Hey there! Kayla and Emily here. Over the first semester of college, we both got the opportunity to get an inside peak at Larimer County jail. Kayla, being a Criminal Justice major, toured the facility with a class. Emily, volunteering weekly through the Speak Out! program at CSU, attends weekly and works closely with a group of fifteen female inmates for an hour and a half. We thought it'd be fun to share our experiences!
Kayla, Criminal Justice Major
As a double major in Psychology and Criminal Justice, I'm interested in the criminal justice system, and why people do the things they do, like commit crimes. This past semester, I had the opportunity to tour the Larimer County Jail and get an inside look at the inmates, the facilities, and the processes within the jail. My experience was eye-opening.
Before the tour, we were warned that our visit would be as abnormal to the inmates as it would be for us. The inmates were not used to seeing civilians, and rarely ever see women. We were warned to expect crude comments and stares. I had never been prepped like that before meeting other human beings. The disclaimers and apologies about their potential behavior stripped them of their humanistic qualities. I felt like I was about to meet another species.
Unlike in movies, there were no barred cells and no dark hallways. The majority of inmates had the ability to roam freely in community rooms attached to their cells, which resembled bedroom doors. The worker inmates even could walk freely in the hallways to and from their jobs without guard supervision.
Our presence peaked a lot of curiosity from the inmates. In the different pods we visited, inmates would gather as close as they could and stare and make comments, but no comment would I classify as rude. We heard, "Oh, field trip to the zoo today?", "Look at us, we're animals, huh?!", "Welcome to Hell," among many other comments referencing their feelings towards our visit. We visited the maximum security pod, where prisoners are on a 23 hour lock down everyday. The deputy giving the tour warned us that we most likely wouldn't be given access inside the room because the inmates were usually too agitated. However, the guard let us inside. Immediately, the inmates grew extremely agitated. They began yelling, banging on walls, and were visibly and audibly distressed. We were not escorted out, though, until several minutes later.
The tour was extremely eye-opening. Yes, it was educational and I learned a lot about the jail system, but at what cost? Our visit clearly upset most of the inmates we saw. By touring the jail, the inmates felt like animals at the zoo. We were not escorted out of the rooms when inmates became increasingly distressed. From the start of the tour, we were implicitly taught to see the inmates as less than human. I felt ashamed for unconsciously perpetuating that viewpoint. I left feeling discouraged. There is no chance for rehabilitation when the prisoners are regarded as un-rehabilitatable.
By no means is this a criticism of Larimer County Jail, specifically, or a generalization of all jails and prisons. But, I do know that prisoners are largely regarded as second-class citizens. I mean, I've been calling them "prisoners" and "inmates" this whole time, instead of "people in jail." Everything in jail, from the uniforms, numbers assigned to people, and the face that they're called "inmates," instead of "people in jail," enables the dehumanization of the prisoners. Considering a large majority of people in jail and prison will return back to society, at some point the goal needs to move from punishment and towards rehabilitation.
Emily, Local Volunteer
First of all, I never imagined I’d be volunteering and visiting a prison on a weekly basis. Honestly, who does? I’m a Natural Resources major, studying anything from trees to philosophy, save prisons. I stumbled upon this volunteer position during the first week of school, at an involvement fair, the position was advertised as “At Risk” Outreach, which really interested me. I decided to go for it, and, a few weeks later, was standing at the front door of Larimer County Jail, ready to write. “Ready” is a loose term. I was terrified! I had no idea what to expect. Based on what I’d seen in movies, media, and basic stereotypes I was not anticipating an easy night. I worried that the women would be so, so different than I. I thought they wouldn’t listen to someone like me, let alone care about reading and writing.
Boy, was I wrong. Speak Out! And the work I have done with these women, opened my eyes to a whole different perspective on incarcerated life. While, yes, they are serving sentences, they are also women. They’re mothers. Daughters. Sisters. Friends. Their love for their family, fear for the future, or hate for cold weather, all comes out through the amazing writing they produce.
And, by the way, they love to write! Every week, they come with folders and journals, stuffed with writings and drawings they’ve been working on for weeks. All that we do as volunteers is listen- nothing more. Yet, that small simple task, means so much to them.
After a semester of this volunteer work, I’ve realized how much this work means to me. Our weekly efforts have opened my eyes to a population I never would have even considered. In your day to day life, you don’t really think about jail, do you? No, probably not (unless you’re playing Monopoly, of course). Neither did I. Now, I am not only aware of such a population, but I am able to make a weekly difference in the lives of more than a dozen women.
