The Bias of Fear: How to Shift Ignorance to Understanding

by Makaila Heifner (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find USA

The strangest place I’ve ever visited was prison. My entire life I have bought into the idea that people in prison are inherently evil. I understood that some people may have been falsely accused and, in recent years, marijuana crimes seemed trivial, if not just downright silly, but I never had to consider the implications and effects of prison until I began volunteering at San Quentin. I was embarrassed by the fact that I blindly accepted the media’s portrayal of prison as truth; I assumed that prisons were a good thing because they kept me safe by keeping “bad” people in. I found a deep sense of regret: how can we, more specifically I, intend to help people when I fail to address issues just because they are not looking me dead in the eye? One of my first conversations I had at SQ was with Curtis Roberts, a member of the administrative staff at SQ News. He seemed excited to meet me and immediately told me, “I wonder if you look like my daughter. I haven’t seen her in twenty-four years, but I think about her every day.” I searched for a response, but nothing came out except an awkward laugh and something that came across as a strange hybrid between a grimace and a smile. I kept considering this interaction for the rest of the week. The thing that haunted me was my own dehumanization of the inmates. Of course they have lives and families outside of prison; of course they think about them and miss them dearly; of course they act the same as me; and of course they are plagued with the same complex emotions as I am. When you get right down to it: they are just like me. Yet somehow I, someone who prides herself on being empathetic and well-reasoned, seemed to completely forget about this because I put the label of “evil” on these men. Even now, I am ashamed of my lack of empathy and my failure to learn about a system that plagues much of the country. San Quentin News forced me, however, to examine my own conceptions of inmates and the criminal justice system, as well as to examine my role within changing the system. It is not to say that the men inside are innocent, in fact, all of the men would tell you that they did something in order to be in prison, but we cannot continue to view these men as monsters who pose a threat to society. We must begin to view inmates as people who require rehabilitation, which is very evidently possible through the San Quentin program, but also as gifted and intelligent men who have a story that needs to be told. Although the news program is not meant to inform ignorant people like myself, it acts as a vital step to bringing the confusing, and quite possibly scary, world of criminal justice and reform into a more tangible effort. If the public keeps receiving overdramatized dramas of prison presented by Hollywood or only ever hears the violent narratives in mainstream journalism, it will only further perpetuate negative stereotypes of the men and keep real change from taking place. One of the most interesting conversations I had while working in the newsroom was with Rahsaan Thomas, one of the paper’s staff writers. He asked me if I believed that in order to change the system if it requires change from the inside or the complete abolition of the entire system. I wasn’t entirely sure and felt myself being torn between the two options: how can you fix such a broken institution? But then again, how would you completely rebuild an institution without corruption, if at all? I didn’t think too much before I blurted out, “Uh. I guess abolish the system?” Rahsaan considered me and shrugged. “Nah, you have to fix it from the inside.” He stated. “Abolishing it will only create more issues. You have to start slowly and on a smaller level, but piece by piece it will begin to correct itself. It’s people like you, the volunteers, and the guards, and maybe eventually us, former convicts. It’s a revolution right here.”