Everything that happens inside is noticed by other inmates. If you are upset and are crying because Mom died, they may just cut you some slack.

I say maybe,

On the other hand, if you are crying because you are scared?

You are going swimming in the shark tank with a raw pork chop tied around your neck.

Weakness inside is often fatal.

I served 18 years straight. I'd say somewhere around the 7 or 8 year mark my view of the situation changed. It was no longer prison, it was just my life. Nothing ever changed. Every day was the same. You get in a never changing routine and before you know it 5 years go by. Then 10, then 15. The real world becomes a fantasy. Something you see on TV, or pictures in magazine, but it's no longer real. One day you look in the mirror and your hair is receding, and it's turning gray, in your mind your socially stunted and in a lot of ways child like, but you're old. I went in at 18 and came out a 37 year old man who didn't know how to do anything. I'd never used a cell phone or computer. I'd never driven a car or filed my taxes. The world was too big, too loud, too fast. My second day out my sister took me to Walmart and I had a panic attack and had to go outside and sit in the car by myself. I could make a tattoo gun out of an electric razor, boil water with an extension cord, and sits for months on end by myself in a room with a sink, concrete bunk and metal toilet without breaking a sweat. But I couldn't hold a job, operate any electronics without help, or go to Walmart without freaking the fuck out. I didn't know how to cook, or how to pay a bill. I sat home by myself for months, afraid to go anywhere or talk to people. A big part of me wanted to be back in prison where things made sense, where I thrived.

I've been out for over 5 years now, and while I've learned to do a lot of things, it's still not easy. I dream alot of being in prison. Where's it's easy. No responsibility. And believe it or not, less stress and anxiety. I've been in institutions my whole life, since I was a little kid. Foster homes, group homes, treatment centers, juvenile detentions. It's what I know. It's where I'm comfortable. I don't know if that will ever change.

I hope this answers your question.

I was about 6 years into a 10.5 year minimum.

I was transferred to SCI-Huntington in Pennsylvania. This was a very old penitentiary, surrounded by a wall with blocks that were 3 and 4 tiers high. Even the top tiers only had a normal size handrail; needless to say, many people attempted to fly with some ugly results.

This prison was known as the last stop in PA. If you broke the rules in other prisons or happened to find yourself fighting too often, chances are you ended up in Huntington. I could write an entire novel about the characters that I came to know here, but I will just try and answer this question.

Living on my block, on the bottom tier (this happened to be my tier) was a baby-faced kid. I mean he looked like he was not even old enough to be with us.

I looked at his prison number (which is printed on all of our clothes). This is the quickest way to see if a guy is a “new fish” or if he has an “old” number. This very young-looking kid had the same letters that I had, which meant he came into the state system around the same year I did, so about 6 or 7 years ago. Turns out he was certified as an adult at 14 years old. This happens pretty often these days but, back in the ’90s , this was a rare event.

I noticed right away that none of the “chicken hawks” seemed to be pushing up on this kid. Chicken hawks are sexual predators who try to befriend young kids in the penitentiary — they pretend they are looking out for the kid but, in reality they are trying to turn the kid into a “punk.” They try and move the kid into their cell and, from there, I am sure you can use your imagination.

Back to the story, as I said he was not being bothered by these guys, and he was not really affiliated with anyone. In Pennsylvania, it is not mandatory to “pick” a car to ride with; I mean it pays to stick with your own kind and you will usually fall in with a “group” but people can and do serve sentences without joining a “gang.” It can lead you into some difficult situations if you don’t have people to watch your back but that is another story.

My first few months were spent sorting out my role in the place. I am one of those guys who likes to remain under the radar. I guess I have earned “respect” because of some things I had done in the other institution, but my “hobby” was watching other people, I have always been fascinated by human behavior, so I never forgot about this kid — in fact, we played softball on the same team.

I began to ask for information about the kid. Even though I was in a position to just pull the kid aside and ask him directly, it is always better to find out background some other way, then you don’t put the person in an awkward situation. Does he feel that he can just tell me the truth? Or will he feel like he has to put on a facade? etc.

Anyway, the kid was always looking for pets. He found a little baby rabbit in the yard where we played softball. He kept it in his cell for over a month until a guard saw it during cell searches. This was like the nicest kid, he never had a bad word to say about anybody. He always tried to make people happy.

Now, by this time, I know the kid is doing 30–60 years. As I said, to receive a sentence like this at 14 is a rare thing back then. OK, he killed someone, no big deal. One out of four guys in the jail were lifers. Many killers here.

Then I heard his sister was 12 years old and mentally retarded. Two high-school kids from his town gave his 12-year-old sister alcohol and raped her and left her naked on the street. She told him who they were. He did not say a word to his family. He took off with a shot-gun on his bicycle. He found the two guys playing pinball at the corner store. He walked in and made them kneel on the floor. He put the gun in the first kid’s mouth and pulled the trigger. The second kid just passed out from fear or stress and he shot him too!

As always, I never keep track of the characters I knew. I will bet money that if or when they parole this kid, he will never commit another crime, as long as no one ever hurts his family again.

