Pens From the Pen | Freedoms realized within the confines of prison

When I was growing up, my parents drilled into my head that I had opportunities I took for granted in the light of war-torn El Salvador; at Otisville I am reminded how ungrateful and selfish I am about my situation in comparison to incarcerated men in this small upstate town. Nothing can encompass or represent the reality of being in a prison, much less being incarcerated. No form of media, movies, books, or pictures, not even the knowledge from my friends and family who are incarcerated, could have prepared me for the desperate feeling of my heart and soul dragging like a broken muffler every Friday afternoon, leaving a trail of sparks and smoke behind me.

Socially unconscious people would expect a prison to house the worst people that society has to offer, but class readings make it clear that there is a systematic process to incarceration. Otisville’s transition program facilitators—incarcerated individuals alongside whom I have the honor to work—are sincere, honest men who I will cherish, love, and appreciate until the day I die. Only misguided people can believe that prisons are necessary and beneficial to society.

Every Friday I feel the energy that emanates from the classroom where we meet. Prisoners from the general population are just as incredible as the facilitators; I can’t help but feel a great deal of solidarity with these men. One inmate has been in prison since he was 12. He has never lived as a man outside of state control. What is worse, he will be torn from the social context that he knows best—life in the United States—by being deported to a country he knows little about. Another inmate from Central America is one of the first intellectuals with whom I could discuss and contemplate contemporary issues about this region, such as the increase in violence and tourism. Moreover, this knowledge comes from lived experience as opposed to an article or documentary. I love the power of global experiences in our prison classroom, but I indulge in the electricity that flows through my BK and Brick City fibers because I know now that hope in a better society is brewing behind iron bars.

I have not truly experienced prison. I am free and able to make any decision I wish; the only true prison experience is that of an incarcerated individual. However, never before have I felt social and political consciousness—elements crucial to radical and progressive change—jump from state silenced voices into discussions, debates, and workshops so proactively. I thank God for every opportunity I have now because I realize, once again, that eating food from a refrigerator at any time, surfing the Internet whenever I wish, and going to a great liberal arts college is not a given, but incarceration is a reality. Most importantly, I realize the need to rebuild a beloved community in ’hoods around the world along with many of these men.
—Victor Monterrosa Jr. ’07