In many United States prisons, corrections officers aren’t the ones calling the shots. Gang-affiliated prisoners are, and essentially have free rein to assault and extort other prisoners as they see fit. Many corrections officers help them bring in contraband—more lucrative than their hourly-wage jobs—and those who don’t mostly do as they’re told.
There’s a lot less research on the impact of gangs in US prisons compared to on the street. But while only a fraction of 1 percent of the US population is gang-affiliated, within prisons that figure is by some estimates around 15 percent. Because many of the same gangs have members both inside and outside prison, they typically control a facility’s contraband—tobacco and other drugs; cell phones; sex. They maintain that control through violence and extortion. A few words from a gang leader and a riot could break out and potentially claim the lives of staff as well as other prisoners, which is why gangs scare the bejesus out of many prison commissioners and wardens.
A lot of people on the outside have reason to care about prison gang violence because the people being subjected to it are their family or friends. But the rest should still care because even if you don’t know them yet, many of these traumatized prisoners will be released back into your community one day.
“The community can put us away without a second thought and get back a messed-up individual,” Perry*, incarcerated with me at South Central Correctional Facility in Tennessee, told Filter, “or use the time they put us away to show a different way. And get back someone who can be a good member of society.”
“If a gang member leaves prison and goes back into the community unchanged … he is empowered and will gravitate toward that same violence.”
Many “tough on crime” people who have not lived inside the criminal-legal system believe that prisons are supposed to be tough places. In their minds, being convicted of a felony means you forfeit the right to a dignified life, and so whatever rapes or beatings or burglaries you suffer, you brought them on yourself. This torture is considered part of your punishment and rehabilitation.
Many people who initially come to prison on short sentences for nonviolent convictions become trapped here after being forced to defend themselves from gang-affiliated prisoners. In my three decades of incarceration in the Tennessee men’s prison system, I have never known anyone who got out and left all their trauma in prison. Freedom doesn’t heal trauma. People bring it with them.
“I do know this, if a gang member leaves prison and goes back into the community unchanged during his time of incarceration, he is empowered,” Perry said. “And will gravitate toward that same violence … that kept him safe while locked up.”
Perry credits his exit from gang life 20 years ago to finding a higher power—higher than the human power held by gang leaders, for example.
Over the years as I’ve met more current and former gang members, I’ve noticed what factors reduce the harms that prison inflicts on them, and as a result reduce some of the harms they inflict on non-affiliated people they’re locked up with.
Not everyone is inclined toward spirituality, but everyone benefits from having enough food to eat. Hungry bellies mean more violence, yet unfortunately prisons have a massive unemployment crisis while commissary prices only keep going up.
“I couldn’t go to class with a guy one day and rob him the next.”
In addition to edible food, humans need purposeful ways to occupy their time—especially in prison, where there are few other sources of dignity or hope. But the trend is increasingly to warehouse us in perpetual lockdown inside our cells, without any educational or recreational programming.
“I couldn’t go to class with a guy one day and rob him the next,” Kendrick*, also incarcerated at South Central, told Filter. “It felt different.”
Kendrick had already been affiliated with a gang as a teenager in the free world, and when he was sent to prison he initially continued to carry out orders without question. This made prison life easier, and gave him a sense of belonging. Usually the orders were either giving someone a beating or robbing them of any valuable property. Then, after a couple of years, Kendrick got his GED.
“It was the first time I had accomplished something for myself,” he said. “It made me feel like I could do more than what I had been doing, and could make my own decisions about my life.”
He went to gang leaders and asked to be taken off the roll, meaning no longer be considered an active member. He knew that this process would involve taking a beating himself this time. “I was scared, I can’t lie. I had given these beat-downs before and knew how brutal it was going to be,” he said. “When it was over, and I was alive, I smiled and knew I was going to be okay—I was free.”
*Names have been changed for sources’ protection.
Image (cropped) via New York State Senate
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