The anticipation had been killing me. I could not sleep the night prior out of pure anxiety that I was going to sleep through my 4:30am alarm and miss our 5:00am departure. When I was finally comfortable in the van with fifteen of my classmates who I had just met a few months ago, it finally hit me what I was about to do. I was heading to a maximum-security women's prison. I was about to be exposed to things and surrounded by people who I could have never imagined. I slept much of the car ride in order to calm my nerves and constant nausea I had been feeling.
When we pulled up to SCI Muncy, I was instantly shocked. How was this a prison? Besides the razor wire and the double layer of fences, it looked very similar to a college campus. The architecture of the buildings was incredibly beautiful, and I found myself with my mouth wide open. The security to get in was not nearly as intense as my overactive mind had thought up during the days leading up to our visit, however, the moment that I heard that long, loud buzz and watched the gate close behind me, I realized where I was. I realized that I was officially on the inside.
I looked across the grounds and saw women walking in their uniforms and I kept telling myself not to stare. I did not want to gawk at them as if they were animals in a zoo. I kept reminding myself that these were humans just like me, and I was in their home. I had to respect that. Our "guide" took us around the grounds and answered any questions that we had. – I am deciding to leave his name out because I do not want to invade his privacy or exploit him in any way, however, I am extremely thankful for his patience and diligence in answering all our questions.
He pointed out the different housing units and explained the different clearance levels that certain inmates had and the privileges that came with them. The housing units were nothing like I had expected. I had pictured the white cinderblock walls with guards constantly patrolling the area, but this could not be farther from the reality in front of me. The buildings looked like a building I would see in a city, well kept and forgive me for saying, almost welcoming. There were many guards, but not nearly as many walking around as the number of inmates. When someone asked how many inmates there were versus how many guards, I was speechless. Almost 1500 inmates, and only around 400 workers. (Keep in mind, that isn't just correctional officers, that includes EVERYONE who works there – support staff, CO's, administration, etc.) Why did I still feel so safe?
He then took us over to the school building, where we ended up spending the majority of our visit. As we approached the building, I began to take in my surroundings more and more and realized how large the prison was. It really felt like a community in and of itself. The closer we got to the school, I noticed a woman – an inmate – standing outside, smoking a cigarette. She was so welcoming and smiled bigger as we approached her. She said hello and asked us all how we were doing. I got a quick glance at her name tag that was attached to her shirt. I could not believe it, I recognized that name. I knew that I had read about her for a research paper earlier in the semester. At that moment, I could not remember exactly what her crime was and had to look it up after we returned to the van later that afternoon. When I googled her name, I audibly gasped. The smiling and welcoming woman had admitted to murdering over twenty people over several years.
When we walked into the school, it was decorated very similarly to an elementary school. There were many colorful posters and different classrooms that were set up normally. I was constantly reminded where we were as there were metal detectors and many signs instructed inmates about the countless things that they were not allowed to do. We stopped and talked to the principal of the school, however, my eyes kept wandering to the cosmetology studio a few doors away. There were at least fifteen inmates in there and twenty college students were sure to draw attention. We were invited in and I was instantly drawn to a woman who looked relatively young and had been speaking very loudly. She asked several of us what we were studying, where we were from, and what we wanted to do in life. Her eyes lit up when I told her that I wanted to become a psychiatrist and that I was interested in working in a prison. She told me "we need bright smiles like yours in here, you could help some of us". We continued to talk to her for several minutes and she eventually revealed that she had been incarcerated for nine years so far for a domestic violence dispute. She did not tell us much about the crime, besides that it was the father of her son and that she "didn't kill him and she was still locked up for ten years. What kinda shit was that?" She explained that she was working towards her cosmetology license while also receiving college credits for counseling. She told us that she got a lot of fights when she first arrived, but when she "finally decided to grow up", she realized that the only person that could help her was herself, and she had a lot of time – nothing but time - to help herself. I have researched her since, and all of the news networks sensualize her and make her out to be an evil, malicious woman. I did not see any maliciousness in that woman, but of course, I have to take into consideration the nature of our conversation.
As we continued to walk outside, we were led over to a building that looked exactly like I had pictured all prisons to look like. There it was: the white, cinderblock, daunting building. Our guide explained that this was where they gave the diagnostic tests when the women would first arrive. He continued to explain how a lot of the goals in prisons now are changing. They want to help these women. The more he spoke, the more I realized we were doing these things too late. The therapy, the building of self-esteem and of self-worth, how to deal with trauma and abuse, all of these things should be taught to every single girl before they get to this point. I was lost in my thoughts as we walked past the two playgrounds. I read the signs.
"SITTING ON THE TABLES OR GROUND ARE PROHIBITED"
I began to imagine what it would be like to watch a child play on these playgrounds and not understand why their mom wasn't going to come home with them. By the time we made it inside the chapel, I was relieved to be out of the cold, but I still had so many questions. We spent a long time in there, discussing very dark topics. We talked about suicide attempts and what happens if an inmate's family member dies, if an inmate dies, how do they address all of this? I still have so many questions, some of which I can't even begin to figure out how to ask.
We finished our conversation and walked towards the exit. I turned around one last time to look at all the women I could see, as they headed to the cafeteria, and to look at the buildings surrounding me. I looked towards a specific building, a building that houses one specific girl who we studied. A girl who has just turned eighteen and will be incarcerated for a very long time to come. I knew she wasn't looking at me, however, I wanted to feel like she was. I wanted her to know that she was capable of rebuilding herself. The crime she committed was heinous and awful, but I do not believe that act should define the rest of her life. I truly wanted her to know that. As I took that last glance and heard the gate open in front of me, I realized that I had the feeling of freedom that many of those women will never have again.
I am hesitant to say that I understand what these women are experiencing because I am fully aware that I do not have that ability, however, what I do know is that I have a much greater understanding than I did before. There are plenty of these women who enter that prison and are going to die there. I was only there for a few hours and I was allowed to leave. I was allowed to walk freely, in my own clothes, talk to the people around me, and ask questions. The women there, they do not have those same rights. Some of them will never have those rights again. I am in no way trying to condemn the terrible crimes that were committed, however, I truly believe that it is so important to remind ourselves that for many of these women, the area behind those fences is their entire lives. I am fully aware that there are women who committed crimes out of pure hatred and maliciousness, but I do not believe that that is the majority. I just cannot let myself believe that. There has to be love and kindness in the majority of the world and for these women, SCI Muncy is their world.
I am eternally grateful for my small experience in their world.
