I’m always trying to understand what it is that I get so drawn to as I drive to a place where women are incarcerated. There’s a sadness about it, yet there is something that truly inspires me beyond that — something that truly affects me. I realized tonight what it is.

These personal insights have come after a time of inner struggle between a career in law enforcement and the established relationships with these inmates, many of whom I consider to now be friends. Oil and water. But it works and, really, it’s not oil and water; it’s human and human.
I realized after leaving that there is a connection I have with them that is unique from most other contacts I have on the “outs” (prison lingo for the outside). It is this: we actually sit in front of each other and talk. Talk… So simple… No texting… No emailing… No multi-tasking while attempting to have a conversation. We look at each other’s facial expressions into each other’s eyes and just talk. It’s made me realize how, in this technologically driven world, I have lost that connection with so may people. These women have not only opened their hearts, searched their souls, and pulled back layers of pain to give to this project in the belief of making a difference in some kid’s life, they have also brought me back to the importance of slowing down and connecting face-to-face with those around me. To experience human connection — I have that with them every time I walk into the prison and leave my so-called “communication enhancements” locked up in visiting. I just love visiting them, talking with them, catching up about their families, my work and the project, and watching their expressions and eyes.

I may have just gotten off on a huge tangent, but, for me, it’s been a significant lesson. Ha! I’m using this cursed technology to share it with you! But thanks to these women and this project, I will find a healthier balance and be grateful to have them in my life and for all they continue to teach me. The only difference between most of us is choices and circumstance.

Detective Kim Bogucki
Co-Founder, The IF Project

Kathlyn

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Hi friends,
I feel compelled to tell you about my experience with the Metro State Women’s Prison Choir in Atlanta. They are the ‘Voices of Hope’.
I was invited by the chaplain and choir director at the prison, Susan Bishop, to participate in recording a live cd of the choir’s performance. The performance took place in November, a year ago, and it was life changing for me and for many others.The ‘Voices of Hope’ sang for a packed house at Emory University’s cannon chapel.

I have learned so much from the women who sang there. I have learned about the transformative power of music. I have learned that creating and performing music together requires heart and discipline and teamwork. What the choir women of metro state prison’s ‘Voices of Hope’ has created is nothing less than a triumph of spirit and hard work.
We cannot know any woman’s story and experience within prison walls without having lived it ourselves. But each of us has a story to tell and a song to give.

The ‘Voices of Hope’ cd has generated many sales, all of which go to fund the children’s center at the Metro State Women’s Prison. The children’s center provides a nurturing and educational environment for kids whose mothers are incarcerated.

I feel forever grateful to have been part of the hopes and wishes and transcendence that creative outlet can provide for, not only women in prison, but for all of us.
Let all of your voices be heard.

Emily Saliers
Indigo Girls

You can find out more about Voices of Hope and purchase a CD here:

http://www.cccgeorgia.org/cd/index.html

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The Department of Corrections is a program based on the idea of punishment. At this point in time this system is not working. Not only are inmates being oppressed on a daily basis, but the public is being exposed to a slanted view of who we’re really locking up. Rehabilitation as oppose to punishment offers many more rewards. The Department of Corrections (DOC) does have programs to help inmates rehabilitate but there are no where near enough. The story of my grandfather comes to mind. He was a struggling alcoholic for many years. His disease forced my mother to grow up without a father, and for him to suffer from various alcohol-related illnesses. He lived in denial, not acknowledging that his drinking was what made his mistakes. In 1997 he decided to go to AA. He found his rehabilitation and has been sober 13 years as of January 21, 2010. My grandfather is a lucky man. Along with his sobriety he regained his health, dignity, and ties to the family. Unlike many struggling addicts/alcoholics he was able to get help, and he didn’t get sucked into the DOC. Since gaining sobriety my grandfather has worked with the Washington DOC through the program Concerned Lifers. My grandfather was lucky enough never to have an “if” because he got the help he needed when he needed it. What if everyone had access to such programs in and out of prison, imagine what kind of change would be made.

Jessica Mara
Seattle, WA

Kathlyn

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“If someone would have told me when I was a little girl that I could be anything I wanted to be when I grow up–I feel I wouldn’t be here at WCCW now.”

-JE

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I woke up early today feeling lost and alone. The holidays are here and mail call is dismal. I have not heard from anyone in a couple weeks. Then I have to stop myself and wonder, is this how my family felt when I was gone for almost a year? How selfish am I? I know my family felt so many more worries. Was she alive, hurt, hungry, cold? Is she being held captive or abused? Is she a prostitute, heroin, crack or meth user, dealing? Does she think of us, love us, remember us? And is she ever coming home?

How could I have so much doubt when they had so much worry and love? Sure my family was disappointed, angry, hurt and did not understand. That did not mean they would leave me for dead–unlike some of the people I was around and the drugs I looked to for comfort–they only wondered what I was willing to do for that next hit. Losing all respect for myself, I thought my family did the same.

