By Sewheat Asfaha

Growing up in neighborhoods that are predominately communities of color, I've experienced and witnessed continually discriminatory policing. The school-to-prison pipeline was made clear to me at a young age, as I heard stories of family members and peers getting caught in this cycle.

My first time visiting a carceral entity was in Lumpkin, Georgia, one of the poorest towns in the country. I was on a college service project trip centered around immigration, and the group and I watched a short documentary detailing how private prisons make a profit and therefore have an incentive to keep prisons filled. We drove 3 hours to the Stewart Detention Center, a private prison operated by Corrections Corporation of America. Incidentally, one of the detainees I spoke with was living in my hometown before he was transferred - I couldn’t believe how close to home it felt. In the years following, I continued to sharpen my analysis by becoming more involved with organizing efforts in my community.

The United States has long had the highest incarcerated population worldwide, with roughly 2 million people in jails and prisons. In Washington state, around 14,000 people are held in prisons, with 1,500 of them at Monroe Correctional Complex.

My colleagues, Stephanie and Sofia, recently visited the Monroe facility with a donor community, One for Justice, which focuses on organizing and supporting the efforts of philanthropists who are committed to reimagining the criminal justice system. The experience was also coordinated by Collective Justice, which is a nonprofit that leads training on restorative and transformative justice practices to equip agencies and individuals with the skills to address harm through community healing. They are one of many organizations working to create new ways of enacting community safety, accountability, and healing outside of the traditional structures of the criminal justice system. When Stephanie and Sofia came to our staff meeting after this visit, their reflections were so moving and thoughtful that I thought to have this interview be my first blog post for Phīla. I hope you appreciate their reflections as much as I did.

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What was the process like to enter Monroe prison? How did it feel entering the premises?

Sofia: The process to get on the list to be able to visit was challenging and needed registration weeks in advance. We were instructed to bring a state or federal-issued identification. Upon entering, the prison staff kept our documents in exchange for a visitor badge. I noticed feeling anxious about surrendering something that represented my personal freedom in order to enter the space. I also was thinking a lot about my brother who was in and out of jail through much of his life, up until his passing. I wondered how it felt for him knowing he would spend months behind locked doors like these, and that made me enter with a feeling of being a sister.

Stephanie: It was tightly controlled and very organized. We were a group of about a dozen, and came on one bus. We had to move as one group, and pause in each chamber and wait for doors to lock behind us and unlock in front of us to get through. It was a medium-security prison, but every space had guards watching. Once we were on the grounds, I noticed a community garden and a bench. I wondered what is the process of being able to sit on this bench in the garden. How would an inmate get to access a meditative space like that and what bureaucracy is required?

Once you entered, tell me about the group you met with and the individuals. What stood out to you from the conversations you had?

Stephanie: Our group met with a group of 12 incarcerated men. Guards gave us explicit instructions to only give handshakes and no hugs. There was a nervous energy, myself included, but someone mentioned just how significant it was for people from the outside to visit and I think we all felt how special it was that we were there.

Sofia: A member of Collective Justice opened the circle with a grounding exercise, which they typically use in their justice circles as part of the Healing Education and Accountability for Liberation (HEAL) program. A question was posed to the group - “what brings you here?” There was a mix of responses, and we got to hear a piece of everyone’s story. A common theme was hearing multiple generations of family members going into prison and experiencing the carceral systems, sometimes simultaneously. Having a high percentage of adult men in prison for long periods of their young adult lives had a notable impact on their communities. Members in the circle shared wanting to break this cycle and support others in this journey.

Stephanie: We learned about how difficult it is to get programs like HEAL at the prisons. There were many stories of folks growing up in foster care, experiencing violence, and ultimately being abandoned once they become 18. Fundamentally, I wondered - why is it so difficult to access these programs that are so needed? Why wouldn’t we give folks a chance to heal and make sense of the life they had? What are the barriers to accessing programs like this? Folks in the circle shared the layered politics that often block these programs from happening. Additionally, a few shared that even wardens and correctional officers are also not in socially stable conditions themselves and are in need of many of the same services that inmates would get. So there is a perceived feeling of resentment that the inmates could get access to therapy, education and healing which feels like a reward when they are there to be “punished”. I found this fascinating and disturbing.