1. You’ll be tested physically and psychologically more than you ever have in your life;
2. You’ll be stripped of your dignity and learn the power of humiliation;
3. You’ll learn that allies become enemies;
4. You’ll redefine the meaning of the word hunger;
5. You’ll witness the pernicious nature of the human condition through stabbings, death or suicide;
6. You’ll re-read the same book multiple times but never complain;
7. You’ll have a chance to snitch BUT regardless of the threats, cell tosses - stay quiet with eyes down;
8. You’ll utilize the glass in an open room as a mirror to always know who’s behind you;
9. Everything you value will be taken from you at one point or another;
10. You’ll see things that will be etched in your memory for the rest of your life.

I was awakened by the CO one night and was given the news that my mother had passed. It was exactly one year to the day that I had caught my time. I went back to my pod and tried to control my emotions. The other inmates happened to overhear my cries from the shower/bathroom stall. The next morning, one of my fellow inmates handed me a homemade condolence card signed by every single inmate in my pod and one by one several even broke the rules and came info my pod to offer me a kind word of comfort. So, to answer your question, there are good people everywhere and it matters little that they live in a prison cell or in a homeless shelter! Those men have no idea what their little act of kindness done for this hardened convict!!!

If sent to a prison, how do you join a group or “gang” without any prior involvement? How do you join and what do you have to do for them to accept you and keep you under protection as “one of them”?

Good grief, so much misinformation in this question that I’m not sure where to start.

First off, you do not need to join a gang if you go to prison, in fact, I would strongly advise against joining a gang once you go to prison unless you want this to be a significant part of your life.

Secondly, being in a gang will not keep you out of a fight, far from it. You will be required to assist in gang-related confrontations, which can (and will) keep you in prison longer than your original stint.

It’s not hard to go thru prison and not get into a fight.

• Let the other idiots engage in their foolish activities.
• Be smart and keep to yourself. Your rack is the safest place you can be inside the barracks.
• Avoid the day-room, that’s where 80% of all confrontations start.
• Get out of the barracks/cell as often as you can.
• Try to get a decent job that keeps you out of the barracks.
• Read lots and lots of books at your rack.
• Keep you head down and ignore all the illegal shit that’s going on around you.
• Keep your circle of people you interact with to a minimum.
• Keep a low profile and do not draw attention to yourself.
• Do not get too friendly with the guards.

Now if you’re dead set on joining a gang, there are some things you need to understand.

There are several different gangs, with the gangs separated by race. There are no interracial gangs in prison that I am aware of. Investigate each group and let them know that you are interested in joining. They will gladly fill you in on their ‘rules.’

once you have decided on that gang you want to join, you will have to prove that you’re tough enough to be in their gang and will have to do something to convince them that you are worthy of your patch (tattoo).

Once you have proven your self and gotten your patch, you’re in. The fun has just begun. Now you are a known gang member, this will go in your prison file (jacket). The guards will treat you differently, as well as other inmates. You will be required to continue to help the gang by beating up anyone they deem needs a beating.

Once you join a gang, that association does not end once you leave the prison. You will be expected to continue your criminal lifestyle once you get out. Leaving a gang is not easy to do. You have to get permission and have them cover up your patch. The only people I saw leaving a gang were older members who were tired of the game and wanted out to start a life away from prison. I never saw a young member leave.

If you do not want this to become a way of life, I would STRONGLY advise against joining a gang. You will end up in prison longer than you would have been and will probably end up back in prison once you get released.

When I was in, a guy got randomly called to the chapel. That's never good. Anyhow, he came back and one of his buddies asked why he got called to the chapel. He said he just found out his dad died and he started crying. I knew this particular guy somewhat well. We talked in passing and were cool. I walked up, put my hand on his shoulder and gave him my condolences.

He cried for a couple minutes and that was the last time he cried or mentioned his father passing. Nobody messed with him or gave him any shit for crying.

Had he sat around crying for days someone would have told him to man up and stop crying.

Depending on the area you're in it can be vastly different. There are a few things that will be constant.

You'll be scared. I don't care how tough you are. In an unfamiliar place where all sights, smells and sounds around are new, not sure of your pending future.

You will change. Your diet, perspective, attitude and habits will be severely altered. Not always for the worst. You will have all the time in the world to work out, read, cry and regret every decision you ever made.

You'll adapt quickly. That is, if you aren't a little… you know.

Don't complain. Be respectful but don't make too many friendly gestures; be cool. Pray. Join a class and get a job.

DO NOT BORROW ANYTHING! you'll meet truly friendly people and you'll meet truly evil people that have nothing but time. “Don't take the snickers bar on your bunk”

Edit - most upvotes I've had and willing to add more info

I can only speak to low-to-medium security California prisons, but here’s what I know.

Firstly, unless you’ve got a sentence of 10 years or more, you’re probably going to end up in a Level I or II prison, like I did. First you’ll go to Reception, which has inmates of all different security levels, but it’s highly regulated in Reception, and you’re in your cell 23 hours a day, so you’re not likely to have the opportunity to get into too much trouble, especially if you’re new and don’t have some sort of problem already with somebody you meet there.

