Trust Your Struggle, page 43
“Yes, sir, it does seem that way,” I agreed.
“Do you have any additional ideas that you’d like to share?” he asked.
I wasn’t going to be fooled that easily again.
“I might,” I replied curtly.
The Chief chuckled at my refusal to indulge him with anything further. “Well, feel free to share them with Mr. Clapper or myself so we can discuss the potential of putting them into effect.”
“I will,” I promised with my fingers crossed.
The last thing I wanted to do was share any of my ideas with the Chief. I didn’t want the Chief to stiff me again like the last time and I definitely didn’t want to keep feeding the mouth that failed to apologize for the lies and ill will he spoke about me. I’d be remiss, however, to not admit that even though the Chief refused to let me have a direct hand in the NMPEP classes, he still allowed the rest of the Level IV inmates the great opportunity to learn important health information in a fun, engaging way.
“You gotta let go of your pride and trust your struggle, McGee, everything is happening for a reason.”
I went to bed that night torn between sharing my ideas with the Chief or selfishly keeping them to myself because the Chief had made it clear - my ideas would not include my direct helping hand. I was debating between my integrity and pride and I couldn’t decide which one I wanted to listen to.
“The walls in prisons that surround you can be cold and bitter, making it difficult to resist joining in its misery but I see that the Spirit, which is warm and loving, has protected you from succumbing to that darkness. I admire your strength and faith, mis hermanas.”
I replayed what Ms. Trinity had said to us the day she came to visit because I remembered how good it made me feel to know I had not allowed the negativity to completely overcome me and I didn’t want to give into it now. But I had too many mixed feelings to make a solid decision at the moment so I conceded to sleeping on things and promised to myself that whatever I woke up feeling compelled to do, I would honor it.
I woke up the next morning knowing exactly what I was going to do. I needed to put in a request to speak with Bellator, ASAP.
“What can I do for you, Ms. McGee?” Bellator had responded to my request a week later and I was sitting in her now familiar office.
“I was hoping we’d be able to help each other, actually,” I proposed.
“Well, I can think of a hundred different ways I could probably help you,” she said lightly, “but what might you be able to do for me?”
“I’d like to help limit the number of incidents in your units,” I said boldly.
Bellator raised an eyebrow, “And how do you propose you’d do that?”
“Well,” I explained, “I’ve discovered the one thing that seems to help people walk on a straighter path - hope. And not just any kind of hope, but the kind of hope that is promising and worthwhile. If I can offer the women something to hope for by sharing the lessons I had to learn in order to make my sentence successful, then I’m confident that’ll help prevent some of the incidents in your units.”
“Forgive me if this sounds rude,” Bellator said candidly, “but I’m not sure the Administration would deem your stay here a ‘success’, Ms. McGee.”
I nodded my head to acknowledge her perspective before I countered. “Look, I know I’ve messed up during my stay, but I’ve also been able to regain my composure in a way that has been able to benefit not only myself but those around me. Have you heard how NMPEP classes are now being offered in Level IV?”
“Yes, I heard something about that.” she admitted.
“Did you also hear how our unit hasn’t had a single incident since the classes started over a month ago?” I asked proudly.
“Well, no I didn’t know that,” Bellator sounded mildly impressed.
“Well, it’s true and I’m the one who made the suggestion to bring the project into the unit because I believed the women deserved more opportunities to rehabilitate themselves and I was right.” I gave a small smile and shrugged my shoulders to show humility. “I’ve also been through every level possible so my experience is invaluable and relevant. I know my stay here has had some bumps but I was still able to keep a good head on my shoulders. For the most part,” I quickly added to maintain complete transparency.
“This is true,” Bellator said with some hesitancy.
“I’m not trying to brag about anything or even take all the credit, I’m just trying to convince you how invested I am in giving the women here a decent shot at regaining their fullest potential. Don’t you want to do that as well?” I took a chance throwing that last question at her and I was counting on our good rapport to ease the subtle challenge I made.
After a brief pause she followed, “Okay, McGee, let’s hear what your idea is.”
I flashed my Colgate smile before I proceeded to explain my ideas.
I was back in my cell fifteen minutes before 11 o’clock count and I couldn’t control the amount of excitement I was experiencing.
“BULLY!” I screamed into the vent.
“WHAT?” she yelled back.
“I’M GETTING THE FUCK OUT OF LEVEL IV!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
“WHAT?! ARE YOU FOR REAL?” she yelled back.
“WHEN AM I NOT FOR REAL?” I asked laughing.
She started banging on her door and cheering in celebration and I just laughed as I plopped down on my cot, exhausted from the adrenaline rush. It felt good to feel this good.
Bellator and I had met for over an hour, discussing the ideas I had and the ways we could implement them, and when it was all said and done, we both believed we were on the doorstep of something remarkable.
“I don’t know how this is going to work, McGee, but I’ll hold up my end of the bargain,” she promised, “if you give your word you’ll hold up yours.”
