CV: You were fifteen when you entered life behind bars. What was the first lesson you learned about surviving in prison?

EPJ: When I first entered prison I met two prisoners who were gracious enough to share their version of the do’s and don’ts of prison life with me. One was a Latino man named Jaime and the other an African-American man named Dee. Both prisoners were in their mid-20’s at the time and they were the two neighbors I had when I moved in, immediately to the left and right of my cell.

When I first moved in Jaime gravitated toward me because we both shared the commonality of our Latino ethnicity. Dee began speaking to me because he was friends with Jaime and heard us communicate. Like me, Dee had also entered prison when he was sixteen and was serving a life sentence. Both could relate to me on multiple levels right away.

The first lesson they both told me about surviving in prison was to never show fear even if I was afraid in a situation. They told me if I exhibited fear it would result in being challenged and targeted by other prisoners who would perceive me as being weak. If I allowed that to happen at the onset of my incarceration they told me I would have to deal with repeated problems during the duration of my entire incarceration.

Prisoners who showed fear were the ones being extorted, robbed, raped, and assaulted. They were the ones that were disrespected and treated like nothing they said or cared about mattered. In many ways they had no voice and surrendered to everyone around them. They lived a life exponentially more miserable than the experience of already being in prison.

Their advice was very timely because when initially entering prison I was definitely afraid of all the unknowns and concerned about my safety. I learned early on that Jaime and Dee were both well-respected prisoners from the way others interacted with them, so I figured they must have known what they were talking about and followed their advice.

I admit following their advice was not easy at first. With their constant support and encouragement they helped me put on a mask of fearlessness even in the midst of incidents that evoked fear in me like fights suddenly breaking out around me, seeing stabbings, observing arguments that quickly escalated, etc.

Jaime soon introduced me to the other Latino prisoners at the facility we were at who mingled together with us on the yard, walked with us to the cafeteria, and attended a Latino cultural organization meeting that convened twice a month. Most of the men were serving life sentences in prison and several had already served over ten years behind bars.

They would all become instrumental in teaching me more lessons about prison and life in general. Thirty years later I still remain in contact with Dee and several of the other Latino prisoners I met early on. We have also met up again multiple times at different prisons over the years.

CV: What kinds of threats do you encounter every day?

EPJ: Every day in prison anything is liable to happen. Over the years I have seen homicides, stabbings, fights, robberies, people being extorted, and sexual assaults take place. With the exception of homicides, these incidents have occurred at every prison I have been to. Homicides are not as common, but they still occur. They have happened on four occasions at prisons I was at during the time.

In the mid-1990’s I was at a prison where a prisoner was stabbed in his chest and killed in my housing unit and left on the cement floor for nearly a half-hour before being removed by prison staff. During the time the dead prisoner laid there hundreds of prisoners were allowed to walk around his lifeless body to go to and from the cafeteria to eat dinner. Traffic was not stopped nor was the housing unit locked down. Movement just continued as if nothing even happened.

It is incidents like these that illustrate why prisoners must remain so hypervigilant. The volatility of prison requires them to constantly observe their surroundings, watch at the way people are moving or gathering, listen to the different tones of people’s conversations, and be prepared to react quickly if an incident is sparked.

In prison, staring at people too long, inadvertently bumping into people, cutting in the meal line, making unwelcome comments to or about someone else, taking a shower too close to another prisoner, speaking to staff about other prisoners, snitching on other prisoners, touching another prisoner’s belongings without consent, looking into another prisoner’s cell you don’t know when walking down the hallway, can all result in serious conflict or injury.

Prisoners know they can become collateral damage caught in the crossfire of conflicts they had nothing to do with if they do not stay constantly alert. The problem with hypervigilance is that the stress and adrenaline from it triggers cortisol to be released in the body all day long. This results in chronic mental, physical, and emotional exhaustion that can lead to anger and frustration.