Once you get out of reception and are “endorsed” to a particular prison, you’ll get transferred there. For many, this will probably be a level II joint (meaning the majority of inmates there are probably in for drug crimes and for middle-class larceny). Some might get endorsed directly to a “Ranch” (a level I facility); if not, you’ll probably have an opportunity to go to one once your ‘points’ go down a bit (during Classification, which is one of the things that they’re doing to you while you’re stuck in Reception, you find out how many points you have, based on a variety of factors including the number of years you have to serve, the nature of your crime, your priors, whether you’ve been to prison before, whether you have any violence in your background, gang affiliation, etc.).

The thing to remember is, at a level I or II prison, you’re probably not going to encounter anything like prison rape or serious riots where people are getting stabbed left and right. To give you an idea of the level of seriousness we’re talking about here, at most level I facilities, you can just walk away from the prison if you want to (of course, if you do that you’ll never set foot on another level I yard) and a level II is just the next more serious yard; so it’s not too hardcore.

That being said, people do get beat up, or occasionally stabbed. Usually this is for one of a couple of reasons: 1. An argument over a punk (homosexual inmate). 2. Drug or gambling debts. 3. Blatently and repeatedly breaking the ‘rules’ of your group (mostly race-based) such that a bunch of them, or just one who has been ‘assigned’ to do it, kick the shit out of you and force you to ‘roll it up’ (either to PC — Protective Custody — or to another dorm/yard/cell). Sometimes if you take your ass-whupping with equanimity, and promise to change your wicked ways, you can stay on the yard, and even earn a bit of respect in the process. Once you go PC, you’re basically that way forever, no matter what prison you go to from then on. Word has a way of getting around, and inmates take an active interest in researching your “jacket”. If you’re in for something like child molestation, you might as well just go directly to PC.

The rules vary among different groups. For white, non-gang affiliated inmates, they’re basically: 1. Don’t snitch. 2. You can have a certain amount of association with other races, but you shouldn’t a) get into debt to a member of another race; b) go to them for help of any kind before asking your own race; c) side with a member of another race against a member of your own race; d) get involved in, including just open your mouth about, some internal issue that another race is having that has nothing to do with you or your race — just let them deal with it and don’t offer your opinion. If the member of the other race is black, then there is also: e) don’t “eat after” them, which means accept any sort of non-sealed food item from them; f) don’t “smoke after” them (you can give a black the second half of your smoke, but you can’t take the second half of his… this rule, by extension, becomes “don’t ‘snipe hunt’ — that is, pick up cigarette butts from the ground — because you don’t know what race has smoked them); g) don’t play cards or board games with them unless it’s some sort of ‘tournament’ that involves everybody and has been agreed upon by the spokespeople for the various races. 3. Association / interaction with guards should be kept to a minimum (this, in some prisons / among some groups leads to other rules such as ‘don’t approach a guard to speak to him unless you have another inmate with you (to allay suspicion that you might be giving the guard information)). There’s also, to a greater or lesser degree, usually some sort of 4. You have to work out at least somewhat, so your race isn’t made up of all the weaklings on the yard (you’re generally excused from this one if you have some sort of disability or are over 50) and 5. Shower every day / keep your area neat.

These rules have some flexibility, depending on the particular prison, etc. There are some exceptions; for example, from what I’ve seen you can claim “Christian” if you want, and sit at a table with other Christians of various races, and eat after them or whatever… but then most other inmates will avoid you, treating your group as if it’s its own ‘race’… and they’ll be watching to see how sincere you are about it, if they suspect that you’re just doing that to get out of having to follow the rules, you’re going to have a problem. And no backsliding, either… once you go that route, you can’t just change your mind later.

Also, sometimes you can get around the rules, if you have something that other people want. I was always a clerk in prison, and clerks have access to all sorts of stuff that others don’t: for instance, when I was the Watch Commander’s clerk, I could ‘lose’ a write-up if it were important enough (you were going to lose your visitation rights just before a conjugal visit, for instance). And at other clerk positions, there was always some other ‘perq’ that I could translate into, “No, I’m not going to work out, I’m reading. Next time you need that [whatever], come talk to me, until then leave me alone.” (Or whatever.)

Beyond that, if you avoid prison politics as much as possible, you shouldn’t have too much of a problem. Be respectful to everyone in the way you speak to them, and don’t be an idiot, and you should be fine.

(By the way, please do not infer from this that I in any way endorse or support the sort of racist rules and politics that go on in prison. I didn’t make the rules, but not following them isn’t much of an option there.)

My ex was a probation officer. Her job was to deal with serious sex offenders who'd just been released from long sentences.

While being away these guys had lost their home, their job, their partner etc so had nothing to come out to. Hence they were accommodated in hostels.

Ideally she'd like to integrate these people in to society but the assumption was given the chance they'd return to their old ways. So the priority was to prevent them doing so, they weren't allowed mobile phones or internet access for obvious reasons.

She came home one night and said she'd spoken to a guy who said he'd been out banging on doors trying to find a job but everyone he spoke to asked for his number so they could call him back. Obviously he didn't have a number so he was stuck. She'd been doing the job for a long time and she can spot liars from 100 yards, she said 100% this guy is legit he actually wants to turn his life around.

I took an old mobile phone out of my drawer stuck some credit on it and said give him this. She knew she shouldn't do this but she believed in the guy. She gave him the phone and 2 days later he came to see her and said I've found a job.

