November 22, 2015 - 15:15
We spent some time in Anne's class recently talking about how we connect, on a more basic, personal level, with the women inside. Bringing up themes of truth and lying by omission, as explored by Adrienne Rich, we talked about how we may or may not be developing real trust within the walls of the prison. Last week, those of us in the Friday class witnessed first hand our assumed space of structure and control broke down. I left, as I think many others did, feeling like we were holding something heavy--some emotional intimacy gifted to us by the women who opened their hearts to us in that space on that day.
But something about last class brought a new element to the table--a shared intimacy and honesty that went both ways. Writing "Where I'm From" poems, using as much cryptic language as made us comfortable, we each had the opportunity to bring a part of ourselves to the space that displayed, to some level, our "complex personhood" (as Meera so eloquently brought to the table in her introduction). I left class last week with questions similar to those Jody raised in her piece: Are we educators? Or are we therapists? How can we be both, or at least make space for both kinds of relationships to flourish? I think, in part, this dilemma was for me a result of feeling like we were receiving, but not giving--like therapists, we listened to the women's stories and troubled words, and offered as many encouraging words we could in that moment. This thrust us, somewhat violently, into positions of authority by virtue of our support. When I wrote and shared my "Where I'm From" poem, I gave a little bit of myself back and helped form a space in which everyone else did the same (even if it took more prompting and asking of direct questions). My words were not all transparent, but I felt truly heard when I shared.
I think we feel sometimes that we can't truly form reciprocal, personal relationships because we "haven't been through" what the people inside have gone through, and continue to go through every day. But when we focus so much on the day-to-day struggles of prison life and the circumstances that led the women there, we are really ignoring the complex personhood that we talk about so frequently--we do have shared experiences, or at least emotions, and naming that doesn't mean that we are ignoring our positions of privilege and relative freedom when we walk out of the prison at the end of the day.
I am from countless episodes of I Love Lucy
From black and white
From old movies
From the 1st grade dream of becoming a housewife
From the 5th grade dream of being a professional banjo player
From the 8th grade dream of being a director
From the college dream of being happy
I am from long, wispy hair cut short
Cut short
Cut short
Cut shorter
From the scissors, the clippers, the thinning shears
From the tiny hairs that collect on my shoulders
I brush them off
I am from Debbie and from Bill
From the opera he played as he cooked spaghetti
From Joni Mitchell
And Prince
I am from my father's whistling
The only beautiful music that never needed a melody.