Notes from My Cell, April 11

[An activist couple sent me an Emma Goldman portrait/history greeting card, which I translated out loud in Spanish for our few ICE detainee friends; the card itself was so popular among the women I didn’t see it for a few days. It finally came back today – was stuck in someone’s Bible.

Most of us do go to Bible Study and “Church,” but it’s pretty clear both of these are led by horribly under-trained and fundamentalist volunteers. Except for their sweet suburban mom faces, not a lot of love or real Gospel. It’s also definitively geared toward conversion, which is what some girls are asking for – interesting to me to see who enjoys this and who doesn’t. I’ve been thinking a lot about how to capture fundamentalist persuasion and couple it with a more welcoming gospel of love and justice. For example, could you couple the style of Joel Osteen with lessons of good/just stewardship of money and your whole person, or a discussion on systems of poverty?

Today we had ‘Shakedown’ which is when they pull apart your cell and also frisk you good looking for contraband. Fortunately, I’m good to go, they only confiscated one of my pencils, which was really two golf pencils taped together.

Fortunately, I arrived some time after they ended the practice of strip AND cavity searches during shakedown, although they still strip search when you first come in. It’s also good to be aware that cameras and guards – male and female – are watching everything you do, at all hours of the day. Even when using the toilet and shower, and changing clothes. I’ve adopted a manner of modesty-plus-gutsiness, and it doesn’t buy me as much now. It helps to remember at that point, I am just a number.

I saw a cake fight tonight, which is actually round three over about as many days. Each day we do get dessert, a nice surprise, one meal is two cookies, and the other meal is cake. So, one woman was eating bits of the other’s cake while she wasn’t watching. So the ‘victim’ grabbed the rest of the cake and smooshed it in her face, like they do at obnoxious weddings. So, when the next cake dinner came around, the “thief” grabbed a handful and shoved it down the front of the other’s shirt. On round three, she returned the favor. I was laughing so hard I fell off my stool. Glad they didn’t go for the mashed potatoes, and also that they’re good friends.

I confess that I have eaten far too many of the “Nutty Bars” since they arrived in commissary on Thursday – healthy food is hard to come by. Supper is at 4:00 PM, so it’s easy to get hungry at night, and we’re not supposed to take food from dinner back to our cells. (Fortunately, the cookie I did abscond with after lunch I did eat BEFORE shakedown.)

Would you believe I actually spent the weekend napping and reading books for fun in BED? How long has it been? Probably not since I started seminary, with the exception of the Harry Potter books this summer. Usually, I have enough school reading to do that if I do have free time, I don’t want to do more, so that was a nice perk.

I actually don’t mind my cell, it does offer a certain “monastic” function that I was hoping for – just a bed and a desk and the sink/toilet. I do find it a quiet alternative to the dayroom, which has a usually loud TV and everyone playing cards; so when I feel like I’ve been social enough for the day, I head up to read, write, or nap. The next project is to read the entire Quran through, and perhaps all of Paul – the latter at the suggestion of the new chaplain (who, by comparison to the regular volunteers I think actually is pretty good) who suggested as a young pastor I might find more in Paul’s writings as a prisoner among prisoners sharing and thinking Gospel. We’ll see what happens.

4/11/08 – Every night I am here I watch girls cry, usually on the phone, usually because someone hasn’t come to bond them out. This is a pervasive strain in the unit, the issue of bond. The people who are here, for the most part, are people who can’t afford to not be here. My roommate, who finally got out today, went through a terribly painful ordeal as her family went to each member and friend, borrowing money, expecting them to make it back here before each deadline, still not enough, pawning more possessions, again not enough, dissolving into tears after being so hopeful day after day, that they’d already packed. Another girl was given rising bail - $2000 the day of court, $3,000 next, $4,000 the next – or off to prison for the next three years without a chance to go home after sentencing. Federal cases are worse, you may spend years in this building while your case is being processed, and never see the light of day past your six inch window strip. Two girls here are in this predicament. I am extremely lucky. I have a definite ‘out date.’ The chaplain I met with this week suggested I focus my Bible study on Paul, who pastured and taught even as he was a prisoner among prisoners, that this might be a good frame and function for me as a young pastor behind bars. For those of you who pray, pray this week for my young friends in the Holy Name 6, who were treated quite badly in police custody after their nonviolent protest against the war Easter Sunday. They are young, but I think they have admirable convictions. If you can, please contribute to their legal support on my behalf. Many thanks, Peace, LeAnne.