A guy actually finding a job was so unusual she was asked for an explanation. She said my partner loaned him a phone which enabled him to get a job.

She was disciplined for breaking the rules.

It all has to do with how you carry yourself. Problems arise when people act hard and tough when they are not. The thing is that some one WILL ''check your nuts'' if you portray yourself to be something you're not. And if you're running around with your chest out, that is just asking for trouble, especially if you ain't tough. Think of it like this: you claim to be a prize fighter, so you dedcide to step in the ring with Iron Mike. Now what do you think will happen. Next thing that happens (after you're exposed as being weak, but like to act tough) is that the vultures come out to pick away at what remains of your body and soul. Acting tough is literally like challenging anyone and everyone to a fight, so you better be able to stand up. That doesn't mean you have to win, but you will have to fight back if you are to gain respect. I know plenty of dudes that aren't good fighters, but because they physically stick up for themselves and won't be ''bullied'' dudes leave them alone. People look for easy prey. Some people don't fight back. This only leads to continued predatory acts being perpetrated against you by certain types of people. But the toughest dudes are generally extremely humble, quiet individuals who don't go looking for problems (watch out for the quiet guys). Quiet does not equate with weakness, yet people often make that mistake. Also, it is important for me to note that there are LOTS of non-violent, ''weak'' people in prison who do just fine. The prison population is full of regular people that made some bad choices in their lifes. You're in prison for breaking a law (usually non-violent ones), which doesn't make you some automatic bad-ass, so don't act like one. Despite what most might think: criminals often have great characters and despise all fakeness. So, unless you are a snitch, child molester, or ''cell theif'', then you shouldn't have any worries. Stay quiet, mind your business, and observe your surroundings BEFORE you start interacting with people. That way you see how things work and how predatory situations develop. If you aren't a bad dude, but you're not tough, there may even be people who stick up for you in those situations. If you're a good dude, then you should go to someone you trust (relatively), or at least know (in some way), and explain the situation to them to see what you should do, or if they can help. Sometimes all it takes is a conversation to settle things peacefully. But, whatever you do, don't ever pay any ''rent'' (extortion), unless you feel like paying more and more. This will only open the door to worsening occurances. I should also explain to you that I'm a ''convict'', which simply means that I don't go to the police/guards for help. That said, if you ARE a child molester, etc: you're on your own...

For further information on this issue see: Frank Negus Staples's answer to How does a physically weak guy that can't stand his own survive in a prison?

Prison does not have to be hard. Regardless of your physical or mental stature, there are a few rules that you must follow in order to expect to survive prison unscathed. Bear in mind that these rules have nothing to do with the rules of whatever facility you're incarcerated in. These rules are convict rules, and are standard for every prison yard in the US.

1. Do not tell on anybody, for any reason.
2. Do not fraternize with convicts of another race than your own. If you do, understand that you are putting your life or your health at risk.
3. Mind your own business at all times, and use 100% of your common sense at all times.
4. There will be seating arrangements divided by race in the chow hall. Learn this and remember it.
5. Wash your hands before exiting the bathroom every time you use it. And maintain good hygiene in general. I have seen people beaten severely for not showering daily.
6. Defer to, and show respect to the older convicts. You do not get to survive prison to old age by accident.
7. There may be times when you are directly challenged by another convict. If this happens, you must be prepared to respond physically. Do not hesitate. Even if you are beaten, it is okay because you fought. (This is what is known as being “stand up.”) If you try to talk your way out of it or refuse to fight, your suffering will be legendary afterward.
8. Do not gamble, borrow, or use drugs that you get “up front” with the promise that you'll pay later without knowing beyond doubt that you'll be able to pay.
9. If you “PC up” (ask a guard to place you in protective custody) bear in mind that anywhere you go from that point forward, somebody will be there who remembers that you PC’d up. This will get you severely beaten or killed, eventually. Don't do it.

Following those rules will ensure that you make it to the other end of your sentence intact. Combined with a good exercise routine, and a lot of reading, you'll be a better person when you are released than you were when you got there. Everyone is “weaker” than someone else, at some point. Don't worry about it, just follow those rules, and you'll be okay.

Edit: These guidelines are indicative of prisons in the Western / Southwestern US in the late 1990s and early 2000s. I welcome all comments from convicts who were released more recently than 2006 who have information that runs contrary to what I’ve written above. My goal here is to be right, more so than to seem right.

I did some time in NYS after I got out of the Army. There was a white kid who wanted to be cool with the Brothas. He was getting extorted though, it's called plastic extortion. They will be your friend while you're giving them things from your locker for free. When you stop, they will not be so nice about it. So the kid did that at some point. The 5 friends got him in the shower room, and gang raped him. Those screams I can still hear to this day…

Was that the most brutal thing? Yeah that someone else did to another person.