“My word is bond, Ms. B. After experiencing incarceration I’ve realized that my word is all I’ll ever really have,” I shared openly.
The deal was I would first develop a six-week curriculum that was built around the needs and wants of the women in seg. and CDP, Bellator’s two units, to help them be more productive with their sentences and also increase their self-esteem. Then I would be in charge of teaching the curriculum to the women and reporting back to Bellator the outcomes of the classes. In turn, Ms. B would use her title as Classification Officer to push for my reclassification to Level III since my points would be dropping again in two weeks. If either of us failed to hold up our end of the deal, then all bets were off. I knew she didn’t really lose anything if she didn’t follow through, but Bellator was a woman of integrity and I knew she would honor her part completely.
I had shared with Bellator the activities, lesson plans, and ideas that I had complied while being housed in Level IV and that was what finally sold her on my proposal.
“You’ve really put in a lot of time and energy into this, McGee, you should be proud,” Bellator said emphatically.
“Thanks, Ms. B,” I said beaming. “I was only trying to honor what I had told you - I want to grow out of the system for good.”
“With this kind of creative thinking, you could help anyone grow out of the system,” she said earnestly.
“That’s the plan,” I smiled in response.
It felt incredible hearing how strongly she believed in my ideas and that made me want to perfect them as soon as possible.
Bellator held up her end of the bargain because on the 364th day after I had been arrested and placed in seg., I was finally reclassified as a Level III. A few days before the holiday break, I was moved into AC 201 and I never felt more elated putting on the turquoise shirt that symbolized my re-entry to GP as I really knew it.
“I’m baaaaack,” I sang as I walked into the pod.
I didn’t know every inmate in there but after four and half years of living at NMWCF, I knew more than enough women to make any pod feel welcoming.
“Omg! McGee! You’re finally out!” Ceci yelled as she ran down the stairs and jumped on me, giving me the biggest hug.
“Hey, Ceci, it’s so good to finally see you again,” I squeezed her before she stepped back and gave me a quick head to toe inspection.
“Well, you’re still the bag of bones I remember you to be,” she laughed. “Let me buy you a burger and a soda to celebrate.”
“Ugh! I missed you so much!” I exclaimed. She knew the way to my heart was through my stomach.
I grabbed the two trash bags that were holding my property and took them upstairs to my new cell. I knew better than to just start unpacking so I left them outside of the door while I looked for the cleaning supplies. I spent the remainder of the day cleaning my cell, catching up with Ceci and unpacking my property. By the time 10 o’clock count came, I felt somewhat reestablished and ready to take on my end of the bargain. I had no idea what the end product would look like nor how long it would take to get there, but I had a little less than eighteen months remaining on my sentence and I wanted to spend it doing something meaningful and worthwhile, so this program was exactly what I knew I needed to give my undivided attention to. Bellator had agreed to assign me as an “Educational Assistant” to ensure I had access to the library when I wanted and the Computer Lab in Education when I needed.
I started immediately the next day by interviewing all the women in my pod. Every inmate, except me and a few others, had been housed in CDP before being classified and released to GP so I was confident I would be able to collect useful information. I needed to find out what the women believed was missing in their prison experience that would potentially help them reach the goals they had for their lives; Bellator and I wanted to help the women grow out of the system as quickly as possible. Then I spent the remainder of that week interviewing the women in the other A-Unit pods at the rec. hour and once I had gathered over sixty-five of the women’s comments, I put in a request to Torrez at Education to use one of the computers in the Computer Lab to create a spreadsheet. Two days later I was behind a computer screen, jamming to some music, entering the data I had collected. It felt like it was a good start, but I knew it was only a fraction of the work that I was going to have to put in.
“I’m going to need help if I want to complete this before I leave,” I acknowledged.
I could only think of one person that I knew would love to take on this kind of challenge - Chelsea.
“Hey Chelsea, can you come out to the hall and talk to me for a minute?” I asked politely.
I felt weird looking into my old pod, AD, especially since almost every woman that had lived there when I did was still living there and they were staring at me much like they had when I first walked into the pod, but I had to get over that if I was going to get what I needed. I saw Jay sitting at the t.v. and I waved. She waved back but didn’t smile. We had stopped talking when I had started working for Rio but, now that I was permanently out of the game and no longer a threat, I had no beef with either side so I did my best to keep things cordial.
Chelsea walked to the door and I opened it to let her through before I closed it as quietly and politely as I could.
“What’s up?” she asked with more curiosity than annoyance.
“Hey, I was wondering if you would want to help me with this project I have?” I asked pointedly because I knew we didn’t need to waste time with pleasantries. I had chosen Chelsea to help because I had witnessed her ability to grow and evolve into the woman, friend, mom, and Peer Educator she was proud of and I admired her for that. After the Peer Educators had called her on her shit for mistreating and manipulating the cops and C.O.s, she had made the decision to put in the necessary effort to change and now her talent and value as a leader and Peer Educator was apparent for all to see.
