Prison thoughts..........Part one.

My thoughts this morning are on my fellow prisoners. Prisoners that I have met both on the inside and the outside of the razor wire. The similarities are striking. The differences not that deep.

The most surprising thing about prison, to me, is the incessant need for acceptance and respect. Men, when thrown together in a "Piggy-Lord of the Rings" setting, revert back to childhood. Who has the biggest ego, who is the class nerd, who is the class clown, who is the most popular. This simple, yet complex, emotional roller coaster is and was not for the weak minded. In my head, I likened the punishment of prison to that of my basic training mind frame. The military and the prison system are very similar in structure. Very similar in societal structure inside the walls. Extremely alike with the weak do not survive. The word weak is very misleading to society on the outside of the prison walls. Weakness, in the form of body structure and stature, is not the most important thing. Weakness of spirit and lack of confidence in one's self is the quickest downfall to an inmate.

I entered prison with the fear of hate, bigotry, and violence. These things were installed in my head from countless episodes of "Law and Order, OZ, and bad "B" prison movies. This was so not the case. Prison was and still is full of average "joes" that made stupid mistakes. Most of the men slipped up, did drugs, produced drugs, trafficked drugs, or just were trying to feed their family. Victims, in my opinion, of society.

This "society" of average joes, for the most part, are deer caught in headlights. Trapped in a system of downward spirals that often is a viscous circle of parole and violation of parole. A circle that is very hard for the average joe to stop. Upon release from prison you are appointed a state "guardian" --parole officer-- to guide you through this maze of re-entry into normal society. (HA!--this system is a WHOLE different post!) The main thought I am trying to convey here is the need for acceptance is intensified by the very system that tries to deflect your state of being and mind.

In prison, men want respect. Prisoners want love and the feeling of being needed. The straightest arrow, behind the walls of prison, becomes a vindictive, possessive, and needy individual. The "straightest" arrow often resorts to mental warfare and, at times, physical violence. In prison, possesion is power. This possession includes sweatshirts, coffee, other men, groups, jobs, and drugs. And what is crazy, coffee and drugs carry the same amount of retribution for being dishonest. Prisoners who are weak-fight. Prisoners who are strong-play the other inmates. The key to my survival was that of open eyes and an open mind. I was very fortunate that my personality and outlook on life overshadowed my fear of possession. Possession of any kind.

The average prisoner is approached within his first hour of incarceration by the worst and neediest prisoners looking for refuge, handouts, a hustle, or just to find a similar soul. The strongest prisoners, men, sit back and absorb the surroundings. Staking out, weighing the options, or completely ignoring the game. It was and still is amazing to me the intensity and forwardness of some of the men I've encountered in my prison "tour" of the state. The one and only factor that was the same in each of them was "acceptance and love". These men would regale you with funny stories that were always followed with great tales of strength and courage. The closing arguments were always that of "watch out for this one, stay away from that one, this guy is a creep", and on and on. The entire time these stories are going on, the storyteller is looking for your one weak spot. This is where the mental weakness enters the survival of the fittest. You either stand for yourself OR you become something you never thought.

In my first 24 hours at Moberly Correctional Center, I was approached by at least 30 men who wanted to "own" me.

Ego boost? Yes.

Dangerous? Extremely.

Necessary? Of course.

Simple? Never.

Prison was like a giant chess game. Each move had a repercussion. Each action had responsibility either to yourself or to your "group" of friends.

I had one thing on my side. My assurance in who I am and what my boundaries were.

In this 21st century, homosexuality is embraced and accepted on a level so bizarre in prison. Gay men are revered. As crazy as it sounds, gay men are respected for their choice of life and their courage to live their life as they see fit. There are men who are completely against the concept, but prison has taught the average joe that being honest is better than playing a role that is not yourself. The biggest homophobes were some of my closest allies during my incarceration. We each new where we stood, and we respected those boundaries. I was never afraid to hide who or what I am. It would never have been possible. The closet cases in prison are the shady and distrustful.

In reading the previous paragraph it would seem that I am off track with my point and recollections about prison, but it is quite the opposite. My "gayness" protected me. My "gayness" earned me the respect I never had to fight to achieve. My "gayness" was as much a part of me as the color of my skin. My "gayness" was my key to survival.