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June 6, 2003 Hi friends and supporters, I have been in the process of moving this week, but now I have finally arrived in Michigan (at least for a few weeks). When I arrived, I found a long letter awaiting me here from Jesse. I also spoke to Jesse on Wednesday night, and he is excited to have less than 4 weeks until his release date (July 3)! He was scheduled to receive an injection of T yesterday, and he was counting the weeks until his release by them - only one more injection after this while incarcerated, because on the forth Thursday, he will be released! Jesse formally refused to pay his fine this week, which means that no new visitors (meaning none other than his parents) will probably be approved, and he has been moved to a "convalescent" cell - which seems to be just fine, and the inmates there are allowed to sleep later on the weekends. He also said that the two SOA prisoners of conscience who were being held in the medium security FCI have now been moved to the camp, so there are 5 SOA POCs in the FPC now. Jesse sends his love to everyone, and told me again how much the letters that he has been receiving mean to him. As always, his mailing address is included at the end of this post.
Take care and stay strong- Fri May 23 I'm sitting in the visiting room waiting for "Job Fair 2003" to begin. I'm quite curious - will this be helpful, informative? Stupid, condescending? A thrilling mixture? I'm already pretty angry because a friend of mine who has been incarcerated for more than a decade and is released in 10 days is not on the call-out for it. She tried to come anyway and was made to leave. I approached one of the inmates who works in education and frequently 'gives it straight' about the education programs- flaws and strengths alike. She tells me not to ask about things that I don't know about and then goes on a vague but angry tirade about all the things that have been done to help this woman. I say, come on, she's getting out in 10 days! She wants to come. A resounding no, too bad, followed by 'Besides, she came last year.' 'But,' I say, 'She's beign released THIS year. Soon.' 'Good for her.' is the response, rather sarcastic. Conversation over. Personally, even if I believe the education employee, I don't understand the harm in letting this woman come, hear motivational speakers, and do a mock job interview or two (there are no actual jobs here, it's just people volunteering their time to do a mock interview and then give feedback). There are four empty chairs next to me alone, at least 12 empty chairs in the whole room. My gut thought is sending up all kinds of alarm bells about the explanation a middle-class white woman has given me as to why a working class Latina can't coem to the job fair - 'We' have given her too much help as it is. As if simply allowing this woman to be present in the room is some sort of charitable hand-out (and apparently too much of one) that is undeserved. I think that anyone who signed up and/or anyone who is being released in the next 3-4 months should be here. Instead, many people who did not sign up (like me) are on the call-out while others are having to sneak in. In the meantime, it's 8:30 and we haven't started yet. None of the speakers have shown up including the warden who is supposed to 'welcome' us. It was supposed to start at 8. Isn't on of the rules of job interviews (and jobs themselves) 'Be on time'? Grrrrr. I am so angry with this place! The sheer quantity AND quality of how these women are screwed over astounds me. First speaker has arrived : Mrs. Thomas is the head of the social security office here in Danbury. She begins by explaining that the social security office does not have money to 'help out' inmates when they first get out, and that people who are incarcerated don't get SSI benefits but can reapply when they get out, if they're disabled, widowed, etc. My friend who was made to leave before managed to get back in, and sure enough she has a good question about the difficulties of getting a social security card post-911, with the non-help of BOP bureaucracy. This is significant as many employers won't hire w/out the card. So far this speaker is informative, and information can be helpful : one thing has emerged though, which is that the BOP used to obtain the card for you and hand it to you w/ your release papers - they stopped doing this helpful thing, I don't know why. The second speaker has arrived and [says she will talk about job placement, education, scholarships, etc.] I like this woman - she has started out by asking the women what is on their wish list and is now writing down what they say so that she can address their needs - what a novel idea! Mrs. Burnett is a grad student at Yale Divinity School and she has a sister here, incarcerated, which maybe explains her respect. She is talking so far about how to negotiate, gain self-respect, demand and get what you need to succeed, and how to meet your own goals (even when you're in a situation you wouldn't have chosen). She has also connected these things to faith, as a great assett (sp?), and racism (which most of the people here and Mrs. Burnett herself have had to and will have to survive and resist). The talk is fabulous - once again short on actual, tangible help, but motivating and respectful. Third speaker is that crazy 'free money' guy from TV with all the question marks on his suit. He opens up w/ "I got lots of free stuff from the gov't and sold it to rich people for tons of money." He's very funny so far. He also has brought a very thick pamphlet with the long-awaited actual information. Sat. May 24 It has been raining here for four days straight and will probably continue for 2-3 days more. Not raining constantly, but frequently enough that it is always damp, overcast, and cold. I don't mind this kind of weather in a general sense, but it seems to be making everyone a little stir-crazy, myself included. Katherine pointed out to me that my job is very physical and my mind/body probably misses the exercise and exhaustion, even if certain parts of my spirit are rejoicing at how many dandelions there are, how tall