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Domestic Violence Awareness Day

20 Mar

by Emily Harris

On Saturday March 12th, I had the honor of attending the 5th Annual Domestic Violence Awareness Day at Valley State Prison for Women. The day was incredibly moving, full of lots of emotion, tears, laughter and many familiar faces. It was such an honor to be present to witness the powerful skits, music, dance, poetry, and testimony about domestic violence. One of the creative acts of resistance was the purple paper chain that the event organizers created that wrapped around the entire gymnasium. Each piece of paper had a quote such as “you are not alone”, “it is not your fault”, “break the silence” and as each speaker came to the stage they would breaking a chain off and read it out loud.

The event was organized by the Domestic Violence Peer Educators and attended by 400 women and transgender people at VSPW. The event planners invited outside guests to participate and speak at the event, in attendance this year were members of the California Coalition for Women Prisoners, Justice Now, TGI Justice Project and CURB!!

Click here for more photos from TGIJP!

Below is an article from the Merced Sun-Star about the event:

Inmates at Chowchilla women’s prison address vicious cycle

By YESENIA AMARO
[email protected]

Camilla Russell was abused as a child. “I never talked about it,” she recalled. Not talking about it for years caused the tension inside of her to build up as anger.

The Restorative Revolution

11 Mar
This essay by Elaine Shpungin, Ph.D. was originally posted on 2/15/11 at http://www.improvecommunication.net/. We hope it will inspire some dialogue about the intersections of prison arts and restorative practices. Please share your thoughts.

Call me crazy - but I think we are ready for a Revolution.

I’m talking about a revolution in the way we approach justice, transgression, punishment, crime, and every day conflict among ordinary people. I am talking about the way we treat each other after we hurt each other - even in very deep ways - and the way we treat those who are less powerful than us when “justice” is placed in our hands.

I am talking a transformational, society-wide, lens-shifting, all-affecting revolution the scale of the 1960′s civil rights and women’s rights movements, a revolution in how we think about who we are and how we live, work, and love together.

Not a solution to everything. Not panacea, utopia, peace and love for all. But a fundamental shift in the collective understanding of what might be possible.

I feel it in my bones, like the rumble of a train coming down the tracks way before you see its lights appear from behind the bend.

People are sensing the heavy creaking of the current justice system, the way it is over-burdened and under-humane, the way it takes our sons and daughters and nieces and nephews and puts them back into our communities more hardened and less integrated than they were before, the way it creates rifts among us, decreasing rather than increasing the sense of safety for which we all long.

And people are becoming dissatisfied with the way we inadvertently replicate that same model in our homes, with people most precious to us, and in our communities, the places where we spend our waking hours.

I work with a lot of communication modalities and I have been talking to people about empathy and healing and dialogue for a long time.

But when I mention the restorative practices work in which I am involved, people respond with the kind of excitement, the kind of energy I have not seen before. Their eyes light up. They smile. They want to learn more. They want to get involved.

I am talking about people across all economic, class, age, and race differences: administrators working in the formal justice system and grandmothers of boys in the local jail, academics and activists, rabbis and conservative ministers, teachers and parents, college students and poets. When I share what might be possible, there is a spark, an electrical surge of hope.

And what is possible is a way of doing conflict and justice in which each voice and each side gets heard, in which people who have been hurt get to ask their toughest questions and those who have caused pain get to experience the impact of what they have done and come out feeling more human, not less. What is possible are solutions to conflicts that are not believable until you hear them, that stem from human creativity that is untapped by the current way we do things, and are agreed upon by everyone who is impacted by the conflict.

Restorative practices, as ancient as human society, have been making their way back into our collective knowledge. Some of them, like the Restorative Circles practice which I have been learning, are laced with a modern edge, an edge forged in the fires of inner-city Brazilian favelas where drugs, gun violence, racialized tensions and numbing poverty overlay the struggle for daily survival.

And that is what makes the possibility so palpable. There is another way and it works. It works to re-humanize people to each other in the most trying of circumstances across deeply etched lines. In a place where unbelievable beauty and unbelievable disparity go hand in hand, restorative practices are growing and being embraced by school districts, youth courts, youth prisons, neighborhoods and homes, presidential candidates and major news networks. Restorative Circles are winning awards and changing circumstances, changing lives, changing how people think about and live with conflict.

