Life in the Cage

This essay this meant to give a brief overview of life on a prison yard in Arizona.  Like most people, my preconceived notions of prison came primarily from television.  The reality of it is rather different.  In some ways better, in some ways worse

The yard where I live it's called a level 3 yard, which is considered " medium" security.  A "1" yard is the "lightest" security and a "6" yard is the highest.  As 6 yard is individual cells, with maybe one hour a day outside.  The meals are delivered to cells, and rec facilities are nonexistent with " common" showers at specified times.

My yard is designated as a sex offender, or SO yard.  In Arizona, S O's are segregated from the general population due to violence against the "lowest of the low," the "scum of the earth." Ironically, due to this fact the population is a bit more educated and tends to be a bit older.  There is far less "gang banger" mentality, and less overall violence, although it does still exist.

I live in a dormitory, with 26 bunk beds making 52 bunks.  There's approximately three feet between the bunks, which were designed for single beds, so the setup is rather compacted.

Every day, we have recreation from 8:00 AM until 10:00 AM, 1:00 PM until 3:00 PM, and 6:00 PM until 7:30 PM.  The yard is a barren dust bowl without a tree or blade of grass.  There are "workout stations," a soccer field/baseball field, a volleyball court, basketball court, horseshoe pit, and a bocce pitch.  There are a few shaded ramadas, one for each race.  And there is a wide variety of games and equipment for check out.

Monday through Friday, we get three meals a day.  The food is edible, but that's about it.  Think elementary cafeteria, but a couple notches down in quality.  While it's not exactly "bread and water" it's not far off.  Many days we get eight slices of bread.  One common breakfast is four pancakes, two slices of bread, and cereal.  Talk about carbs!  "Dinner" is a "take home" sack, with four slices of bread, some processed meat, usually baloney, chips and cookies.  That's every Monday through Friday.  On weekends we get two "hot" meals.

There is a store where we can order snacks, tobacco, soda, ramen soup, and other junk foods.  We get no fresh fruit or fresh veggies...ever.  Everything is canned and processed, with the exception of salad which is iceberg lettuce or cabbage.  That's it, I haven't seen a tomato in a year.

The worst aspect is the complete lack of logic or reason in the ever shifting policies.  I take "building maintenance"  classes, which are canceled more often then held, and we often get strip searched upon leaving class.  We go out to the "strip shack" where we get into stalls to strip down.  But get this.  We leave our "book bags" outside the shack, uninspected, and then pick them up and head back to our homes afterwards.  At the gate between yards, we sometimes get patted down, but again carrying a bag full of "store" or something else that never gets looked at.

There is a decent library, which we must stand in line for, sometimes up to 45 minutes.  Really, I feel that half my time is waiting in lines.  For meals, for store, for medical, for library, to cross the gates, and for "programs" that may or may not be held.

I have a small TV, a CD Walkman, and a lot of books.  They make life bearable.  I read, write, meditate, do yoga, workout, and play volleyball.  Yet time still drags.  I once read about prison that days last forever, but weeks and months blend together to fly by.  It's quite true.

The "correctional officers" (C O's) are mostly respectful, but of course there are those with attitudes who use their power  to abuse inmates.  But this lack of respect works both ways - many inmates love to bait the "cops" particularly those who are assholes, which creates a vicious cycle.  I can receive approved visitors on weekends, "full contact", which means no  glass with the phone.  It's actually a pleasant visiting space with colorful murals and a selection of games and vending machines.

The highlight of the year is the "food visit" where family or friends can bring in food from the outside.  It's like a big picnic and one of the few things to really look forward to.  I've had one thus far as I'm a "newbie" or "fish".

The general environment is like a junior high school boys' locker room, as far as mentality goes.  Constant bravado talk of "fucking bitches" and "I'll fuck you up" tend to dominate.  While this mentality is not true of the whole population, the volume and frequency of such talk makes it seem more prevalent than it is.

There is, of course, the ability to procure things if the price is right.  "Spice" is the current drug of choice, as it does not yet register on the urine tests that are administered randomly.  It's a synthetic marijuana type drug.  The "TV" scenario of trading cigarettes for goods is absolutely accurate.  The standard unit of currency is a honey bun, a sweet danish.  As you may imagine, particularly in a sex offender yard, this is the "butt" of many jokes.  Three cigarettes or two "squeeze cheeses"  equals a soup or an envelope, two envelopes equal a honey bun, and a pouch of tobacco is like a $20.00 bill!

Hustling is a means of income for many.  There are "Powerball" lotteries, sports pools, and an entire underground economy in electrical repairs, tattooing, sewing, and "procurement".

The whole "don't drop soap" scenario is not really present, unless one chooses to take that route, which happens but is uncommon.  Again, I believe it's more common on the general population yards.  I don't know of anyone who is an unwilling plaything for a powerful inmate.

I am able to receive books and CDs via the mail, provided they are sent by approved vendors.  There is no list, to my knowledge, of what is "approved".  Amazon works, but Amazon Marketplace does not.  I could not receive a book sent via "the marketplace," but I could allow it to be donated to our library.  Huh?

All in all, it's not a particularly horrible physical environment.  The worst aspects of it, at least for me, are more psychological than physical: I miss my kids, I've never even met my son, and the fact that I was sent here by the love of my life, who I only ever treated with loving kindness.  In the words of Gloria Gaynor, I will survive.