“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“I’m a little nervous,” says Clayton.
Clayton is a handsome young man and one of our guests tonight. I feel his nervousness when we shake hands. He is here for Kindway Embark’s monthly navigators gathering. This is Clayton’s first time stepping foot into a prison.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” I say, hoping to set him at ease. “You’re in for a treat tonight!”
In truth, in this moment, I feel a tinge of sadness and shame. Sad because another human being harbors fears about who I am being an incarcerated person; and, shame for having subjected another person to the consequences of my past actions.
The public harbors stereotypes about incarcerated people, stereotypes perpetrated by Hollywood movies and popular crime shows. Reality couldn’t be further from the truth. We are people who made very poor decisions in our pasts. We are brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers. We laugh and cry, hope and believe like anyone else.
We are, to put it simply, just people.
“Movies like Shawshank Redemption and popular crime shows perpetuate stereotypes about who we are,” I say, to Clayton and the other men sitting at my table – Ron, Joseph, and Miguel.
Joseph and Miguel nod knowingly.
I am engaged with numerous Columbus, Ohio based organizations dedicated to helping incarcerated people and restored citizens. These organizations exist on donations, some federal grant funding, and prayer — a lot of prayer. Kindway Embark is one of these organizations.
Tonight’s gathering is sponsored by Kindway Embark. It is part of a year long hands on mentorship aiming to grow strong Christian brothers and sisters through intense pre-release preparation. The focus is on faith based reentry success.
Tonight we are celebrating our faith. For a couple of hours we discover one another through social interaction centered around conversation, food, group games, testimony and prayer.
“Okay! Game time!” says the emcee. “We are going to play the game of ‘Would You Rather,'”–everyone erupts in laughter–” except this is the Christian version! “
“First question: Would you rather witness the Red Sea parting or Jesus walking on water?”
Immediately the room fills with animated chatter as dozens of outside guests and Kindway Embark participants discuss answers.
“I’d want to see Jesus as he walks on water,” says Clayton.
“Yeah, me too,” says Miguel.
“Yeah, I agree,” says Ron.
I find myself in the minority and second guessing my choice.
“I’d want to witness the parting of the Red Sea,” I say.
“You wouldn’t want to see Jesus walking on water?” says Miguel.
“Uh, well — yeah I would, but I think I’d like to witness the Red Sea parting that would be astounding.” I suddenly feel sheepish.
After a couple of other ‘Would You Rather’ questions my table erupts into a game of its own.
I say: “Okay, how about this; if you could go back in time and meet any one human — and not Jesus, that’s a given — who would it be?”
Someone mentions wanting to meet Abraham. Someone else mentions wanting to meet one of the biblical kings.
“I would go back in time to meet Eve,” I say. The whole table is suddenly intently focused upon my words. “I would go back to meet Eve in the moment where she reaches for the apple on the tree. I would stop her.”
“Oh, right,” says Clayton, “that’s noble!”
The others utter similar thoughts.
“She has no idea the pain and suffering she unleashed upon the world.”
There’s a brief moment of heavy gravity at the table. I break the moment by changing subjects. I talk about my 31 year journey incarcerated and how in many ways it has revealed blessings in disguise. Miguel and Joseph eagerly add in their incarceration experience.
The night wraps up with a group prayer. We form a large circle and hold hands as one individual leads the prayer.
With my head bowed and my eyes closed I think of all the Kindway Embark volunteers some of whom are restored citizens themselves. I think of tonight’s guests and I thank God for each of them: Robin, Heidi, Pat, Clayton, Tim, Preston, “Wally”, Juan, Ryan, Jeremy, Dennis, Marcus, Drennan, Mike, Emil, Randy, Ron #2, and Vance.
I have a moment of panic as I try to remember if I’m missing anyone, but I leave it to God.
Reflecting back upon the evening I feel immense gratitude. I can see the future one where I am free in a new life with my Kindway Embark brothers and sisters. Tonight I caught a glimpse of the very people that I know will be a part of it and I am grateful.
Amen.
*Christopher Monihan is a writer, author, journalist and Stillwater Award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.
