Jonathan Rivas came to San Quentin, vowing to turn often participate in a coordinated “removal”— where a racial brand of prison politics. That means that those who willfully choose to remain housed among SNY inmates at a non-designated facility are putting their reputation in permanent jeopardy.
“I know there’s gonna be consequences. I’m not scared,” said Rivas. “What I’m scared about is not mak- ing it home—scared of losing my family, my daughter.”
Even at SQ, general popu- lation prisoners housed tem- porarily in the reception center here will sometimes ignore their custody escorts to “take off” or attack the in- mates they perceive to be “no good.”
“I still remember being on the bus on the way here. All of us were worried,” said Ri- vas. “When we first got to R & R (the prison’s Receiving and Release department), we all wanted to know, ‘Are they ‘removing’ guys on the yard here?’
“But the Black guy that worked R & R told us, ‘Nah, that’s not what it is. It’s not like that here—it’s about be- ing yourself now.’”
Once Rivas heard that, and heard about all the self- help programs, rehabilitative
come a positive father figure for his 3-year-old daughter.
targeted prisoner is attacked by multiple assailants. That dynamic forces the target to
“It hits me hard, when I
see things like Disneyland be classified as a “victim”,
commercials, families with Mickey Mouse,” said Ri- vas. “I envision myself there someday being able to buy her souvenirs.”
and hence removed from the facility or, at least, that yard.
“When something needs to be done—you have no choice,” said Rivas about that lifestyle. “It’s stupid, ‘cause they’re trying to brainwash us and make us think like it’s the thing to do.
Although
himself as
cure, his voluntary transfer to
SQ, a recently-made “nondes-
ignated” prison, demonstrates
the young man’s underly- streets changes when you
he describes somewhat inse-
Photo by Javier Jimenez, SQN Jonathan Rivas in white on the fútbol field
Photo by Javier Jimenez, SQN Rivas giving a speech at the Avary Walk
ing strength and courage in starting to make his own life choices.
“I spent six months in the
hole for a stabbing—you 2018. That means that SNY
know, a ‘removal’—but it (Sensitive Needs Yard) pris-
turned out it was a bad call,” the 22-year-old Rivas ex- plained. “I came here because I didn’t want to do that stuff anymore.”
Throughout the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR),
al population” (GP) prisoners largely must base their iden- By Joe Garcia tity on whatever reputation
Journalism Guild Chairperson they earn in prison.
To further such a reputa-
Jonathan Rivas came to tion, prisoners like Rivas San Quentin, vowing to turn often participate in a coordi- his life around and try to be- nated “removal”— where a
racial brand of prison politics. That means that those who willfully choose to remain housed among SNY inmates at a non-designated facility are putting their reputation in permanent jeopardy.
“I know there’s gonna be consequences. I’m not scared,” said Rivas. “What I’m scared about is not mak- ing it home—scared of losing my family, my daughter.”
Even at SQ, general popu- lation prisoners housed tem- porarily in the reception center here will sometimes ignore their custody escorts to “take off” or attack the in- mates they perceive to be “no good.”
“I still remember being on the bus on the way here. All of us were worried,” said Ri- vas. “When we first got to R & R (the prison’s Receiving and Release department), we all wanted to know, ‘Are they ‘removing’ guys on the yard here?’
“But the Black guy that worked R & R told us, ‘Nah, that’s not what it is. It’s not like that here—it’s about be- ing yourself now.’”
Once Rivas heard that, and heard about all the self- help programs, rehabilitative
come a positive father figure for his 3-year-old daughter.
targeted prisoner is attacked by multiple assailants. That dynamic forces the target to
“It hits me hard, when I
see things like Disneyland be classified as a “victim”,
commercials, families with Mickey Mouse,” said Ri- vas. “I envision myself there someday being able to buy her souvenirs.”
and hence removed from the facility or, at least, that yard.
“When something needs to be done—you have no choice,” said Rivas about that lifestyle. “It’s stupid, ‘cause they’re trying to brainwash us and make us think like it’s the thing to do.
Although
himself as
cure, his voluntary transfer to
SQ, a recently-made “nondes-
ignated” prison, demonstrates
the young man’s underly- streets changes when you
he describes somewhat inseing strength and courage in starting to make his own life choices.
“I spent six months in the
hole for a stabbing—you 2018. That means that SNY
know, a ‘removal’—but it (Sensitive Needs Yard) pris-
turned out it was a bad call,” the 22-year-old Rivas ex- plained. “I came here because I didn’t want to do that stuff anymore.”
