All the scummy motels and the things I had done, the
More I hated myself and could no longer find any beauty within
The longer I stayed gone, the deeper the hurt buried
Itself within me.

The more I did drugs to numb the pain, the harder my
Heart shattered leaving no feeling within. For everyone
I strived for and proved my loyalty to, the more my faith
and beliefs I knew to be true slowly dissipated within me.

All the “homies” I seemed to have that I gave my
All to leaving me empty and alone with no respect left
For myself within. The ones I loved most praying I was
Alive and would find my way home, never losing faith fully
Believing in and forgiving me.

My walls now have a door and a window to see. Its
Not from this prison I sit in I long to be freed.
I have been forgiven by loved ones and I am slowly learning
How to forgive others from within me.

There is freedom in forgiveness and a joy no one can
Take that I hold within. If only I could believe
In my heart I deserve to be forgiven and free. Then
Freedom will be found deep within me.

By forgiving myself, then and only then from my prison
within, will I be free.

It still isn’t real completely yet. You know, what no one tells you is how crazy the emotional transition is. When you’re doing your time, you’re numb. You don’t think too much about your time outside of prison–you can’t. You can’t do your time and remain sane like that. So you just get through it one day at a time. Then I’m free – from me winning my appeal. I went from prison to home with no re-entry program, no transition. Just released at 8pm at night.

I am so thankful to be free and with my family. Free from the chains of my addiction. Most of all, the incarceration of methamphetamines, for me, was worse than any prison cell.

Now, I’m 2 years and 45 days clean. I have a job doing the trade I learned working for Correctional Industries and I have an awesome support system-my family and friends.

I could not do this without them! We all need support. I can’t imagine how anyone can make it without any help, whether it be family or mentors. How can we expect as a community that we can just ship people off to prison and that will remedy all our drug problems, or problems stemming from drug use, etc? Incarceration is the beginning but we can’t just drop people. We have to have support for their re-entry or we’re defeating the purpose. We need people to support inmates upon their release–jobs, mentorship, and community involvement is the only answer to break the cycle of incarceration-of crime and laws being broken and our neighborhoods being violated.

Say all of you want that it’s not your problem. If you believe that, you’re fooling yourself. Until we come together, one community at a time, nothing will change.

I’m very lucky. My family, The IF Project, Kat and Kim and my boss gave me a chance. Now, I’m living proof that if given the chance, we can succeed after prison!

What are you going to do to help your community?

Tiffany Doll

As an educator in a North Carolina public school system, I have found huge success in seeking outside programs & resources to reach at-risk kids. The implementation of these programs at my school, such as The If Project & Trips For Kids – Triangle, has opened the door for the community to take an active role in the educational development of my kids. In my experience as an urban public educator, I have found the only way we successfully reach our at-risk kids is when we rethink the way we define and deliver education.
For the past three years I have been using digital storytelling to give voice to my marginalized students. Each year, I change the focus of the program to include those students whom I feel could benefit from it most. This year I chose to make The If Project the framework of the digital storytelling program after honing in on my at-risk female students. For the first time ever, I am also keeping an online chronicle of my work with one student in particular, named “Hope”.

Hands down, Hope is the most at-risk kid I have ever worked with. At 14, she is a proud, unrepentant member of the Hispanic street gang, Surenos (also known as Southside). She is abreast of her legal rights, as our attempts to quash her “dressing out” (wearing gang colors) at school have been unsuccessful. She legally knows we have no authority to require her to stop wearing (or coloring her hair) blue. She is a walking billboard (and target, for that matter) for all things Surenos. When you consider she explicitly promotes her affiliation on a daily basis to over 800 middle school students, her impact in our building is far reaching.

The traditional educational response when dealing with a kid like Hope is to keep her suspended from school, while compiling the paperwork needed to transfer her out for someone else to deal with. Since August, she has already attended three different schools, and is back with us for the second time. Her next stop will be our alternative school, which is the polite term for our district’s educational dumping ground. She has two years before she can legally dropout.

Hope has experienced more at 14 than I have at 33. She’s already lost friends (and unfortunately lovers) to drive-by shootings, family members to prison, and most recently buried her “surrogate” Dad after he and his girlfriend were violently murdered in an apparent drug deal gone awry. She knows no structure or consistency as friends are here one day and in the hands of immigration officials the next.

I knew that if I were to have any chance at reaching Hope I was going to need to reach outside the classroom walls to find the appropriate voice to deliver the message. When I found The If Project, I knew I had just located the messenger for Hope. I had already attempted to begin this process with her before she left us for the first time in the early fall. I was the “Stay away from gangs” messenger and let’s just say that I didn’t get anywhere. She refused to discuss anything gang related with me, and used her legal knowledge to remain silent when I asked questions. She transferred out of my school before I had made even the slightest progress. She would cross my mind from time to time, as I would read newspaper headlines about missing kids and recent murders. I just knew I was going to be reading about her one day.

When she returned to us in late January, I was delighted! By this time I had located The If Project and given better thought to how I could successfully reach her. It took a few weeks of strong-armed negotiations on both of our parts, before she agreed to meet with me on a regular basis. She got lunch a few times, a free pass to class, and an afternoon hanging out in my office with access to the internet. In return, I gained “cool teacher” credibility, an ad-hoc education about the world of Surenos (as much as she could without jeopardizing her own safety), and an agreement that she would watch the stories of The If Project women.

It did not take long for the voices of the women to begin to reach her. The program gained immediate credibility in her eyes because of the nature of who these women are. It’s one thing for her to hear “gangs are bad” from our Student Resource Officer (or any other adult in the building) and another thing for her to hear it from an incarcerated former gang member. Once again, this only proved that the success of any educational message is often times dictated by who is delivering it. LaKeisha H. got immediate “street cred” in her minute and a half story, while I am still floundering sharing my middle class upbringing stories months later. By giving the women of WCCC a voice, an opportunity, and a chance to impact a child, The If Project is already changing lives.

Hope and I are only at the beginning of our journey together. There will be setbacks, and disappointments along the way, just as there will be progress and teachable moments for us both. In time, when she feels comfortable enough to do it, Hope will find the confidence to tell her own story. And maybe, just maybe her voice will impact another the way the voices of The If Project have impacted her.

To follow our journey, post comments or messages of hope, you can find us by visiting www.storycorp.wordpress.com.

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

—
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

–

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

—

“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

—–

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.

——

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