Quarantine. Isolation. Men in uniforms keeping you inside. Inability to eat the foods you want to eat. Lack of communication and the unknown; separation from family, a birthday party missed.
Prison, or New Rochelle?
I walk across the mainline from San Quentin to my car and put down the top to enjoy the sun for the short drive home. I’m acutely aware of my freedom and as always, the guilt seeps in as I stop at Mollie Stone’s to choose which fresh fish I’ll prepare for dinner. I need some fruit but pass on a bag of those little oranges they call “cuties” reflecting on a comment one of the incarcerated men made today. He had not had an orange in five years. I hesitate when I choose the raspberries which look particularly good.
Working at San Quentin makes me appreciate every breath of fresh air I take, every meal I make and all the liberties that are so easy to take for granted. But now all that is changing. With COVID-19 lurking in a deep dark not so distant hallway, the reality has finally hit that nobody gets a pass.
Being ill is never easy yet I doubt people consider the “comforts” they have when they are sick tucked in a warm bed with hot tea and Netflix to catch up on. Meanwhile, the prisoners at San Quentin might be left isolated in the SHU; the solitary housing unit if they are considered contagious so they do their best to wait it out alone in their cell.
I can tell you this. The men inside are scared. I’m not even sure I should still be going in but until I’m told differently, I want to show up. That may change next week. After reading an article by The Justice Collaborative (covid19@justicecollaborative.com) posted on Facebook I was reminded that cramped quarters and unsanitary conditions ensure the virus will “spread like wildfire”. Social distancing in a cell that is barely six feet wide, the ability to wash their hands and have something to dry them on and banned hand sanitizer (contains alcohol) are only a few of the concerns.
Visitation is no longer allowed, and last I heard some of the educational classes were cancelled. The status of volunteers remains iffy. Elbow greetings have replaced the fist bumps that were already the norm in prison.
I realize being quarantined is not exactly like being imprisoned. But some people are saying that not being able to leave their houses, running out of necessities as well as non-necessities no matter how trite, are first world problems, but still. For the first time in their lives, some of the more privileged may be wondering how long they can really go while their roots grow out and maybe we’re getting a little taste of the medicine that is so deprived to the rest of the world.
My friend’s son postponing his wedding, my girlfriends first visit to see her daughters new home put on hold, my trip to see my Mom in New York cancelled. We do what we have to do but I believe this is a wake-up call that will prove to be a step in the right direction as we navigate this world that we liked to believe was somewhat predictable.
We’ll deal with climate change and politics and adapt to this crisis as we’ve weathered fires storms, earthquakes, floods and tornadoes. The difference is, this is nature of a different nature. It sucks to cancel plans, to miss gatherings and games and seeing family and not being able to go to the store and purchase all the things we don’t really need.
While we deal with the unknown and frustration of misinformation and consider the collateral damage and what the aftermath will be; maybe it will also tear down some of our own walls of self-possessed privilege. Maybe we can come out of this with a better understanding of what the haves never really had and how not to forget that there are people behind bars who live in isolation and without every day of their lives whether they deserve to or not.
Rethinking a system of punishment that is inhumane is one good thing that might come out of all this.
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