No one would claim that Federal Prison is the place to go if you want to witness emotionally mature men coping with their feelings. While stunted emotional development is on display every day, things reach a low (or high depending on how you look at it) when guys go home. I’m not talking about the guys leaving, I mean the guys left behind. You might think, of course, you’d be happy for your cellie, your workout partner, your card playing buddy to finally get out, but I’ve seen guys express the exact opposite: “That ___hole, leaving me here to deal with this place! He’ll be back in a quick minute, can’t make it out there without me! I thought we were boys, we were like that, but now?”
True, these guys are using anger to cover their actual feelings – of abandonment, jealousy and confusion. Best friends at each other’s throats – you see it weekly. You just hope that they can figure it out before it’s too late. What a shame to aid and support each other for years, making it through the most difficult times of their lives, only to blow it all up in the end. But sometimes both the leaver and the left behind behave angrily and even with downright meanness.
On the flip side, sometimes a guy nobody likes goes home. He’s loud, obnoxious, rude, disrespectful, smell, dishonest, whatever. Makes your time here harder. He may be the guy awake and yelling at 5:30 AM or the one who “jocks” the TV. What a relief when he goes. Everybody shouts, “At last! Never could stand that guy! Good riddance! Whoo-hoo, party! But hold on. This jerk is going HOME! Well, he served his time. But it shoulda been me! He deserves prison more!” The chorus is deafening.
Eventually things calm down and we understand our one truth: He’s gone and we’re still here. Well, at least we no longer have to deal with his behavior. Sometimes, though, the troublemaker will have a moment of conscience and shake your hand on the way out, wish you well. And even though he behaved like an insufferable jerk the whole time he was here, you take the high road, wish him well and move along.
Doing the right thing is not always easy, but it’s still the right thing. Of course, most dudes respond by cussing the guy out and letting him know how they really feel. I have to admit that’s a little cathartic and entertaining for the rest of us. (A psychology student could write quite a dissertation just on these weird goodbye experiences. If the BOP found it in their hearts to help us go to school, I’d write it myself. They top out at GED, though, which is an entirely different post.)
Now check this out. At least 20 times since I’ve been in prison I’ve seen the revolving door in action. Maybe the guy was here in our block, or other prisoners know him from their own earlier bids at other places, but he’s back. And the response every time is joyful: hugs, fist bumps, exclamations of excitement, expressions of camaraderie. Could this be a cover for real feelings? Of course! And it’s so over the top! What did Maya Angelou say? “We do what we know, and when we know better we do better.” Don’t they, don’t we, doesn’t society know better by now? It breaks my heart to see this cycle repeated all over again: poverty, crime, incarceration. The revolving door is real, the numbers don’t lie. While someone of my age, race, education, family support, etc., has maybe a 1-3% chance of returning, for others in different situations it’s 50, 60, 70, even 80%. I’m not saying I know the whole cause, but I can say some things. For instance, behaving like it’s no big deal to be back in prison just doesn’t help the situation. That’s why I have a standing directive with some of the guys in here with 20 year bids. If I return (assuming anything is left of me after my wife, kids, Mom, Dad, siblings, etc. are through with me), immediately upon my walking through the door PUNCH ME IN THE FACE! Then call me a Dumbass!
My point is that we all have to stop accepting the prison revolving door as somehow normal. It’s part of why I try to lend a helping hand to others in here, trying to be part of the solution. Sometimes guys have no one else inside or outside. You have to trust that sometimes an act of kindness can change someone’s life.
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