The most brutal thing someone did to themselves though. Hearing the cries of a broken man, a man that has lost his last lifeline to the world. When that realization hits after his mother/brother/etc. dies while he's locked up, and he's not allowed to go to her/his funeral. When he realizes how badly he fucked up his life. When his kids disown him, or suffer the same fate and he can only think “what if I was there?!” “I could've changed this outcome!!!” When he has no one left, and he cries himself to sleep… or he doesn't sleep, he spends all night crying.. trading wailing for sobs, and then quiet crying, back to wailing… for 8 hours. I still hear his crying too…

I met a kid once on a transfer, talking about how much time he had left “oh 37 and a half", I asked him “months?” Him: " lol naa bro years…it's nothing though I be out in a hot minute"

He still had hope… he'd only been in for 2 and a half years… his girlfriend was still visiting, his mom still alive. I wonder how he feels now, 20 years in, 17 left… I wonder how much hope is still in his eyes. Did the system break that man too?

The most brutal thing comes in many forms in the prison system, what's brutal to you is life to many.

I was always respectful to the inmates I had in the county jail. I found that if I wanted them to respect me I had to show the same to them. Basically, you treat people like you want to be treated.

I always knew that, if I ever got into a physical fight with an inmate I would have enough inmates to back me up and keep me from getting my ass handed to me.

It was probably three years after I stopped working in the jail and became a patrol deputy that I wouldn’t have former inmates call to me while I was out shopping.

“Hey, Boss!!” (You always know where you met someone when they call you “boss”.) My wife would walk the kids in another direction, always keeping an eye on me to make sure I was okay. “I saw you here, and I wanted to say hello, and to thank you for taking such good care of me when I wasn’t such a nice person. I’m married, got a little girl and another kid on the way. And most importantly, I’m off that shit that put me behind bars to begin with! And I just wanted to say thanks for being a decent guy to me!”!

It was always rewarding to know that I’d made a difference in someone’s life when they really needed someone to give them a break. I never put up with being abused, and I never let any of them lay a hand on me without circumstances being returned. But again, it just came down to treating folks (who were often not exactly at their best) the way I wanted to be treated.

It’s actually the same thing I did for folks when I was a patrol deputy. And when I was an investigator. And when I was a commander of the narcotics task force. And very certainly when I was teaching police cadets in Iraq. After 34 years as an active law enforcement officer I can look at myself in the mirror and know that I’ve done folks right.

Day 1

Don't act like your terrified even if you are. The best way to not act terrified is not to pick a fight (that is, however, the best way to get your ass kicked) but to stay quiet and keep to yourself.

1. Be very suspicious of the first people who approach you. Be careful about taking anything other than hygene products (everyone has an interest in you not stinking) unless it's your bunkie/cellmate, you know the person from the streets, have friends/associates in common, or come from the same area.
2. Stay as far away from the prison staff as possible until people have a chance to see who you are and what you are about.
3. Stay reserved and aloof as much as possible like a Clint Eastwood western. (9/10 People who go around introducing themselves or bragging about this or that are simply telegraphing their fear and insecurity). Be cordial with everyone but do not tolerate being disrespected. Firmly saying “Don't disrespect me” will diffuse most situations where it seems like they are making fun you.
4. Stay out of areas where it would be possible to get jumped without people noticing and NEVER leave your stuff unattended.

There was 4 bunk beds and 14 cell mates.

In my cell.

Fuck that.

Dudes were snorting shit, losing their minds, unpredictable behavior, I just sat in the corner reading, they were freaking out.

Never crossed my mind to “snitch” they overdose or something. I don't know what the hell happened.

I was reading the Bible.

Lack of privacy sucked.

The food sucked until you start getting hungry then that shit starts looking guud.

They don't give enough toilet paper.

We had this sink that constantly leaked water and made this dripping sound for some reason it drove me crazy at night.

It was super hot.

It sucked.

I was incarcerated from the age of 15 until I was 27 and did my time in two states, California and Texas. I started as a juvenile in CYA and finished up as an adult in TDC.

Movies and TV shows get some of it right but most of it wrong. Their first concern is ratings or box office receipts and accuracy is not really at the top of their list of requirements. Take OZ for example; I watched a few episodes and it honestly pissed me off. Two men making out? Seriously? Maybe that shit happens on the Punk Block but that shit wouldn’t fly for a second on any normal cell block or dorm with Convicts on it. You know, convicts who have defended their manhood and demonstrated heart, they’re not gonna kiss a punk after fucking him! Or any other time, for that matter!

I’ve told the story here about the snitch that they moved into my cell in an effort to have him killed or just really fucked up. I caught a lot of shit here too about being honest and telling exactly how these punks are treated. At the time this went down I was doing great and keeping my shit together and trying to demonstrate to the parole board that I deserved to be set free. And they moved this guy into my cell while I was at work. That pissed me off but I didn’t hurt the guy like they thought I would and hell, he thought his days were numbered too. My buddies wanted to drag him down the long hall to the laundry and leave him for dead. I eventually demonstrated to them how this could work top our advantage. We just needed to be sure and keep our business a secret from him and we did. To his credit, he didn’t ask either. Truth of the matter is, I may have saved his life. You see, I wasn’t a very stable person back then and I was also a trained boxer so I had established myself long ago as man. So, as long as he lived in my house nobody was going to fuck with him. This sounds harsh to people who haven’t lived through this shit but: He became my property. He did exactly what was expected of him, he didn’t complain and didn’t snitch. He performed any service for anybody I told him to and in return he was safe anywhere in the unit that he went. I made it clear that we were never going to be friends but he had rent to pay for the protection that living in my house afforded him. But nobody ever kissed the guy.