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Tag: Rehabilitation
Don’t Call Us Inmates
*A version of this essay first appeared in Prisoner Express, a Cornell University Durland Alternatives Library publication
In my quest to draw awareness to the plight of the oppressed and enslaved within America’s Prison Industrial Complex, my writings bring me into contact with other like minds. I am empowered when these are fellow incarcerated people like myself.
We are part of an exclusive cadre for better or for worse — today, tomorrow, and forever — that we didn’t choose but I long ago embraced. We share a collective bond borne from adversity forged through time, that transcends race, creed and socioeconomic backgrounds. We are incarcerated people and formerly incarcerated people.
We are unbreakable.
Incarcerated people return to society shunned and labeled “convict” “ex convict” “inmate” words meant to subjugate a class of people to societal margins. We have thrived despite purgatory existence, endured corruption and bore witness to their crimes and survived it all. Words will never hurt us.
Like others in my cadre my days are regimented, by choice, of course, and not due to any edict or arbitrary rule. No act of verbal or physical assault has conquest over me for I am forged from 31 years on the inside.
Take heed for I am on a mission to lift us, humanize us and empower us. I didn’t ask for this but I will rise to it.
All around me oppression abounds. How is it that a father or a mother should be forced to slave daily earning pennies an hour working a prison job? I stand witness to the mental distress etched across faces young and old. It is cruel and unusual punishment.
What you may not know is that this is by design for the 13th Amendment permits it:
“Neither punishment nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for a crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.”
And we lecture other nations on equality and basic human rights?
Nationally incarcerated people average 14 cents hourly earnings working a prison job. Here on Ohio a tube of toothpaste costs $3.17 in prison commissary. This is the equivalent of 22.6 hours of prison earned wages for Ohio’s incarcerated people average $20.00 a month working 36 hour work weeks. A pair of socks from one of Ohio’s sole source vendors costs $1.95 which is the equivalent of 14 hours of monthly wages; basic bra $9.95 or 71 hours of earnings; and a box of tampons runs $7.95 or nearly 57 hours of monthly wages.
Put another way, this would be the equivalent of a free world citizen working 165 hours to afford four basic items. Would you tolerate this? Yet, somehow it is acceptable that incarcerated people nationwide endure this burden.
How is it okay that the poorest families are disproportionately burdened with financially supporting an incarcerated mother or father, daughter or son?
Families of incarcerated people are systemically preyed upon by monopolistic companies such as JPay, Securus, GTL, and CorrLinks to name a few. It is here in America’s jails and prisons where an email can cost 50 cents, a local phone call $18.00, and a 15 minute Skype style video “visit” $15.00.
Every incarcerated person and their loved ones know these truths for we live beneath this yoke everyday.
I empower incarcerated men and women and draw awareness to life on the inside. This blog is one place where our voices are heard. My journalism is another place, and I engage with local, state and national organizations where restored citizens are helping one another while fostering awareness in the public discourse.
I educate and never pontificate. I fight for those who don’t have the strengths that I do or who have surrendered behind these walls and can no longer live.
I am Christopher Monihan or Mr. Monihan to the thousands of incarcerated people and restores citizens that know me. I hail from the state of Ohio but not by choice.
Those who follow my writings already know these truths. For those who are new, I am grateful to meet you.
Christopher
The Three Horsemen by Christopher
Six years ago, I started this blog.
If I could experience the outside world, where through my pen I break free from the bondage of prison, it would all be worth it, I had thought.
For decades, I have trekked through the desert known as American corrections, where justice is mirage and corruption the only oasis.
When I Fail
“No matter what you do you need to be able to fail and know how to recover from it in order to one day succeed.” —Neil deGrasse Tyson—
The greatest lessons I’ve learned in life didn’t come about through my successes, but through my failures. Our failures force us to examine ourselves. In those moments when we are too stubborn to acknowledge that we’ve failed, the universe kindly allows us to fail again at the same task, the same effort, the same thing. “As you were,” says Mother Nature.
Right. As you were.
Why Your Letters Matter
The early days of my incarceration were difficult. Time felt like a great weight, and I couldn’t see the end of the dark tunnel of my sentence. I had no contact with family, and I found myself incarcerated in a state where I knew no one. To make matters worse, I was on a crash course of discovery about the ways of prison life.