Cross-Cultural Field Trip

The assignment was to embark on a field trip to a destination involving a culture unfamiliar to me and record the trip in a paper. This paper is is an original work and may not be used, in part or in whole, unless proper credit is assigned to the author.

     On July 26, 2000, I was frisked for the first time.  That one experience alone should constitute a cultural occurrence and education.  It happened in front of a group of 18 strangers and was worsened by the fact that a contraband pager was found on my person.  After leaving it and my truck keys in a tiny, battered locker, I walked into the secure area of the Clarke County Jail to meet with an inmate from the violent women's section.  My cross-cultural experience had begun.
     When faced with this assignment, I really wanted to fulfill the requirements and do something different that would place me out of my personal comfort zone.  The ideas that readily came to mind were that of attending a worship service conducted in a language other than English or going out to the jail during visitation.  I drove by a small neighborhood church that hosts both Hispanic and Korean congregations and noted the times of the many worship services.  For three Sundays in a row, I made plans to go and then discarded them in favor of attending my own church.  I finally decided that plan was not going to happen because I felt as if I were a spy just going in there to gain knowledge with no intention of joining.  So, that left the jail.
     My father has been an employee of the Clarke County Sheriff's Department for many years and is presently director of inmate services.  This encompasses such areas as mail delivery, GED programs, religious services, and the inmate library, as well as others.  Ordinarily, someone like me with no family or friends in the jail and being outside the accepted programs such as social work would not have access to an inmate.  That policy is part of their security measures.  I discussed my situation with him and he agreed to find an inmate who would talk with me.  My main criterion was that he find someone who would not be looking me up in the phonebook at a later date!  He almost immediately had someone in mind who was female, a habitual offender, is my age and has kids.  Visitation times are established on an alphabetical basis by last names and so, after talking with the inmate and gaining her approval, I was set to arrive there on a Tuesday afternoon.  I did ask Dad not to reveal that I was his daughter, partly to protect him and partly to not have the "conversation" begin in a slanted way.
     I drove out Lexington Road turning in at the jail entrance to follow the signs to Visitation.  The parking lot was full.  There was a woman with small children outside the fence on the sidewalk and I realized they were there for the benefit of an inmate I could barely see through a tiny window.  They had their own sign language and communicated while he watched the children.  If you are being held in this jail, this is the only way you can see your children.  There are no family visitation rooms as there are at larger facilities and no one under 12 is allowed in the facility at all.
     The sidewalk I followed was bordered on two sides by a tall chain-link fence topped with razor wire.  Once inside, I stepped through a metal detector and proceeded to check-in where my driver's license was scrutinized after I filled out a form stating who I was and who I wished to see.  The deputies had been advised that I would be arriving but did not know any other circumstances.  The waiting area is small with a few folding chairs and a bank of lockers.  Waiting with me were nine African-Americans, two Hispanics and five European Americans.  Dad had mentioned that there was the possibility my waiting time could be an hour or more depending on how many others were ahead of me and who they were there to see.  The nonviolent inmates have visitation in slightly larger rooms with three "cubicles" to a room while the violent status inmate visitation rooms are singles.  Both kinds involve no contact between inmate and visitor.  Since I don't wait well, I carried in a Flagpole magazine to occupy my wait time.  Sadly, not one other person brought anything to do, preferring to sit and stare.  This was a motif continually repeated during my two-hour visit.  Doing nothing is not something I can do.
     After being frisked, a door was pointed out to me and another visitor and we entered the corridor.  He knew where we were headed and so led the way.  After our arrival at a guard station, our separate visitation rooms were pointed out and in we stepped.  Visits are normally limited to 15 minutes but I had been cleared for twice that much.  It's a common occurrence for pastors, legal aid and others in the helping profession so it was nothing out of the ordinary.
     The door was shut behind me in this tiny room measuring four or five feet in both directions.  A stainless steel stool was mounted on the concrete floor and in front of me was a stainless steel counter.  A phone was to my right.  Directly ahead was a murky double-paned window containing reinforcing mesh and about an inch of cigarette butts and burnt matches.  On the other side of the glass was the person I had made this journey to see.  For the purposes of this paper, she will be referred to hereafter as Shirley.  She is a 38-year old African-American and is well acquainted with the Clarke County Jail.  I could see her trying to size me up and so attempted to put her at ease by explaining that my visit was the result of a school assignment intended to help us become better acquainted with our communities.  After motioning to my small notepad, I asked if it would be all right if I took some notes to which she nodded an affirmative response and our time together had begun.