American History X was a good movie but they missed the mark too. But hell, they wanted to send a message about racism and how it’s a detriment to society, and it is. But prison and the free world are as different as night and day. And he wouldn’t have just been raped by one man in the shower after betraying his race, he would have been raped by every man there and then killed, as an example.

Anyway, the big screen and TV series are never worried about accuracy. Some times they go too far and sometimes they don’t go far enough. The only way to truly experience prison life and the insanity of it all is to spend a few years in one. And every single person who has ever done time is the same after they walk out those gates.

I entered prison at age 57. If you'd told me what I was going to see and experience, I would have said, “"Not in our country. We don't treat people that way. “ I was wrong; we do.

Prison is designed to humiliate and diminish you in myriad ways. It strips you of your humanity, reducing you to a number. It reduces your self-worth and creates a feeling of helplessness that is very hard to rebuild.

I met women who had been abused beyond belief. When I heard their stories, I could hardly believe them. Rape and incest victims. Sold into sexual slavery. Pimps and prostitution. And they become addicts and society shrugs their collective shoulders and turns their backs.

In prison we were constantly told “Nobody cares about you.” It was our mantra. Nobody cares. Nobody cares. Nobody cares.

So we felt invisible, hopeless, useless, unwanted and, like the Indian caste system, untouchable.

Then in 2 years or twenty, we are released and expected to re-enter society, a completely restored human being, ready to be a contributing member of society.

I’d like to say we are totally prepared but we aren’t. Thus the “broken” system works perfectly. It's not broken at all; it provides job security for thousands of prison workers.

One inmate said going to prison was like dying with your eyes open. Best description I've ever heard.

Update: Since so many of you commented on how hard it was to be convicted or whether inmates deserved punishment, I want to share this story about Gregory Taylor. It’s one of the saddest, most wasteful and cruel stories I’ve heard of. His 13 years in prison cost the CA tax payer over ½ million $$. Because he broke into a church kitchen because he was hungry. It’s easier to get to prison than we are told. Three Strikes and He's Out (of Prison)! Homeless Man Spent 13 Years Behind Bars After Trying to Break into Church Kitchen

I knew women who were addicted to pain killers and had forged prescriptions. While I was there I saw the same kind of women on Oprah or Dr. Phil for doing the same thing. They went to rehab. My friends went to prison. One of the problems with our system is, it is not equitable nor fair. In America, you can have all the justice you can afford.

Thanks for all your thoughtful comments.

No. You know what happens when inmates riot and fight guards? The consequences are so steep the reasons would have to be well worth the chaos.

1. You're going on lock down, you're not leaving your cell or your dorm unless you're dying or being released.
2. You are going to be pepper balled or pepper sprayed and the whole block is gonna feel it. That shit doesn't just hover around the intended victim. No. That shit spreads the hell out into the entire room and gets everyone. You may even be beaten, tackled, shot with rubber bullets or sandbags and possibly tossed into isolation.
3. Nobody is getting commissary, Nobody is getting visits. Want to piss off an inmate? Do something to fuck with their commissary or visit.
4. You're stuck with the aftermath. There was a prison in Indiana where the inmates busted out all the windows during a riot. The prison left the windows busted out so they could all freeze their asses off in the winter and bake in the summer. They also kept everyone on the camp under lock down for a whole year. Controlled movement. No rec, no jobs, no church, no programs, no classes. In your cell or your dorm 24-7-365.

I went to prison for 4 years when I was 20. I met a man who, 29 years earlier, let a drunk man child out of his car, because he was sick of baby sitting him . He was a marine and the judge apparently thought he let down the uniform. Whatever.

This man, by all accounts, didn't committ murder, but when the man child he let out of his car stumbled in front of a semi -he was deemed responsible and given a 30 year setence.

This was a man trained in hand to hand combat and wasnt a “criminal”, so he had problems all around. He spent the first 10 years fighting inmates and guards alike.

Then he settled down.

He became a teacher’s aid and helped countless men obtain their GED.

I remember one instance where he was extremely happy. Standing behind another man. He waS SO HAPPY.. ear to ear smile . I said Danny, whats going on? He said, hes been helping this other inmate learn to read and write aND he was helping him write the first letter he ever wrote .. to his little girl back home. Danny was so happy to be apart of that. He was a GOOD DUDE.

Fast fowward. Danny sentence is ending. 30 years done. He's a free man. Fuck ya bro, ya going HOME!.

He made all his arrangements. His family came with his street clothes. Everything was all set. While we were going to miss this dude, we all were very excited for him. He was BEAMING.

The day came. He rolled up and like that - he was gone . Good for him.

About 2 months later.

He was back on the yard.

Apparently, 30 years prior, Danny had a half a joint in his pocket. Arizona (which has no statue of limitations) held onto this joint for 30 years. When he went to leave that day, they dressed this man out in his street clothes, processed him for release and marched him out the gate. To an awaiting sheriff whom immediately placed Danny under and arrest aND brought him back to Maricopa county jail to be booked for possession of Marijuana. He received an additional THREE YEARS. Smh.

