by Mikel Kwaku Osei Holt
The most unnerving sound you’ll ever hear is that of a jail cell door closing and locking behind you.
Even though I was but a visitor to the Racine Correctional Institute last week, that sound sent chills down my spine.
Looking back over my shoulder, I could see the courtyard and, circling the prison, a 12-to-15 foot high wall encased with razor wire. The last inmate to attempt to scale those walls was literally ripped to shreds.
Officials say he was mentally challenged. He would have to be.
On the other side were 1,700 inmates, ranging from hardcore felons, to several hundred serving time in a minimal security wing. What 97% of them have in common is that someday they will be released and return to our streets.
If statistics are reliable, a majority will attempt to reintegrate into society. They will seek to reconnect with family and friends, find work and housing, and atone for their criminal past.
A small percentage will fall into their old ways--selling drugs, robbing and raping. Among those who make a sincere effort to live fruitful, crime free lives, most will run into a brick wall, various obstacles ranging from prejudiced employers to the unsympathetic person who have permanently typecast them as lepers, or worse.
Criminal justice officials are well aware of the obstacles and in the case of Racine Correctional, have attempted to soften the blow through a unique transitional, reentry program that prepares inmates for life on the streets.
I visited the Racine Correctional Institute to learn of the unique program. Tommy Thomas, following an inquiry from an inmate I’ve been communicating with for the past year, invited me. "Te" is among the minimal security inmates. A close friend of my late son, Malik, I’ve known "Te" most of his life. He grew up in my neighborhood near 20th and Hampton, ate our food, heard my lectures and frequently spent the night.
"Te" was like a member of our family, which was in sharp contrast to his home life, which is all too similar to what a majority of Black males face in Milwaukee today.
But even though "Te" was like a household fixture, he still didn’t have the advantages of my son, who attended private schools, was a star athlete and honor student, traveled extensively--including to Africa--and was exposed to and sat at the feet of many of our community’s most esteemed leaders.
At best "Te" was a part-time "surrogate" son, who was probably a tad bit jealous of the opportunities and experiences my son took for granted.
Thus, it was no surprise that while Malik was away in college, "Te" was surviving on the streets, hustling, raising a family and hanging with undesirables. Eventually, it caught up with him.
During our correspondence, "Te" talked of the good ole days, missed opportunities, and the regret he now harbors for not following the advice Malik and I provided over the years.
He also frequently spoke of his eventual release, and the obstacles he will face in his effort to regain some semblance of a normal life as a functioning member of society.
Several months ago I wrote "Te" about conducting a profile of Black inmates, and also sought his assistance in establishing a network through which we could somehow influence younger Black boys who were headed down the same path many of the inmates tread.
I asked "Te" how I could help him and other inmates in making a successful transition back to our community. To my surprise, he forwarded my request to Tommy Thomas, who in turn asked me to visit the prison.
Brother Thomas greeted me at the "door," and after a few minutes of small talk--including a discussion about my "role" on TV 4’s "Sunday Insight with Charlie Sykes" and various community projects--introduced me to the warden, Robert Humphreys, who emphasized the importance of creating mechanisms to reduce the recidivism rate.
As we talked about the challenges of the institution--which houses over 1,400 inmates (well over its official capacity of 1,040)--I couldn’t help but notice a picture of recently retired Green Bay Packer quarterback Brett Favre on his wall with verbiage that declared, "get over it," a reference to fans who remain in a funk over Favre’s decision to end his stellar career.
The statement could very well apply to inmates who face release with anticipation that society will not take into consideration that they have paid their dues to society, and instead will treat them with apprehension, and in some cases, as if they have some contagious disease.
Next on our agenda was a meeting with Elizabeth Gilbertson, who directs the institution’s unique reentry program.
Gilbertson, a tall, attractive White woman (which I assume could be a distraction for many inmates), with a laudable commitment to enhance the transition of inmates, was talking with one as we entered her office. The brother seemed jovial, his mouth full of gold teeth reflecting a hip-hop lifestyle that obviously included some illegal activities that landed him in prison.
If I were to offer him pointers on how to integrate back into society upon his release, I would start with a suggestion that he replace those reflectors with porcelain. First impressions remain a reality, and if the first impression a potential employer holds is that the job seeker is a disciple of Snoop Doggy Dud or Two Quarters...(50 Cent).
The Racine reentry program encompasses a checklist of pre-release activities ranging from educational and vocational certificates to stress management. Over the course of 12-18 months, inmates who are serious about transitioning back into society, strive to fulfill the multiple requirements that will prepare them for life back on the streets.
Unlike the movies, inmates leave Racine and other correctional institutions with whatever they entered with, which could mean they are broke, without a network to provide housing, a job or health insurance of any type.
The pre-release program provides them with new skills, but also a realistic outlook on what awaits them.
"We stress the importance of working, saving for the eventual day. We not only help them build a resume, but also prepare them with basic skills that many people on the outside take for granted, from financial literacy to fathering skills."
Not all of the inmates take advantage of the program, and some, not surprisingly, are obstinate in their desire to return to the lifestyles that led to their incarceration.
Gilbertson spoke of one inmate who defiantly proclaimed that he would start selling drugs the moment he gets out of prison.
"He said that’s his (only option), that he can make many times more money than he can working at McDonalds, and that’s assuming he can get a job." He understood the risks, Gilbertson revealed, but took them in stride.
Gilbertson, Thomas and I discussed at length the reception many felons can expect to receive upon their release.
A cold, cruel reality awaits most inmates. Many families will turn their backs, citizens will spurn them, employers will reject them, with or without excuses.
Which is also where I, and you, come in.
How can we help ease the transition? What are we willing to do? Are they (the felons) our responsibility?
You can answer those questions yourself. As for me, I’ve committed to help establish a network, both to provide services to inmates during the transition process, but also to embrace, through churches and community based organizations, the process once the inmates are released.
Three realities guide my commitment: 97% of the inmates at the Racine Correctional Institute will return to our neighborhoods. That’s a fact! We can help them, or we can turn our backs. The latter course will undoubtedly mean we will pay a price.
Secondly, it is our obligation as Christians, Muslims or Jews. We are our brothers’ keepers. Note Matthew: 25 Chapter, 43-45 verses: "I was a stranger, and ye took me not in: naked and ye clothed me not: sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not.
"Then shall they also answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee ahungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto thee?
"Then shall he answer them, saying, Verily I say unto you. Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me."
Lastly, young brothers like "Te" deserve a second chance.
As I mentioned to Thomas and Gilbertson, many--if not most--of the inmates have stumbled. For me, that means they have two choices: They can either fall down, or they can look at stumbling as "falling forward faster."