     She began by telling me how she came to be locked up this time.  She committed a probation violation by not serving her community service hours but feels that, this time, the charges are unfounded.  There were four or five variations of this account told to me during our 35 or 40 minutes together with various numbers of hours being served and not served and reasons why she was in violation.  She was sitting there in front of me in an orange jumpsuit which is the designation of a violent inmate so I asked her how probation violation qualified for this status.  She replied that she was wearing orange because of a previous conviction for "cutting her husband with a butter knife."
 Her jail history actually began in the a nearby county Diversion Center.  After moving away from that area she has continued her arrest pattern here in Clarke County since 1989.  Some of her crimes include DUI and then later driving with a suspended license.  That one irks her because she did have proof of insurance, a tag, and registration, but was just missing the license due to the prior DUI.  She has been arrested for writing bad checks (the number one reason for being arrested in Clarke County), for fraud and for the aforementioned assault on her husband.  She admits to getting into trouble and hanging out with the wrong kinds of people when she is drinking heavily or using drugs.  She lives only for the moment, as she said, when she's under the influence.
     Much of the early part of our conversation centered around institutional life because I think that's what she thought I wanted to hear.  She's seen a lot of changes in the jail during an 11-year span.  When she was first incarcerated, inmates were allowed to smoke, both inside and in the recreational yard.  Now, smoking is prohibited anywhere in the facility and she finds that it's hard to go cold-turkey each time.  Another change for her is a new rule against sharing food at mealtime.  She feels that, if somebody doesn't want a portion of their meal, then they should be allowed to pass it to someone else.  That's wasteful to her.  That led her to talk about how they do get three meals a day during the week but are only served two on the weekends.  If you don't have commissary money then you might be hungry on Saturday and Sunday.  Her next complaint was about the phone. There are telephones available to the inmates on their halls but they only accept collect calls.  She feels they should be allowed to use a prepaid phone card instead of creating a nearly three-dollar charge each time they make a call.  Being on the outside and hearing my Dad talk about jail conditions helps me understand the reasoning behind these seemingly unrelated rules.  Cigarettes, food, and prepaid cards could all be used as powerful currency in a system that tries very hard to eliminate systems of currency.  The only currency remaining would be that of a sexual nature and there is an attempt to suppress that by segregating inmates who are avowed homosexuals or who have caused problems of this nature in the past within the confines of the jail.  This total loss of power and control would be hard for anyone but Shirley has seen some of these privileges disappear over time and that makes it more difficult for her.  She never asked me for anything but in the next few days after my trip, I felt as if I should do something for her to express my gratitude.  I am, after all, giving a gift certificate from a local restaurant to the person who gave me her time and attention for my cross-cultural interview.  I have decided to put an equal amount in Shirley's commissary fund for her use.
     Her next complaint was about the commissary and how much profit she has calculated that they must make off the incarcerated.  She stated that she "pays taxes too" and they shouldn't be making money off her this way.  I have to say it was interesting to hear these things from an inmate's perspective after all the years of listening to my Dad's accounts.  Shirley gave me a partial listing of items the commissary carries and their "inflated" prices.  A pair of underwear is $2.65, a T-shirt is $3.00, socks are $1.75, chips are $.50, and baby powder is $1.45.  When you are booked into the jail, all your possessions are confiscated, including your underwear and you are issued a jumpsuit, shower sandal, a towel and washcloth, very basic hygiene items, a mattress and sheets.  If you come in with no money, and have no one to bring money for your commissary account, then you have nothing else, including underwear.  She pointed out that this makes it very difficult for the female inmates when they get their "administration."  I know from Dad's perspective that they have discontinued their more liberal practice of allowing inmates to receive many other kinds of personal items from the outside because of security issues.  The list has now been shortened to include only prepackaged underwear and socks for the first fifteen days of confinement.  The only other item permitted is a small hand-held radio with tiny earphones.  This is the direct result of items being brought for inmates in which some attempt had been made to conceal contraband such as marijuana sewn into the hem of underwear.  This not only poses a problem for security but also ties up the time of the limited staff with detailed examinations of all the items.  I did not share this knowledge with Shirley.   I'm sure it's not unknown to her anyway.
     She also complained about the rule prohibiting female trustees.  Trustees have privileges not afforded to the general population.  They work, generally unsupervised, in most areas of the jail and so are seen as having more freedom.  They clean, help cook and serve meals, and work in the laundry.  She said she didn't want a man "washing her drawers."  When asked why no females were allowed to be designated as trustees, Shirley said it was because they "didn't want no little trustees running around the jail."