Throughout the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR),
oners can be housed here— right alongside men who still consider themselves GP. SNY status has always been re- garded as an equivalent to be- ing in protective custody.
Certain Mexican and White prisoners adhere to their own
Dear KidCAT
My name is Jose Hernandez. I’m serving a 68-to-life sen- tence and have been incarcerated since the age of 16. I am now 25 years old and I want to reach out to all of you. I’ve currently been going back and forth to San Joaquin Juvenile Court, and I’ve had a chance to read the SQNews.
Most importantly, and what has inspired me to write this let- ter, are the articles, projects and KidCAT Speaks that has given me more hope—as well as drawn my full interest for the last seven months.
“Gangbanging on the
groups and college courses SQ offers, he said he knew it was time to check it out for himself.
“I want this place right here to be a ground where I can change and grow,” he said. “Being able to find myself now—what I really love to do and having the free will to do it—I realize that’s what being a real man is.
“San Quentin has taught me that success is not about winning. It’s all about learn- ing and improving.”
Rivas deals with the nega- tive consequences whenever he calls home. “My three old- er brothers, they’re in prison on the mainline right now,” he said. “My family tells me that they basically hate me—that they’re disappointed, that they never expected this from me.
“Even the sister of my daughter’s mother tells me, ‘You’re totally devalued. They all just degrade you like you’re nobody anymore.’
“At first, that really made me feel like they were right. It made me feel less than.”
Rivas recently became the newest member of Kid- CAT, unanimously voted in. He continues to impress the youth offender support com- munity with his commitment to self-improvement and be- ing of service to others.
Nou Phang Thou, Kid- CAT’s last founding member to remain incarcerated, has mentored many youth offend- ers during his years at SQ. He noticed Rivas’ openness to change right away.
“One beautiful thing about Jonathan, he has great intu- ition to recognize his own weaknesses,” said Thou. “And then he has the commitment to seek out the help he needs and address those weakness- es—so he can become a better man.”
“I don’t have to be a follow- er, but today I can try and be a leader to the youth that are still lost,” said Rivas. “I just wonder how many of them out there on the mainline will lis- ten to me?”
Even with SQ’s non-des- ignated status and overall progressive culture, many prisoners here still hold on to some degree of their old GP mentality. That dynamic con- tinues to shift slowly.
“Some of them changed their perspective of us,” said Rivas. “They think all SNYs are here for snitching, for be- ing child molesters—stuff like that. But it’s not until they listen to our stories, to my story, that they realize these dudes here have been through some stuff, seen stuff.”
Rivas said he grew up in foster care after his mother abandoned him when he was six and his little brother was four. “I used that as an excuse for me to act out in life. I grew up in juvenile hall.”
“That’s what I did—fight- ing, running away from group homes,” he continued. “Finally, I joined a gang at 14.”
Soon after that, Rivas fought with another youth at his foster facility, got convict- ed for the assault and battery, and would then spend almost four years in juvenile custody.
“I was released 16 days be- fore my 18th birthday,” he re- called. “And I went right back to the streets.”
It wasn’t long before Rivas was arrested again—this time for carjacking, along with gun charges and other crimes.
“I ended up taking a deal for ten years at 85%,” he said. “Right now, I’m set to go home at the end of 2023.”
At SQ, Rivas now facili- tates the Power Source cur- riculum, after being part of
its first graduating class. He credits the nationally rec- ognized self-empowerment program with helping him un- derstand himself and his past mistakes.
“I used to be selfish and never cared about what my family thinks,” he explained. “I never cared if they were happy.
“My dad tried to still be around for me and my little brother. He tried to get us back, but his drinking prob- lem stopped him a lot.”
He spends his weekdays apprenticing as a carpenter in vocational training—a prison job that will give him viable employment opportunities upon reentry. On the week- ends, Rivas looks forward to competing in soccer for his newfound community—often
against outside guest teams through SQ’s organized sports league.
In June, Rivas gave an im- passioned speech at the Project Avary Walk, an event geared toward raising funds that pay summer camp fees for kids of incarcerated parents. Rivas spoke about his daughter, the painful separation his incar- ceration caused—and his mis- sion to make it back to her.
In addition to vocational classes, Rivas struggles his way through the Prison University Project’s college prep courses—non-credited classes he must pass before pursuing an Associated Arts degree.
“Whenever I feel like quit- ting class and giving up, I think about my daughter and someday being able to help her with her studies,” he said. “That always motivates me to keep going.
“You know, at San Quentin, if you’re not taking college courses or participating in groups—you’re just not cool.”
