyptic. It wasn’t always crazy. Before the ‘80s, we used to leave the doors open. Then crack hit. Police stopped caring. There was no law.”
“You do realize,” DeWeaver says, “you just described the general plot of every post-apocalyptic story I’ve read.”
“Right,” Meza agrees. “And there still came a point where Rahsaan Thomas decided it’s not okay to hurt people because they might hurt you.”
“Okay, so Rick just needs therapy,” Thomas says. “That’s what I needed.”
The members of SQ Reviews wonder what Thomas could teach Rick Grimes about finding humanity post-apocalypse.

Life of a King

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Life of a King does an outstanding job of portraying the realities of using chess as a means of saving young men who come from dysfunctional homes with drug-addicted parents. First, studies show that juveniles lack the ability to understand long-term consequences; chess teaches them to think four moves ahead, to see the “end game.” Second, It also teaches teens to see how major drug dealers get rich by using them as pawns.
Life of a King is an inspiring and moving movie about the use of chess to shape young minds. This movie, based on the real life of Eugene Brown, is a gripping tale of Brown’s (Cuba Gooding Jr.) struggle to teach others not to repeat his mistakes.
The movie begins with Eugene’s release from prison after serving 17 years for armed robbery. He passed his time playing chess with Chessman, a man whose only relief from prison is playing chess and reading the Bible. By playing chess, Eugene learns to see the “end game.”
As an ex-con, Eugene lies on a job application to acquire a janitor position at a high school, but winds up being a detention monitor when a tough drug-dealing kid named Clifton (Carlton Byrd) runs the teacher off. Meanwhile, Eugene’s former crime partner, Perry (Richard T. Jones), tempts him with offers of big money “with no strings attached.”
Eugene resists Percy’s seduction and introduces the kids to chess. The class mostly takes to his teaching, except for Clifton and Tahime Sanders (Malcolm Mays). Tahime shows promise as a chess player, but chooses to follow Clifton — until their friend, Peanut (Kevin Hendricks), dies while running with Clifton.
Eugene strives to get accepted back into the lives of his children, Katrina, a law student, and Marco, a juvenile drug dealer. They are both angry with Eugene for missing most of their entire lives during his 17-year bid.
Things get even harder when it’s discovered that Eugene lied about his felony conviction on the job application and he is fired. Thereafter, he seeks to form a chess club on his own and manages to get past the anger and abandonment feelings of his kids.
Gooding Jr. does a great job as Eugene and Mays stands out as Tahime. This movie is a good one to see for anybody who loved Coach Carter, Stomp the Yard or Lean on Me.

Empire

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The most popular show on FOX widens the racial divides in America every Wednesday at 9 p.m. Empire tells the story of Lucious Lyon, a hip-hop music mogul played by Terrence Howard, who’s as cold and murderous as a Roman emperor conquering continents.
Some White viewers may not have another frame of reference for marginalized groups struggling to escape poverty. When these viewers contemplate what it is to be a minority in America, they can only draw their knowledge from what they’ve observed regarding minorities.
That’s true even if their observations come from a ridiculous television show. The show’s portrayals are a greater disservice to minorities because studies show that viewers of color are in danger of internalizing the negative stereotypes glorified by Empire.
Members of S.Q. Reviews have talked about Empire on the Justice Show (90.7 KALX), a project from the University of California at Berkeley Graduate School of Journalism. Many of us feel conflicted about the show.
Though we object to how Empire characterizes minorities, we’re grateful that the popular show employs so many actors of color in an industry that historically excluded minorities from central roles.
S.Q. Reviews meets in the lot between the Education Department and the San Quentin News to discuss Empire.
“The last scene was stupid,” says Juan Meza. “Why would you put a dead body in the district attorney’s car?”
Meza refers to the scene where the district attorney, who is out to bring down Lyons’ empire, finds a dead body in her passenger seat and screams. Rahsaan Thomas explains that the dead man is a former witness against Lyons. She hid the fact that he was missing, so that she could execute search warrants under the premise to harass Lyons.
“Now that the D.A. has the body,she can’t say he’s missing,” Thomas says.
“Yeah …” Meza shakes his head. “If it’s about that, they could’ve dropped that body anywhere.”
“They could have done that,” Thomas says. “But then, it wouldn’t have been Empire.”
“Exactly!” I shoot forward on my seat. I rant about how irresponsible it is to frame an African-American’s struggle against a historically hostile authority with a dead body that reduces a district attorney to hysterics.
“It would be a regular soap, just like Dallas, if they had better writing,” says Meza. “I think it’s the dialogue. They’re stereotyping the way people speak. His kids didn’t grow up poor or struggling. They’ve had the best education money can buy, but two of them talk and act like they’re from the hood.”
“You’re onto something,” I say. “Last week, after listening to me for 30 seconds, a well-intentioned volunteer told me that I don’t talk like I belong in prison. I thought to myself, ‘has diction become the standard of criminality?’”
I then say how I meet many people who think I am the exception to the rule of the kind of people who live in prison. I explain how they don’t realize how many people with my same story have transformed themselves.
“My exceptionalism in comparison to other incarcerated Americans revolves around my ambition and articulation, but my drive and diction cannot be the measurement of human worth and redemption; yet for many it is,” I say. “I’m angry and impotent, and so, yes, ranting about Empire and the way Lucious’ kids talk has become my outlet.”
I fear that if nothing is done to change the kind of images that become popular on television, then there is no chance for changing the result of such portrayals in the streets and among viewers.