     During our interview she gave me a listing of the deputies she likes who are currently working at the jail and then said she knew I'd want to hear what she thought of T.J. (that's how my Dad is known there).  I nodded my head and she said "she had been knowing him since 1989 when she first came there and he was a lieutenant.  Now, T.J. is a good man and tries to understand but he's got what you might call a harsh voice (I did notice him use this his loud, no-nonsense tone out there) and he won't take somebody's circumstances and help them."  By this, she meant bending the rules and she's right.  He never bends the rules!
     I did not take my eyes off her to glance at my watch during our time together.  The experience was too intense to even think of how many of our few precious minutes were left.  However, at his point, I knew I would be kicked out soon so asked her about her future plans.  She began by telling me her dream, a plan that begins with securing a four-bedroom house so she, her husband, her youngest son, and her chronically ill mother can live together.  Her oldest son is 21 and leaves for college on August 21.  She and I are the same age and my daughter is only 11 years old as of today.  I can't imagine myself with a 21 year old.  She will get a job and seems to have been employed at many places in the past.  She's been in food service, can run any kind of machine and is a good "chicken cutter."  She also intends to "slack up" on her drinking because that's when she gets into trouble.  She had been out for six months prior to this arrest and so I asked her how this long  history of arrests affects her each time when she is released.  She admitted it was hard because she often lost her car and place to live, as well as her job, during detainment.  She's committed to making it work this time and has been trying to see the good of being arrested on this charge. She says she's using her jail time to "get right with God" and is reading her Bible and praying a lot.  I believe I would be too under these circumstances!  I don't think she said these things just to attract my sympathy because I didn't make any mention of God prior to her statements.  Understandably, all that unoccupied time would cause you to want to change your life and many people turn to God for that miraculous change.  I wouldn't make any predictions on how long this change of heart would last but I do believe it's genuine for the present.
     While we were still deep in conversation, my door was opened from the outside and the deputy announced my time was up and that T.J. was waiting for me.  Shirley and I said our hurried good-byes and I left my cubicle for fresher air.  She left to return to her cell.  My Dad then guided me toward Intake to begin my tour of the jail.
     As we walked to our destination, groups of inmates would pass, in their coveralls.  Every time after they had gone by us, I would find myself automatically backed up against the wall in a protective gesture.  As a "new face," I was clearly of interest to them.  I was way out of my comfort zone from this point on.
     Intake is the area where all new arrestees are first taken.  They are electronically fingerprinted and their personal information is recorded.  Here is where they are given every chance to bond out of the system before going further.  They are allowed unlimited phone calls, not just the one call as portrayed on television cop shows.  The average number coming into this area each day is between 50 and 75 with the most part leaving before seeing the inside of a cell.  There were three men being detained here on this Tuesday afternoon.  As mentioned earlier, bad checks are the most prevalent reason for being arrested in Clarke County.  The lowest amount of a bad check that was prosecuted in our county was pursued by a local business.  The check was for $1.29 and the merchant paid $25 for court costs.
     No weapons are allowed in the jail so everyone is unarmed.  During the booking procedure in Intake, the prisoners are frisked and watched carefully because most suicide attempts in the institution occur during the first two hours after arrest.  If the person is unable or ineligible to bond or bail out then they are moved on to Classification.  Here they are assessed for risk factors, both to themselves and others and as well as from others.  For instance, inmates with a history of violence either by the nature of the crime committed or perhaps related to a prior jail offense will be given the status of "violent" and issued orange coveralls.  "Nonviolent" inmates get blue coveralls.  Someone with a gang or supremacy group affiliation, a mental illness, or being charged with an assault charge against a child might have to go into segregation for protection.  This is a simplistic version.  There are many classifications due to a variety of reasons.
     After being assigned, inmates are relieved of all personal items and taken to the showers for a body search and delousing.  They are then issued the standard items listed earlier and escorted to an assigned cell.
     We went to the nonviolent women's wing first in our tour of the inmates' areas.  There are four stainless steel bunks, one toilet and a tiny built-in table and seats in each cell.  Each inmate is allowed a few books, a Bible of their choice, and the issued items.  These inmates are unrestricted meaning that they can visit the other cells on their wing at any time.  We were separated from them by a wall with bars so that they had cells and a hallway while we had our own "secure" hallway.  There was a television for their use in our hallway as well as two telephones on portable stands.  The inmates have to reach through bars to use them.  At this lowest level of security there is still no privacy.  The toilet is in the middle of each cell facing the hallway and the shower has no curtain.  Dad did yell, "Man on the hall" (in his harsh voice) before we entered as a courtesy to the confined women.  After observing and being observed here, we proceeded to the most minimally secured male inmates.
