LeRon Barton accompanied a group of teens into San Quentin State Prison to speak with inmates. But there was a lot for a grown man to learn, too.
It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men — Fredrick Douglas
The drive to San Quentin State Prison from San Francisco, California is a beautiful trek. You cross the iconic Golden Gate Bridge into ritzy Marin County. Multi-million dollar houses adorn the streets and astonishing views of the ocean pass by en route to the prison. In pop culture, prisons are usually in secluded areas in a state, but as we arrived at the entrance of San Quentin, I noticed that it sat in a residential area. I, along with three educators , Nancy E., Tom W., and Jeremy T., were given the chance to participate in a forum for the SQUIRES or San Quentin Utilization of Inmate Resources, Experiences, and Studies, a program that allows adult inmates to escort and interact with young men. As I got out of the car and started to make my way to the first of many gates, I stopped and looked at the prison. One thought came to mind — this looks like a fucking school.
Being at San Quentin is surreal. While the drive up was filled with anticipation of what it would be like, what I would experience, nothing can compare to actually setting foot in the facility. The gravity of SQ, as the staff would call it, immediately hits you. Being here is realizing who has stepped through these halls. Infamous figure such as George Jackson, member of the Black Panther Party and author of the influential book “Blood In My Eye” and Stanley “Tookie” Williams, co-founder of the Crips and Nobel Peace Prize Nominee. Being at SQ is also taking in the bloody and brutal history of the facility — the many riots and it being the only prison in California to administer the death penalty.
After passing through three gates and being scrutinized about our dress (I had been anxious about what to wear the night before), we started to walk through a religion center that housed several faiths. I exchanged nods with a brother that was sitting by his self. The group then made it’s way to the prisoner recreational area, better known as “the yard.”
Nancy E. sits at the crossroads of strength, curiosity, intelligence, and sincerity. Nancy has been teaching at SQ for a year, so she has earned respect among the staff and the convicts. So much so that when we walked “the yard” there were none of the catcalls, yelling, and hollering you may expect from men that have been imprisoned for years. Instead the men greeted her by first name. Walking the yard was an experience in itself. All eyes were on us as we walked to the building where the forum was held. We were not accompanied by guards, just Nancy leading us. I cannot lie, I was afraid. I attempted to project an outward sense of fearlessness as I locked eyes with the convicts, but some of the men probably knew I was fearful being there.
The SQUIRES forum was held in the media room where the San Quentin News, a periodical that convicts write, is published. I grabbed a seat next to Dante, a tall handsome light complected Black male that was incarcerated for murder. Arnufo, chief editor of the SQN chaired the forum. Affable but stern, Arnufo explained the SQUIRES program and the purpose for today’s conversation. “Education, Rehabilitation, and Re-Entry” were the main points Arnufo stressed. As I looked around the circle of people, I saw men of many nationalities and ethnicities represented. Miguel, a short but stocky Latino male with glasses started the forum by telling his story of committing murder at 16 and being shuttled around various Modesto correctional facilities. Deeming him a “problem,” Miguel was sent to high security at age 17. Being on lockdown and around older homies, Miguel was “laced up” or given advice on how to prepare for level 4 prison.
A common theme that was expressed is a broken home and no education equaled very little opportunities. A young Asian inmate put it bluntly, “The system is designed to keep you here. It is so easy to get into trouble.” Many of the men talked of being “taken in” by gangs. “They understood me,” a Cambodian inmate said who was convicted of a robbery turned murder, then sentenced 25 to life. Gary, a likable African American inmate, told his story of being born to a prostitute mother and finding the “love” he wanted in the streets. Unfortunately, that love resulted into Gary going into crime which resulted in a 12 year prison sentence.
When the topic turned to Rehabilitation, the tone became more serious and deliberate. The men in blue talked of the over 70 programs offered to inmates at Quentin. Reflective stories of getting tired of gang life, prison politics, and wanting more filled the room. Big Azz, the friendliest former white supremacist gang member I’ll ever meet, recalled being a part of a Shakespeare production that started to turn him away from gang life. “I started working with people that I would have never thought I would.