The Women of San Quentin: Soul Murder of Transgender Women in Male Prisons by Kristin Schreier Lyseggen

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When Kristin Schreier Lyseggen moved from her native Norway to Berkeley, she saw it as an opportunity to understand the lives of people struggling to survive on the fringes of society.
“All I knew was that I needed to find people who were not easily accepted in mainstream society,” she writes in the introduction of her book The Women of San Quentin: Soul Murder of Transgender Women in Male Prisons.
The Women of San Quentin chronicles interviews with nine formerly incarcerated transgender women. The interviewees recounted physical and psychological abuse while also showing humanity, humor and self-respect.
The interviews with these formerly incarcerated women ultimately leads Lyseggen to ask in The Women of San Quentin, “How can any sane, democratic society justify keeping transgender women in maximum security prisons for men?”
In order for transgender inmates in California prisons to receive necessary medical care and mental health treatment, nine of the state’s 34 prisons have been designated to house male-to-female transgender inmates and two to house female-to-male transgender inmates.
Prisoners with treatment situations are reviewed on a “case-by-case,” basis California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR) spokesman Jeffrey Callison said in an email interview with Lavender Magazine.
CDCR spokeswoman Terry Thornton added, “If a transgender inmate wants female items, and she’s in a male institution, she’ll have access to those items.”
Describing herself in an interview with Lavender magazine as “white, privileged and straight,” Lyseggen contended that people like her need to “start getting involved and not treat these people as second-and third-class citizens.”
http://www.lavendermagazine.com/mylavender/thewomenofsanquentincomesamidhistoricchanges/
Lyseggen’s underlying point: people just want to live their lives.
Transgender women began arriving at San Quentin a couple of years ago. When they got here, I witnessed some of the same prejudices against them highlighted in The Women of San Quentin. On the Lower Yard and in personal conversations, I heard all kinds of negative comments about these women regarding their life choices. Ultimately, I agree with Lyseggen’s premise that people just want to live their lives, because I, too, am a second- and third-class citizen based on my status as a prisoner.
Reading about the childhood of Janetta Johnson, one of the transgender women profiled in Lyseggen’s book, forced me to understand how she did her time in a federal prison in Oregon.
She couldn’t get good-time credits if she went to the hole, so she stayed on the mainline and dealt with the BS.
“Abuse from childhood has followed her through life like a ghost,” Lyseggen writes in The Women of San Quentin.
Johnson is quoted as saying, “The emotional pains, scars, lumps, bumps and bruises outweighed anything that happened to me physically.”
The book ends with both a question and argument: “What do we owe a ‘criminal’? To which I would answer that all of us suffer when someone’s humanity is denied in the way experienced by so many of our people who end up in US prisons.” http://www.glaad.org/reference/transgender
Juan’s Book Review

Minority Report

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How does a focus on retribution break a criminal justice system? Mondays at 9 p.m. you can watch FOX’s new show Minority Report and find out.
Inspired by the movie of the same name, FOX’s Minority Report portrays a society emerging from the shadow of a utopia where murder didn’t exist because the authorities used psychics (precognitive or “pre-cogs”) to predict murders and arrest suspects before the crime is committed. The system fell apart when it was discovered that innocent people could fall victim to misleading predictions.
Retribution-minded citizens likely agree with the members of SQ Reviews that the pre-cog system is unethical, but our ethics diverge with our reasoning. The general tenor of Minority Report, and retributive theories, is that the pre-cog system is unethical because if even one innocent person can wake up with a life sentence, the system is unconscionable. We agree, but it’s a disturbing ethic that misses the elephantine travesty crouched by the couch.
SQ Reviews meets in the lot between the education department and the San Quentin News to talk about the elephant.
“You have this system that can predict who will commit a crime before even the would-be perpetrator knows it,” says Emile DeWeaver. “This society is so caught up in retributive justice that they’re imprisoning people for crimes they’ll commit in the future. Nobody has thought, ‘Hey, we know everyone who might commit a crime. Let’s get them some help BEFORE they ruin their lives.’”
“It’s inhumane,” says Juan Meza. “It says these human lives aren’t worth saving because they don’t have value. This same logic ruled in the 1990s when they started trying more and more children as adults. Politicians pushed this idea that some kids are born bad. The public believed in this bad-seed myth, that these troubled kids couldn’t change, so it was okay to lock them out of society forever.”
Rahsaan Thomas remembers a quote from the only fringe-thinker on the show. “In order for pre-cog to work, the public has to believe that people can’t change. The whole thing reminds me of mass incarceration. The only way a moral country can make up 5 percent of the world’s population but hold 25 percent of the world’s incarcerated population is by believing that the incarcerated population is somehow inherently bad.”
Jonathan Chiu agrees, but he offers to play Devil’s advocate. “It kind of sounds like you guys are making a moral argument against mass incarceration. Like you’re saying it’s inhumane. What would you say to someone who said your crime was inhumane, so you don’t deserve humanity?”
Meza, Thomas and DeWeaver start talking at the same time. They talk about how difficult it is to answer the question. Nobody wants to sound like they’re minimizing the heinous nature of their history, but neither are the members of SQ Reviews willing to be defined by who they used to be.
“I don’t accept that I can’t have morals today because I was a horrible person before,” Meza says. “I’ve done decades of work to get right with Christ, and if I see that something is wrong in my society – my society that I’m a part of, that I’m trying to give back to – I’m going to say something.”
“It’s never okay to deny another’s humanity,” says DeWeaver. “It’s not okay for Minority Report to reinforce the inhumanity of justice without compassion. It wasn’t okay when I shot my victims, and it’s not okay for our society to ignore the humanity of the people it incarcerates.”
SQ Reviews rates FOX’s Minority Report 1 of 5 dinner cookies.

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