I am going to prison tomorrow. It’s been in the works for years. Luckily, I am not going there as an inmate. In fact, one of my goals is to never end up in prison. This seems like a manageable aspiration. Quite frankly, the idea of prisons scares me. But I digress.
Tomorrow night I am going to speak at the Shakopee Women’s Correctional Facility. Over one hundred inmates have read my book, Waking: A Memoir of Trauma and Transcendence. The interest and turnout is so high that a kick-ass librarian organized 4 or 5 smaller discussions last week as a primer for my visit. This librarian reached out to yoga teachers in the community – some from my non-profit Mind Body Solutions – to participate in these preliminary discussions. She even reached out to my writing teacher Patricia Francisco (who happens to be mentioned in the Acknowledgments) to lead a group. Patricia called me last week and raved about what an amazing time she had.
Years ago, right after Waking came out, I received a sweet and beautiful letter from an inmate imploring me to come and speak. She wrote another letter the following year and then another. I am not sure why I didn’t respond but, if I am honest with myself, I do know. We live in a time when prisons are bursting at the seams. It is also the time when the in vogue political position is to “get tough on crime.” Our society literally can’t build prisons fast enough, let alone afford to keep them open. Despite all of this, we shy away from the actual reality of prisons. I know I do.
Did you know that the Shakopee Women’s Correctional Facility is the only one in MN that does not have a perimeter wall? Did you know that it is very near a school? Did you know that the last prison break at Shakopee was in 1998 when a teen really wanted to attend a free Smashing Pumpkins concert.
I didn’t.
Do you know why I didn’t? I didn’t because, like many of us, I do not want to think about the people who actually live in prisons. It is easier for them to remain invisible.
I still feel the sting of reading that inmate’s letter. She qualified her request by writing something self-effacing like, “ I know we don’t deserve to have someone like you….” I think that it is because I felt the pain in her plea that I set the letter aside. To get me to finally come, it took an organized, kick-ass librarian who refused to take no for an answer. I am both honored and undeserving. I am going tomorrow night to repay a debt of the heart. My heart heard this inmate years earlier and yet I did not act. I hope I find her and get to say, “I heard you….you affected me…and I let us both down.” If she is no longer there (and I hope she is not) I will find others and give the very best of what I have. Regardless, this inmate’s ghost still travels with me. She always will.