To answer your question. The most terrifying thing I saw in prison, was that gate when I was walking out on my last day. Am I going to be picked up again on some petty minor bs??? Or am I going home?? Whoooooaaaaaaaa…

But…

I went home.

In closing …

Arizona is a fucked up prison state.

All of the choices….

The morning I was released my mom, sister, and niece picked me up and they took me to Shari’s for breakfast. I ordered steak and eggs for breakfast - simple, right! How do you want your steak - rare, medium, pink, well-done? How do you want your eggs - over-easy, over-medim, sunnyside-up, well-done? What kind of bread would you like for your toast - white, wheat, sourdough, all-grain? How would you like your toast toasted - light, medium, or dark? What would you like with your toast - butter, jam? If jam - strawberry, grape, raspberry, apple? I was totally overloaded! In prison, it’s what is on the food line, and that’s it - take it or leave it…

Before I was released, for months, I drooled over the supermarket ads! I was going eat this, and this, and this, and this!!! However, when I got into a supermarket I couldn’t figure out what to actually buy - there was so much stuff that you could buy that I couldn’t actually decide upon what to buy!!!

Prison is so limiting in your choices of action and experience! I spent twenty-three years, two months, and one day - who was counting, right! - and I have been out since October 29, 2010, and I am still overwhelmed by all of the choices that I have in action, experience, and consumerism…

Pontiac Bonneville 1973. Scan of Brochure for Model Year.

The Man Known as “King”

There was a man they called “King”, he had been in Jail since 1974 and in Prison just 8 or 9 months later . When he would watch movies he would talk about cars he drove, and one of them was a Pontiac Bonneville that he still loved, he was only 22 in 1974. One night while watching The Life of Pi, on a movie night, he started telling everyone he was going die in Prison, it was a hot July night, and since there is no A/C, a person has to get used to the Movie Room, because it is even hotter than the rest of the dorm. The chairs are from the early 1980s and they were not found anywhere nice even then. I told him this, and he was surprised. He did not know that decade, just like he did not know the decades than came after. All he remembered that night was the last movie he watched in a Movie Theater was Blazing Saddles, and when he left the theater the police arrested him right there in front of his mother. They had only gone to a movie to escape the pain of what the family was going through. He stated that it had been a bad idea and they barely made it through the movie. They were returning back to visit his brother in the Hospital. His brother had been accused of being a Black Panther, it appeared from how he narrated that it was most likely true, and been shot by the police supposedly in a pattern of escalating tensions. He lay in hospital bed fighting for his life. And now a Police officer had been shot and killed. King would soon be charged with it. He claimed he had nothing to do with it. But, they had witnesses. Not Police Officers but people that had been arrested for other crimes. Their credibility was in serious doubt. Two nights later King’s brother died. Not from normal causes, instead someone pulled the electric cord from his ventilator.

King stood no chance at trial, he had a People’s Defender, and he was fighting the Police Force. He would be sentenced to 25 years to life. The 25 years had long gone by, and he had been denied parole, since 2001. He had given up hope of getting out all together. He was going before the parole board again in two weeks, it was July 2013. Inmates told him to forget it and just not go. The Corrections Officer walked in at this time, and started playing lawyer he started to tell him to not get his hopes up. Well, I interrupted them, and told them “No man holds the key to paradise, and not any of these men here for sure, maybe you need a different approach.” There was tension, as I had interrupted the “real players”, I was just viewed as an academic man with just a small time remaining. In essence, I was not to interrupt them in this world. But they let it slide so many times, as I was their teacher in required subjects, and they felt I lived by different rules than them. This was my position and I was very lucky it remained so until I went home. So they were silent and then they asked me what I thought he should do?

I told them “He needs to tell the truth, and stop telling them he committed the crime.” They all were against it, as they said the Parole Board only looked favorably on people who took responsibility for their crimes. I told them there is no responsibility if you never committed it. In fact they should know why people take plea bargains and why people loose at trial. How is it possible the Parole Board does not understand it. They were right from a practical viewpoint, I knew it was like fighting the Spanish Inquisition, for even if you admitted to things you never did, they could still keep you in Prison. But, King had nothing to lose he had already been hit at the board 5 times. He had done everything they wanted and they still said he had no remorse and he was a threat to society.

So I looked at King’s case and then wrote a letter for him to read at the Parole Board. It was not a typical letter. I wrote, that it was time to tell the truth, and for them to consider how low the likelihood was that he actually had been the shooter. He had witnesses who placed him at home. He could not have even made it to the scene in time if he had a helicopter. And had he been the person, he would not have gotten away uninjured in all reality. The witnesses were all trying to escape their situations, and this was an opportunity given to them by the the Justice System so they spun stories to place King where they were told. All their stories conflicted as to what he was wearing and even how they were there. Nothing had been pointed out it seems, as he was too scared to even bring this up. I stated at the end that if after all this time he had been innocent than that truth must at least be considered.

Many in the dorm called this whole plan a sure way to make sure he would never be freed. Well, I did not have their experience. King somehow had faith that I was telling him the right thing to do, because all these years he wanted to tell his side of the story. His day came, and he read the letter. He came back and told me it went very badly. As they listened to him and then told him he had changed his story.