I also thought I knew what was best for me. I was wrong. I had to learn the hard way.  Going to prison is no fun. It is dark and lonely. You have no control of your own schedule, let alone the outside. I was a mess when I came into prison.  I was sure no one wanted me, trusted me. Hell, I couldn’t trust myself and didn’t want to be in my own skin.

But that first letter I got from my mom brought me to my knees in tears. Tears of joy, not pain. The pain was slowly fading and the “real me” was surfacing. If my family can forgive me and believe in me, can I? I believe in time I can. Maybe the lost and alone feeling has nothing to do with my family-like my drug use had nothing to do with them. It all lays on my shoulders and whether or not I am willing to take that risk. This way, I don’t have anything to lose. I only have the world to gain.

Each time I look into me, I see that sparkle that used to be me. The one who could laugh, love and smile. Who could feel, touch and be loved. Who could cook, clean and grocery shop. The one who enjoyed walking on the beach and playing at the park. Who didn’t mind midnight bottles and changing diapers. Who wanted to do all that and more day to day.

I am not sure where it is I lost all that. But I do know I miss it and will strive to have it all back with my family where they have always been by my side cheering me on. I choose to live not die. I know it wont be easy, but I am stronger now-sober and with my loved ones.

I know where I was going, where I am now and where I am going to be. I feel good today, not alone and empty. I actually feel that is a difference and worth every day spent in this prison to better my future. Knowing I am loved worthy and worth it.

Angey

This is another way, in addition to their essays and interviews, that they can work to understand themselves and give us an opportunity to do the same.

Below is a blog from Renata, who first encouraged her other inmates to answer the The If Project question.  Her release date is in 2014.

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Yesterday, I was filled with joy.  I had my yearly visit with my mom—it was so good to just hold her!  And now today, I’m a little depressed knowing it will be a while before I see her again.

At times, it’s easier on me to not even call home. Half of my family are still in addictions and my mom has a lot on her plate and I can do nothing to help.  Hearing about my siblings just reminds me of what I, myself, am putting my mom and children through.

I try to stay in the word and continue to work on behalf of myself to be a better mother, daughter and sister.

On Christmas, I will call home and the phone will be passed around.  I think my family will be sad for me but not sad enough to stop their own addictions and that makes me sad.

My new hope is that someday they will see the change in me and want that for themselves.

Merry Christmas.

Renata

“When I spoke to you and the crew, I saw my real self through the eyes of others-the eyes of my friends-and that person was okay. Not only was that humbling, it was also totally freeing.”

It speaks to the struggle, one of the main struggles that these women go through—loving and accepting one’s self. For some of us, it is hard to imagine self-esteem so low that we could make choices so poor that it could lead to prison. I am no expert, but I think I am beginning to understand how this happens. I have read over 250 of their essays and interviewed more than 30 of them. I can only speak from this experience, through what I’ve gleaned from their writings and emotional and open conversations. What I’ve learned is this– the path they all led and the things that shaped them as young people are strikingly similar. Abuse and neglect on every level. This leads to drugs to numb the pain and abusive relationships that mirror what they went through as children and confirm what little value they have for themselves.

So what do we do? How do we stop the cycle before it starts? I think that is our job, to act as a community. To act as a collective that is responsible for those around us. If we did this, if we each widened our nets just a little, could it be possible that no one falls through?

The beauty in all of this is that it’s not too late. It’s not too late for these women to build themselves back up. Just knowing that they are important enough to tell their story. That their story matters. That their voice matters. This in turn makes them feel that they themselves actually matter. And for many, it will be for the very first time. This won’t solve all of their problems, but it most certainly is a beginning.

Kathlyn

Kathlyn Horan
Co-founder/Director

How If could have changed my life forever.

“Who would have known the simple question of “if” would change my life forever? For many years I blamed myself for my mothers’ incarceration. I believed that “if” only I would’ve stayed home and not went to camp, “if” only I wouldn’t have left my mother’s side, “if” only I could’ve been there things would’ve been different these past 11 years.

When my mother was asked the question ”if” her response opened many doors for her and us. The time we have been separated has taken its toll on our relationship. We’ve had our ups and downs. We spent the last 11 years “stuffing” our feelings and only expressing them through anger. Through the “if” project my mother was able to look inside of herself and see what all it was causing her to hurt and releasing it all in efforts to help someone else before it is too late, not realizing it would begin the healing process in our relationship. Once my mom was able to release and open up to how she felt I was able to search my own heart and express to her the feelings I had kept bottled in.

A simple question has opened a world to new relationships. It has given the opportunity for others to think before acting. It has healed relationships. It has given us an insight of what could have helped others make better choices. It has given me a second chance of a mother-daughter relationship.”

Marquita Evans