the grass has become, etc. The shot on Thursday and the walk today have done a lot to calm me though. Thursday I was also (randomly?) drug-tested (again). (it's been 6 weeks since I self reported) so I am waiting with a mixture of anxiety and resignation for the results. By the way, please don't mention or ask about this on the phone :) The resignation is not bad - by that I just mean that my pee will contain whatever it contains. The worst they can do is put me in the SHU for the rest of my time. That will be difficult but not impossible and I am sure that I will find humanity there just as I have here. My first experience of it was difficult. I feel different though, as a person, at this point. Not less afraid, but less fearful... or something. I don't know. Now I'm gonna move on to, uh, What-it's-really-like part III for lack of a better way of putting it. Since WIRL is basically the shit and scum of prison behind the 'I took a walk today and the clouds were beautiful!' stuff I can promise that the next page or two will take the rest of my energy for the night, writing-wise. At the base of a little five-step staircase that leads the the camp P.A.'s office she and I sit, waiting. We both need injections and the P.A. has forgotten to bring any thing to do with our prescriptions - no medicine, no syringes, nothing. He says he'll be right back, which in BOP-time means he may not come back at all. We are discussing 9-11 - she knows I'm 'one of the protesters' and wants to know 'what were we supposed to do?' I trust her politics from the few conversations we've had and I take time to think about my answer. I start with what I know about what we DID do, I start with the fact that within two months at most we had killed far more civilians in Afghanistan than were killed in NYC. I tell her about my friend at school whose cousin was beaten up because his skin is brown. Class mates worried about losing their visas. Hundreds of immigrants arrested, detained indefinitely. Mosques fire-bombed. And before we've managed to let the smoke clear from Manhattan, before all the bodies have even been financially, let alone emotionally cared for, we are dropping bombs and killing more people in Afghanistan, and eventually Iraq. This, I say, does not speak to me of a peaceful or freedom loving nation. I am near tears and she is nodding so I stop and wait. She says to me, "When I heard that two planes had hit the towers and I
watched on TV as they fell down, and I saw people jumping out of them
to escape, I just felt so scared and helpless" She tells me, "I felt
just the way I did when he used to beat me. You know, he once broke
32 bones in my body. I had to steer with two fingers when I drove
myself to the hospital." It is like looking through one of those
binocular-like toys with picture sets : two planes crashing She has been incarcerated for 15 years and tells me "yes, yes I did what they said, I carried drugs onto airplanes and across national and state borders, lots of drugs - pounds, kilos of coke and marijuana and dope. Yes, I did those things but mostly I am here for not picking up the phone and calling. They told me that if he was abusing me, making me do these things, I should have just left." I'm still back at 32 bones. Thinking, counting - 8 fingers, what else? nose, jaw, ribs ... shoulderblade? collar bone? tail bone? legs, toes, feet? We are facing each-other, both staring kind of blankly at a spot over each-other's shoulders. Finally I say, simply, "That's not how abusive relationships are. You don't just get up and leave or pick up the phone and turn them in for drug dealing." I tell her, "You don't deserve to be here." She nods and tells me more; how she managed to leave once and he found her quickly, managed to leave a second time, stayed in hiding for 3 months, but finally enrolled her kids in school. He called the Board of Education and found out where his kids were - when she went to pick them up one day, he was there, waiting. There is a word for this in prison - there is a word for just about everything in prison. Women who do the dirty work, the illegal work, the stuff that gets you shot or arrested, because the man 'employing them' may very well kill them if they don't. Here they're called mules, a different woman informs me. She herself was a 'mule,' here for 5 years for selling crack. I ask her why this name and she says well, it's like any beast of burden, if you beat them enough they'll work hard for you, you know? It's been two hours that we've sat here talking about domestic terrorism and the criminal justice system. The doctor has not returned, and she says to me, what do you need an injection for, anyway? I swallow and hope she doesn't regret confiding in me after my answer. I have spent weeks perfecting explanations of gender, MY gender, transgender, in anxious anticipation of this very question. Of course, my mind goes pretty blank so I manage only, "I'm transgender. I get a shot of testosterone every two weeks." She smiles. When she was at Carswell, TX, another federal prison, her roommate was inter-sexual. He was born with 'ambiguous genitalia' and the doctor decided to turn the (tiny penis? huge clit?) into a vagina. By puberty he had started developing muscles and body hair while the 'other girls' were getting hips and breasts. She tells me, 'His name was Mike. He was such a sweet heart. I really loved him.' Our conversation is ended as we're both called to the C.O.'s office and told that the P.A. will return between 9 and 10pm with our shots. We part ways, her and I, returning to our rooms. She has been incarcerated since I was 7 years old, the same year I wrote an essay about what I would do if I were president. My mom's parter loves to remind me that I said, "Smokers and nuclear power plant operators would all go to jail." I didn't know then who really goes to jail. I didn't know about 32 bones. I didn't know about mules. She was just starting prison and she felt ok - "I was basically safe," she says. "I mean, they were always telling me what to do, but I was used to that, you know?" I don't know, but I'm beginning to get the picture. Much love, Jesse Jessica Carr 91389-020 |