“When someone shows you who they are, believe them,” was one of the principles I carried with me.
“What’s the project?” she asked definitely more curious than annoyed.
I took a deep breath and smiled before I explained. “I’m creating a six-week curriculum for Ms. B that’s going to be taught to the women in seg. and CDP. The goal is to build or rebuild the women’s sense of hope and purpose while they finish their sentences and hopefully that will also help to limit the number of incidents in those units. It’s supposed to be a win-win project.”
“Who thought of that?” Chelsea asked suspiciously.
“I was kind of inspired when you and Snooky came in to teach the NMPEP classes in Level IV,” I said sheepishly. “After you started teaching the classes, our pod remain incident free for weeks and I believe it was because you guys gave us hope again by breaking down the barriers that separate the levels. If it worked for us, then I believe it could work for any level that’s separated by barriers they can’t control.”
“That’s cool, I didn’t know the pod had been incident free since we started with the classes,” she smiled genuinely.
“Yeah, and I also give that lady, Ms. Trinity, some of the credit,” I added. “She gave me a new perspective on faith that I didn’t have before and I want to see where that takes me.”
“What do you mean? You’re religious now or what?” Chelsea questioned.
“Not really,” I said honestly, “but I do have stronger faith and I believe that everything is happening for a reason. Seg. taught me to trust my struggle so I’m trying to see where my struggle takes me. And right now,” I shrugged as I said, “it’s taking me to you, so what do you say? Would you want to get together tomorrow after the supper call-out and brainstorm some ideas?” I asked.
Chelsea thought for a second and then said, “Yeah, I’ll meet with you, but you gotta let Holley come, too, she’s been my sidekick in NMPEP and I know she’ll love to be a part of this as well.”
“Fine, I’m cool with that,” I agreed. “You’re talking about Holley Escalante, right?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Bring her,” I repeated. “Meet me in the Chapel around 6 p.m. and I’ll make sure we have at least an hour to discuss stuff.”
The Chapel was technically a place you weren’t supposed to be able to reserve because it was mandatory that it remained open to GP, but Bellator was able to give us an hour block as long as we helped set up the evening’s church services.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” I said to Chelsea and Holley the following evening. “I hope you’re open to my proposal.”
I was more nervous than I had been in a long time and I knew it was because I really needed them to agree to working with me on this project, but I did my best to disguise my nerves.
“Let’s cut straight to the chase here,” I said as soon as we closed the door and grabbed a chair to sit casually in. “The reason I asked you to join me is because I would like your help in developing a six-week curriculum for the inmates in seg. and CDP.” I paused to let my words sink in before I continued. “The purpose of the curriculum is to provide hope to the women in those units as they serve the remainder of their sentence. Bellator and I believe that hope is the key ingredient to making their time spent in prison as successful as possible. Another purpose of the curriculum is to give the inmates the invaluable lessons of lived experiences. I have been a Level I and an Interim Level VI,” I spread out my arms to demonstrate the spectrum I was describing, “and almost everything in between. And along that journey, I gained a lot of experiences that I know could help prevent the women who have never been in prison from going through the trials and tribulations I had to endure.”
“I haven’t been a Level IV but I have been in and out of prison more times than I care to count,” Chelsea shared. “I’m sure that’s something I could teach the younger women about so that they don’t choose to do the same.”
“Exactly!” I exclaimed excitedly from Chelsea’s show of support. “And Holley, you know what it’s like to have, for lack of better words, a ‘good life’ and then lose it all to the system, so you could talk about how you’ve been able to maintain your dignity by working hard. You’re the only one in the room that has never received a misconduct report and that’s impressive to have if you’re someone who thinks the system is stacked against them.”
“Going on seven years with clear conduct,” Holley said with pride.
“We don’t need you to brag,” Chelsea teased.
We all laughed.
“But seriously,” I continued, “don’t you guys believe you have something to offer the women in seg. and CDP? Something valuable? Something that they can’t get from anyone else or any other program the facility is offering? Something to help them grow out of the system instead of deeper into it?”
Chelsea and Holley nodded their heads in agreement.
“And don’t you want to leave behind something that you’re proud of? Something that you know made a difference in other people’s lives?” I asked.
They nodded their heads again.
I smiled, feeling more confident now that I knew they were on the same page. “Alright then, what do you say? Are you down to help me build a badass curriculum that is so desperately missing in our facility?”
They smiled and, once again, nodded their heads in final agreement.
The Grind
“We’re going to need more information on what the population is missing,” I said one Saturday afternoon. “A-Unit inmates pretty much said the same three things are missing from their opportunities to reach their goals: ways to communicate better with authority figures, ways to overcome their addiction, and ways to be better role models for their kids.”
“Well, do we need more than three topics? Those might be enough to fill the six week time period,” Chelsea suggested.
“We’re going to be with them three nights out of the week, that’s six days for each of those topics. We’re good bullshitters, but I don’t think we can bullshit for that long,” I said lightly. “I think we need a topic for each week.”