 These men are housed in one of the newer parts of the facility in what is referred to as a "podular" arrangement.  There are four living pods, each with beds, tables, and a television arranged around a control tower.  Each pod can house 25 or 30 men and all four are supervised from the tower.  Since women as well as men are assigned to this tower, there is a minimal privacy screen in front of the toilet area.  Upon entrance, we became the instant focus of all housed there.  For that moment, I was the one on display rather than the inmates behind the security walls.  I listened as Dad explained the set-up but I was more than ready to exit this area and go to the next.  Some of the men in this area were carrying on conversations with other inmates while occupying their hands inside their jumpsuits.  They made no effort to cease this activity in my presence.  Why should they?  It's part of their daily life there but I was mortified.
     The Clarke County Jail boasts a modern infirmary and several hospital-like confinement rooms.  Nurses are staffed 24 hours a day and an inmate can request service at any time.  If an inmate has money in their commissary account, they pay a $5 fee for this service no matter if it involves medication, education, or further service.  The indigent pay nothing.  A doctor, dentist and mental health worker make weekly visits and inmates are taken to Athens Regional Medical Center in case of an emergency.  Two of the on-site hospital rooms are on positive pressure air systems meaning that fresh air is supplied from the outside and all air is filtered outside from those rooms.  They are employed when a contagious or possibly contagious person awaiting diagnosis is incarcerated in the jail, such as in case of tuberculosis.
     We left the infirmary area and made our way back to the visitation room where I first arrived.  I was introduced properly this time and was rewarded with the deputies smiles and "human sides."  The female deputy who frisked me jokingly remarked that she could have found somebody "good" to frisk me had she known I was T.J.'s daughter.  I talked with them briefly and then stepped out to have my first breath of free, fresh air in two hours.
     On the drive home, I was filled with thoughts and questions about my experience.  It was consuming and overwhelming to someone like me who has never been arrested or even been out to the jail to visit someone before.  From my first experience in the waiting room where the visitors were willing to just wait, to the tour of the facilities where all the inmates I saw were doing nothing except talking, I was struck by the enormous waste of time occurring.  Almost every minute of my day is filled with many things such as interacting with my loved ones, going to class, completing assignments, running errands, taking care of household chores, working in my yard and garden or even just reading the paper.  The thought ran through my head that you can not even read the newspaper in jail.  It's one of my personal little pleasures on the weekends.  There was a lot of talking going on in there but apparently little else.  Inmates have access to a regular library and a legal library and are given the opportunity to work on their GED.  I saw no one reading in the whole facility.  Dad pointed out that the three largest jail issues are noise, boredom, and privacy.  Most of these inmates are awaiting sentencing, and as such, cannot be required under law to perform work.  As a result, they do nothing.  This was an unexpected part of my trip to witness such idleness.
     It would be extremely hard for me to work in an institution such as this.  I am a very trusting person and it would be disconcerting to spend eight or nine hours a day where distrust and suspicion must come first.  Being incarcerated in such a place would be almost unthinkable due to the boredom, privacy and noise issues.  The only colors within are blue and orange in contrast to the stark gray of walls, floors and ceilings.  The noise continually rebounds off the hard, unyielding surfaces.  I am also frightened at the prospect of having only one allotted hour per day, weather permitting, to be outdoors.
     Shirley will be with me for a long time.  I have no way of ascertaining which of her words spoke the truth and which ones didn't.  She was as open as she could be with a stranger and for that I am grateful.  She truly was under no obligation to meet with me.  Because of her humanity and shared life experiences, I have some small idea of the impact this lifestyle has on a real person and their family situation.  I hope I can retain this feeling of empathy when I begin working in a school situation and have contact with children of incarcerated parents.
     I drove away from the jail processing my experience and actually wondering how I could feel this sense of connectedness to someone so different from me in so many ways.  However, we all have dreams and, to some extent, are all struggling to attain them.  We all yearn for acceptance and for our freedom.  My last few moments with Shirley stand out to me the most.  As I was being instructed to exit my cubicle, I thanked her for her time and honesty and told her I would keep her in my prayers.  As a final gesture, I placed the palm of my White hand on the glass partition between this relative stranger and me.  In return, she placed her Black palm on the other side.  Our hands are the same size.