My former student, friend, and co-author was moved to a new prison during COVID. We (myself, Mitali, and his Abuela) have visited a couple of times via the video visit functionality they set up, but we've also been trying to visit in person, ever since in-person visits were allowed again. After four of them being canceled (sometimes we were told why, sometimes not), we finally got a visit.
I was super nervous about this visit. (I felt better when Mitali mentioned that she was also, because she is an inherently positive and optimistic person!) I am not proud of this, but there was a large part of me that was hoping that the visit would be canceled, just like the previous four were. I felt a little better when someone I know messaged me privately to tell me that they had had very good experiences visiting a family member in that prison. But I still didn't sleep well at all that night, worrying about the guards, the many things that could go wrong, and the projected 111-degree heat.
We had a routine down, before COVID, when he was at the other prison. I would pick up Abuela at her house and drive to Orinda. We'd leave my car there and Mitali would drive us the 3 1/2 hours to Corcoran. We were trying to do a similar process to this new prison but hit a snag when Mitali's car was in the shop and she wasn't sure about the coolant situation in her loaner car. My car is fine, but I hate driving (and have back issues) and more importantly, Abuela needs a knee replacement and is much more comfortable in an SUV-type car, which mine is not. As Abuela and I were driving to Orinda to meet up, Mitali called me... she had stopped by a gas station to get the coolant checked and the person helping her had the exact same car and told her she was in good shape to drive the whole way there!
Let me stop here for a minute and tell you all how much I appreciate
Mitali. She was trying to tell me that I do 75-90% of the work on these visits and that is absolutely not true at all! I sign us up (which is, admittedly, a giant bureaucratic pain in the butt and probably stops many possible visitors) and I pick Abuela up at her house. I figure out the timing and when we need to leave. But Mitali? Mitali DRIVES US. If you know me, you know how much driving exhausts me, physically and emotionally. This is huge.
And if you don't know Mitali, well, you are missing out. She lightens situations with humor and kindness, but she does this somehow without making light of anything that is serious. I don't know how to explain this but she holds and honors the gravity of situations, sorrow, and injustice, while also bringing joy and levity that is needed to get through the situation. She was, literally, an answer to prayer from my very first prison visit when we didn't know each other well and she didn't know Jorge at all. She is a huge reason why Abuela and I are now friends - she broke the ice and broke through all the racial and class divides so that the three of us see each other as women trying to make it through difficult lives -- as friends.
Back to yesterday. We all got in Mitali's car and, because I was worried about the extreme heat, I was PREPARED. I brought a cooler with ice packs and cold water. Abuela brought snacks. The AC in the loaner car worked well, as did the coolant, so we got there with no issues.
When we got to the gate, we were looking for our IDs (you show them over and over and over), and it took a minute to get them out. This is when we could tell that we were in a different facility than the previous prison. The guard joked a little with us and was patient. I let out the breath that I hadn't realized I was holding. Then... then... WE PARKED IN THE SHADE. The previous prison didn't have shade, and it was every bit as hot as this one.
We left everything in the car except for our clear ziplock bags of dollar bills, our IDs, and Mitali's car keys. Thankfully, the facility is much smaller and Abuela didn't have to walk as far, because she can't wear her knee brace since there's metal in it. There's probably some way around it but we would have no idea how to start getting that exemption.
We came in and felt the blessed air conditioning but were then directed to wait outside. Luckily it was in the shade and it was "only" about 90+ degrees at that point. The mood was different - people waiting were chatting a little and one of them explained to us how everything worked at this facility. There was also an igloo of ice water, which I've never seen at the other facility.
An officer came out to usher in the 11:30 appointments. He greeted us. That sounds like a small thing but we were never greeted at the other facility. It always felt like being accosted, with none of the social niceties that make being human a little easier.
We presented our IDs and admitted that we couldn't remember our friend's inmate number. Instead of mocking us or getting angry, as has happened at the other facility, he looked it up for us. Then he told us that we had to fill out our visitor paperwork again because it's been more than two years. But he quickly assured us that it would be quick and that we could still visit today - before we even had time to worry.
Mitali and I filled out the paperwork for ourselves and for Abuela, because she cannot read or write. She signed it with her initials, which is all she can do. I took the papers back up to the guard and he said, "No, no, she needs to sign it." I explained that she can't read or write and, AMAZINGLY, he looked over at her with compassion and said to me, "I understand, no problem."
He didn't dehumanize her. He DIDN'T DEHUMANIZE HER. I am tearing up thinking about this. Then he told us we could stay until 3 pm, which was the best possible scenario. We turned out our pockets, shook out our pant legs, and went through the metal detector. There was not a single lewd comment about our shirts (this has happened several times at the other place). When they realized that Mitali had left the carabiner on her keys, they nicely, *nicely* told her that she had to take it off, and she could either take it out to the car or leave it on the ledge outside and hope it was still there. NICELY.
I can't believe I am now crying about basic human kindness, but this was beyond my wildest hopes for prison visitation.
I'll add the rest soon in a new post.
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