ban the box

Another super interesting day at San Quentin Prison. When we arrived at the gate, the security guard took one look at my co-resident and said, "No blue." He was wearing blue pants, and since the inmates wear blue, this is a no-no color for any visitors into the facilities, the idea being that if we were being monitored from above we may be mistaken for an inmate and this could put us in danger. There was no leeway in this. We looked at each other and saw the other person rack the possibilities: gift shop? an employee with extra pants? sweet talk the guard? pull out the guidelines given to us that read "no blue jeans" and "no blue" but did not explicitly say "no blue pants"? Then someone suggested going to a nearby Target, which we did, where we acquired a new pair of pants, that we later returned after the day was over. Entering the prison that day I paid attention to their clothes, and found that their blue pants really did resemble what my co-resident was wearing, and it was interesting to consider how much that mattered, to distinguish ourselves.

We saw patients in the morning, which I generally enjoy for the exposure to the characteristics of this patient population (a lot of hepatitis C and liver disease, chronic pain, mental health in addition to the bread and butter diabetes and asthma) and for getting to know the individuals better. But the most interesting part was the afternoon.

We were able to attend a session in a class called Community Justice, that was started by a nonprofit called Alliance for Change. It is a 16-week curriculum where a group of inmates attend class four days a week to learn about civic engagement. It is organized by previous members of the course, and run and taught by the inmates to other inmates. Today's course was a debate regarding a real bill hoping to become a law, commonly known as Ban the Box. Simply, it bans employers from making an applicant check a box on their application regarding whether they had been convicted of a felony, until the applicant's full qualifications had been reviewed. If the applicant was then offered an interview, this information could then be attained, but not prior.

There were 22 inmates, and they were split into four groups representing 1) special interest groups against the ban; 2) special interest groups for the ban; 3) citizens against the ban; and 4) citizens for the ban. Each inmate had to go up in front of the large group and speak for two minutes about their position. It's amazing how much personality you can ascertain from two minutes, and I found it endearing when some of them were clearly very nervous about speaking in front of such a big group. Afterwards, the leader asked the group how many had never spoken in front of a group, and half a dozen raised their hands, which blew me away. I wasn't surprised rationally, but it was a concrete reminder of how different our environments have been, and it made me very proud of them for continuing this group and giving each other this opportunity. And some who had been very quiet during the small group discussions became clear and adamant during their moment, which was also touching.

I was also very impressed by how well the inmates argued against the ban. It was clear that the group was strongly for the ban, given their situations and experiences. But they carefully considered others' thoughts into this, and raised many strong points about economics, safety, and rights. They were also funny. One memorable speaker charged with speaking against the ban ended his argument with: "I ask those of you supporting this ban to ask yourself, would you want to work next to a creepy convict?"

Of course the obvious juxtaposition was that the group felt the very opposite of this stereotype. They were warm, engaged, very supportive and respectful of each other. And it seems that this is in large part due to programs and classes like these. I think the issues of what should happen in prisons and how and why are still very complicated, but there doesn't seem to be any question to this being good.