Black, Latino, Asian… We got along, talked, and laughed. I realized that a lot of what I was thinking and believing was hate and it was keeping me down. I didn’t want to think like that anymore. “ Big Azz then commented on conflict avoidance and resolution: “If more people just sit down and talk, a lot of issues would be avoided. Tommy, a white inmate sitting next to Big Azz, spoke of the various programs that has helped him not only understand the consequences of his actions, but also become emotionally and mentally stronger. “Being punished, I didn’t care. Being suspended in school, I didn’t care. It wasn’t until being in SQ, I started to learn about things like Restorative Justice and people asking me how I feel. Where I’m from, people didn’t talk like that, so it took me for a loop at first. But, I then started to look inward and not only take responsibility for my actions, but to also be a stand up person for the youth.”
If the SQUIRES program is a fit for one person in this group, it would be Efrain. At 19 years old and fresh faced, Efrain is incarcerated for ten years at Quentin and has only been down for a few months. Right now he is attending college classes and hopes to get a college degree. Efrain is at a very important point in his life: young with the chance to be released. Does he take advantage of the opportunities or get deeper into prison politics?
At the final stage of the forum, the topic turned to Re-Entry. The men began discussing the possible plans that they might have when leaving Quentin. One of the most heartfelt moments came from PJ, an Asian inmate that had been incarcerated on a gang related attempted murder. PJ turned to the three youngest inmates Jason, C, and Efrain and warned them of the misinformation older gangsters may put in their head. “Don’t listen to that bullshit they telling you. We are your future. All of us older cats, we have went through what y’all went through, and I can tell you if we could take it all back, we would.”
As the forum was winding down , we were all asked to share our thoughts on the forum, what ideas we would take back to the schools, and our community. I said to the group, “You know, when I look around this group, I see people that look like people I might have hung with, got drunk with, got high with, and did things I shouldn’t have done with. Maybe I got lucky and didn’t get caught. Maybe my mother held me a little longer and sat me down more, I don’t know.. But the fact of the matter is we are imprisoning people for years on little mistakes.
We are warehousing men for years and then sending them out to a world with no skills and no options to make it. So what do they do? They reoffend and become recidivists, back into the system. We have got to equip these guys with marketable skills to make money, to make a living, to make a better life for themselves. Otherwise, we are just full of shit.”
When the forum was over, the visitors got a chance to interact with the men in blue. We shook hands, gave hugs, joked around, pose for pictures, and talked about what more we can do. I spoke with Efrain about the forum and the programs that are offered at Quentin. He said, “The older prisoners and teachers understood. I’m not stereotyped, I’m not looked at as a criminal. I can change.” I watched him as he left.
On our drive home, we all spoke about the amazing experience the forum was. The educators were brainstorming about how they could bring change to their classrooms and implement new strategies. At one point I became silent and sad. I thought about all the men imprisoned for non violent offenses. All the men that committed crimes while under addiction. All the young men that made one simple mistake that has changed their life forever. All of the potential wasted under the guise of laws that were designed to be “tough on crime.” I then thought of Efrain, young 19 year old Efrain that had just been “caught up.”
I think about Efrain sometimes, being a young man in an environment that is unpredictable and violent. I think about his safety while he is serving his sentence, but also his life after prison. Hopefully when Efrain is released, we would have made strides towards a better system of Re-Entry, that Efrain has a chance to move on from his crimes and to a productive and fruitful life. Hopefully.
LeRon – awesome piece. This is ultimately what I take away from this: “I’m not stereotyped, I’m not looked at as a criminal. I can change.” I watched him as he left.” If you tell a man he’s just a criminal, he’ll believe that’s all he is. If you tell a man he can change, that he has options, that he is no different then any other man in his ability to grow and learn just like all of us need to do in life, then you give him a future. Some of us come into the world and we… Read more »