Sofia: Another thing we took away from the circle was “hurt people hurt people.” So many folks in the circle were victims of violence themselves when they were young, powerless, and vulnerable. They shared how the HEAL program helped them build an awareness of why they might have engaged in violence, but they also continue to build their analysis towards actionable accountability for the harms they created. The participants work to actively disrupt these patterns of harm.

Stephanie: I was struck by how criminal justice as an issue area is deeply intersectional. It is tightly connected to issues of foster care, housing, economic justice and more. What happens when folks leave Monroe? Where can they afford to live? I also learned recently that WA State law prevents released prisoners to stay until morning thus releasing them in the middle of night, in unsafe conditions - without stability or a social safety net, which increases the probability that they’ll return.

What surprised you about the visit? What did you learn?

Sofia: I was surprised to hear that since 2020, Monroe had not allowed any nonprofit programs to operate in person and this visit was the first time in years that the community partners had in person contact with their clients. I learned that DOC is closing a unit at Monroe that has allowed these programs. From a prisoner standpoint, it was shared with us that it felt like a political decision to close one of the “better” units. I also want to highlight that Washington state does not have parole - many people we met were serving 15-year-plus sentences, often from crimes they committed as a youth. I was saddened and angry hearing how so many had spent their entire adult lives imprisoned.

Stephanie: I also want to emphasize Washington’s lack of parole. We hear all the time about how progressive Washington is but we often see the opposite. With our regressive tax code, and now learning that we are one of only sixteen states without parole, we see there is still work to do. I wondered how Washington’s criminal justice system measured in comparison to other states. In a conversation with one of the program leaders, they said that advocates were able to make some progress in Washington, but I got the impression that there is still a lot that needs to change.

For folks who have not had much interaction with the criminal justice system, what is something you want to share from the visit?

Sofia: Visits where you get to interact with and hear from people who are the most impacted are important for philanthropists. This visit underscored the importance of getting proximate when it comes to truly understanding social issues.

Stephanie: You have to be willing to experience discomfort with what you’re witnessing, hearing, and feeling. Criminal Justice is a complicated issue with a lot of perspectives to hold. I thought about my cousin who has been incarcerated and his very complicated life. Sometimes in philanthropy, we try to look for things that are neat and clearcut. The harder thing is navigating all the gray areas, and that’s what this visit brought out for me. How do we acknowledge that harm has been done while also recognizing that the current justice system is cruel, and unhelpful across the board? For a visit like this, folks should be prepared to hold a lot of different emotions.

How did it feel leaving Monroe?

Stephanie: Perhaps it may sound strange, but I felt grateful. It was such an eye-opening experience and I learned so much. It reinforced for me how important site visits are to hone one’s understanding of issues.

Sofia: I felt humbled by this experience. I reflected about how hard everyone we met was working to be accountable and heal themselves. I also thought about how being in prison alone does nothing to rehabilitate - a time sentence with no investment in a healing process does not really help the communities or people who have been hurt. I left wanting to continue to learn more, and gained an even deeper motivation to connect with clients who are responding to the urgency of criminal justice. I’m glad that groups like One for Justice are convening philanthropists to reimagine the criminal justice system.

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Centering voices of the most impacted is essential to understanding solutions to social issues. In the realm of criminal justice, several barriers disrupt any connection to incarcerated communities and many restrictive practices continue to limit nonprofit program work. Yet, organizers continue to be creative and persistent in reaching their base while forging new paths of accountability and healing.

As you continue your philanthropy journey, I hope you can reflect on what it means to stay connected to these issues, and what it can look like for funders to work alongside community partners towards a justice system that is truly restorative.