Not a solution to everything. Not panacea, utopia, peace and love for all. But a fundamental shift in the collective understanding of what might be possible.

A Restorative Revolution. It’s coming.

Wanna get on board?

Learning with the Incarcerated Drives Students to Action

8 Feb

This article by Wendy Jason was originally posted on Change.org on 2/8/11

Since 1990, University of Michigan students have been offered unique, transformative opportunities to learn and create side by side with incarcerated youth and adults. Through coursework that often leads to participation in the university-sponsored Prison Creative Arts Project (PCAP), undergraduates have collaborated with professors, alumni and community members to facilitate arts-based workshops in 24 prisons, six juvenile facilities and seven under-resourced high schools across the state.

Professor Buzz Alexander, founder of PCAP, had been teaching a class, English 319, about the intersections of theater and social change for six years when two lifers at the Florence Crane Women’s Facility asked to register for the course. He consented, and each week during that semester traveled to the facility with two students to meet with the incarcerated women. During these meetings, students and professor engaged in improvisational theater activities, analyzing the racial, class and power dynamics at play in the situations they confronted. They explored their shared space, including the similarities and striking differences in the contexts of their lives.

Alexander quickly realized the power of this experience. A longtime proponent of supporting students to engage directly with communities in activism, he rejected the elitism of academia and its withdrawal from public discourse. He sought to provide students, faculty, and community members a forum for engaged, collaborative dialogue and action. And his class provided a venue in which all involved could expand their perspectives, challenge mainstream perceptions, and connect across differences.

Within a year, the course was completely dedicated to prison theater, and through English 310, Alexander began offering students the chance to facilitate workshops in creative writing, visual art, dance, music and drama at juvenile facilities and high schools. It didn’t take long for these courses to get the attention of curious students; the 25 seats in each class fill up every semester.

Emily Harris, who now serves on PCAP’s National Advisory Board, took Alexander’s English 310 class back in 2001 during her sophomore year. She was placed at a boys’ detention facility, where she facilitated a mixed-media workshop. The next semester she signed up for another class with Alexander.

“It was a formative experience for me,” Harris reflects. “I had the chance to grapple with my own privilege and look at the world in a new way. It was the first time I had seen the impact of institutionalized racism so explicitly and close to home.”

Jaime Nelson, PCAP’s statewide coordinator, became involved by taking 319. “The way [Alexander] taught and interacted was unique,” she recalls. “We learned what it means to actually bare witness, rather than just studying something. And we learned about what it means to facilitate rather than teach.” Nelson calls her experience in 319, and with PCAP, “the single most informative, influential experience I had [in college]. It politicized me,” she says, “and taught me the philosophy of how I want to live my life and be in spaces with people.”

In his new book Is William Martinez Not Our Brother: Twenty Years of the Prison Creative Arts Project, Alexander outlines the foundation he provides for his students: “I ask them to respect the youth and adults they will work with … I ask them to respect everyone at the facility … I ask them to believe in the youth and prisoners … [and] I ask them to practice a process of discovery.” He readies his students for the pain they will experience when they get up close and personal with “the economic injustice of their country.”

Many of Alexander’s students, having been so affected by their experiences, join PCAP upon completion of his classes. PCAP allows them to continue on as facilitators, and participate in the organization’s annual exhibition of art by Michigan prisoners. Last year, 236 artists from 36 prisons exhibited 422 works of art. The event, like the culminating performances that result from each workshop, is an integral opportunity for prisoners to share their stories and talents with the outside world.

Though PCAP was formally founded years ago, it is reborn, writes Alexander, “whenever youth, adults, and students step forward together in institutions where there is much pain and little trust, to risk collaboration and creativity. To begin to laugh, imagine and play, and to take ownership of their voices.” This is education that truly inspires, that nurtures the kind of independent, critical thinking that ignites social change.

PCAP members and students become more critically aware of issues relating to incarceration and the criminal justice system as a result of their participation. Many take action through supporting campaigns like this one, demanding that the poor — who fill our prisons in disproportionate numbers — be provided competent legal defenses.

Wendy Jason is a writer for Change.org and a passionate advocate for restorative justice who has worked on behalf of prisoners across the country.

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