Three days letter as the dorm stood on attendance, he was called to the C.O.’s Desk and a letter was handed to King. He brought me the letter, before count was over. It was out of protocol but the C.O. just nodded his head. He sat down, and I opened his letter. I read it very carefully and slowly. And then finally I found what I was looking for, “Conditional Release Granted.” King looked at me expecting bad news, he stated “I knew it was a bad idea, but I became proud again, I felt like a man because of what you said, but I know now I never will go home!” I was silent, the whole dorm was listening. I paused, and then I raised my voice enough so they could all eavesdrop with ease. I stated “You felt like a man, or you feel like a man?, What exactly do you feel? It seems you have to decide very soon, because you really should before you leave here!” The reaction was instantaneous, he jumped and then sat back down and sat for nearly an hour with tears in his eyes completely silent. It would be three years before I felt this feeling, as one unexpected day an even shorter letter came for me. In the misery of darkness and persecution, there is but one redeemer and it is truth. For those victims of injustice this force does not always show itself, and for others it does so but very late. But, it does exist and for this I can attest fully. It is the only hope for many in a system which dehumanizes people to the point that many forget even who they are, and the events which brought them there. For many their innocence or guilt no longer matters, for they suffer not just the initial injustice, but continued racism, violence, abuse and fear on a regular basis.

You are stripped of your clothes and belongings. You are given a number, sometimes an ID card. You get roommates you would probably never choose, and you become part of a strange, new community.

You are given a strict new schedule. You wake up and go to sleep and eat at regulated times.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are mediocre at best. Your new favorite meals are things you would have once refused to eat.

Phone calls are limited to ten to fifteen minutes. And they cost your family money.

Your weekly and daily activities are reduced to card games, checkers, and Scrabble.

But your new community will give you gifts. Stamps, envelopes, pencils, Ramen soups, maybe a cup or a fork. They might even give you socks. And when the next newbie shows up, you are expected to help them out as you were helped.

Self-segregate. You can play games with persons of different race, but you cannot share food.

Volunteer nothing to the guards.

All right, sit down and listen. Jim Van Derlin wrote 10 things in a separate answer. Do not forget any of it. Great stuff. Now, I was like 58 going into a Fed prison. I did time in 4 prisons including the Penitentiary at Victorville, CA and finished out my time at FCI Tucson, a medium-high that was rated as High due to it being a transfer point/holding site. Or some shit like that.

So, 9 years. Make amends. Payoff any debts you can. Say goodbye. Sell your car, cancel everything you can, your family won’t need any of it. If you have family, you will need to connect like never before because IF you get visits, they are hard. I didn’t even want my family coming to fucking prison. The penitentiary is surrounded by a 40′ wall lined with piles of razor wire. Your family freaks out every time they come that this is where you are. The inmates all look like they would eat your face off just to stay busy. So you don’t think I’m insulting anyone, a big dude once asked me why I looked so mean, while we were in the visiting room. I think his daughter got scared. I was like ‘bro, you’re 6’9″, 325 pounds and have a face only a mother could love and you think I’m mean looking?

Before this fiasco, a speeding ticket ruined my month. I was not from the hood, I was not connected nor was I a fighting machine. So to reiterate a few comments from Jim, unless you want your asshole the size of a cucumber, DO NOT DO ANYTHING that causes you to owe money. $5 past due, a few homies come by, you no gots??? You trade for sex. It won’t necessarily be your choice. If Someone wants to give you a hit on a smoke, or a joint, DO NOT take it. Do not be surprised when even the one hit you took went on your tab. Yeah that tab, the tab you didn’t know you had.

Respect others. Expect it back. If something goes sideways and nasty talk starts, you have about 10–12 seconds. If the other dude calms, let it rest. If he ain’t calm, expect an attack immediately. You will never argue more than 15 seconds before the shit flies! Be ready and swing back.

Carry yourself with confidence, but not arrogance. you can nod or a small half smile of acknowledgement to peeps you know from other races but do NOT think you can walk up and join a convo with another the guy. you’ll be sorry and get a quick lesson.

My advice, do not be friends with the first guys that approach you. They will be conning you out of something. Hopefully, your bunkie or a guy from a close cell walks you down to the chow hall. Listen, answer questions honestly, and do not try to be someone you are not. Take it slowly. Be friend-LY with people but it takes months before you should trust or rely on others.

After the mental meltdown of the admitting process and the first few days of living in a parallel universe, you will start to go through your life, where it went wrong. There is little you can do from inside. I’m still married, somehow. Don’t expect to be. If you are and she waits, you are blessed.

I made it through my whole sentence until the last year and avoided any battles. Something happened, I had years of being fed up. Sick of prison bull shit. I started yelling about something. There were a couple of COs close by. The boys I was pissed at didn’t like being barked at in front of others. An hour later I got a visit at my locker. 5 dudes. A little talking, a little pushing. I counted and got to 11. I knew this was it. Early on in my sentence, I had decided that if I ever got hit by a group, it was gonna hurt. So I figured, I’m going to concentrate my “love and attention” on 1 guy. I wanted at least one dude besides me to walk with a limp, or a hanging arm, or a fucked up face! You’ll be in pain, but make 1 guy remember you. Word gets around.