Many prisoners who did not already have mental health disorders before entering prison develop them while they are in prison. They end up experiencing anxiety, depression, paranoia, and other problems that necessitate being prescribed medication to help them cope with things. Much of it can be attributed to the hypervigilance and enormous fear and stress they experience daily. There is never a good day in prison.

CV: How would you say, in general, that most prisoners cope with the stress and anxiety of feeling constantly unsafe?

EPJ: By being outwardly rigid. Many prisoners try to avoid smiling as much as possible and only displaying a blank look. They wear this mask whenever they are in the view of others and try to project a posture of always being ready for confrontation. Exuding an illusion of power and self-control every opportunity they can, they masquerade like they are cold and devoid of emotion.

Prisoners also often keep their distance from people they don’t know and try not to initiate conversation with them to give the appearance they don’t need anyone else, particularly help or someone to talk to. (A common phrase I hear people say in prison is, “I don’t need any of these guys around here.”) When people they don’t know speak to them, when possible, they will often respond with only head nods or shrugging their shoulders.

CV: But you feel this is an unhealthy way of responding?

EPJ: What most prisoners don’t understand is that rehearsing these cold, emotionless mannerisms month after month, year after year, can play tricks on their psyche. They can program themselves to believe this is who they really are. At the same time, they can also develop anger and rage inwardly. When they are eventually released they will drag these toxic characteristics into their contacts with family, friends, co-workers, and into their relationships. A litany of problems can emerge when a person has detached themselves from reality and lost their identity.

After having the opportunity to observe this behavior in prison for a period of time it didn’t take me long to recognize how problematic it could become for prisoners later on in their lives. I didn’t understand the full extent of it at the time, but I understood enough to know I did not want to live my life that way.

CV: What did you do once you made that decision?

EPJ: I had to figure out a way to delicately balance giving the appearance of not showing fear with still being my authentic self. I knew I was taking a huge risk, too, because of all I had been told I should not do in prison by the people I had met and were trying to guide me along. I didn’t want them to feel I was ignoring or betraying their advice though.

Ultimately I decided that I was going to allow myself to connect with people using things we had in common and developing trust with those who demonstrated they were worthy of it. Instead of being standoffish, I would give people a chance if they tried talking to me, if they had something constructive to talk about.

If I heard a conversation people were having and I could contribute to it somehow, I would engage with people. I learned if I extended myself to them they would often reciprocate by sharing more of themselves with me. In other words, I allowed myself to be vulnerable, but was selective in the situations I chose to engage with people in.

I broke the prison code about not smiling, avoiding as much eye contact as possible, and entering spaces of uncertainty. I was also told I should avoid speaking to people of different races, religions, and from different cities. Despite the advice I received, I never allowed labels to determine who I spoke to. I was breaking the prison code left and right and did what I felt was best because everything else seemed so bizarre and distorted to me.

I remember one day on the yard at the first prison I was at, a prisoner who I spoke to regularly said to me, “You are always smiling all the time. What’s up with that? Did you forget where you’re at or something? You’re in prison, man.” I paused for a minute and thought about what he said, and then I responded, “No, I didn’t forget who I am.”

CV: How did the prisoner respond to your remark?

EPJ: It began one of the most important conversations of my life. I shared my thoughts and beliefs with him about why I felt it was counterproductive to imprison our minds with toxic thoughts and beliefs that were birthed in the bowels of prison. He gave me a strange look at first but continued listening to what I had to say.

I then told him, “I’m not living my life in here [prison] being robbed of my humanity and true identity and no one else should either. I’m going to think beyond these walls, not trap myself inside them.” We had several more conversations about my views about prison and others began joining the conversations as well.

Rather than receive resistance from people, they began to realize what I was saying made sense. As I began to read and study more about prison, social isolation, and struggle, I incorporated what I learned into my messages and was able to convince more people to listen. My knowledge about what I was learning helped me teach others new things and help them grow.

As they grew, they felt better about themselves and how they were evolving, and my approach to living in prison continued spreading. I have shared it with prisoners at every single prison I have been. To this day when I see prisoners again I haven’t seen in years they always say things like, “Man, you’re still smiling after all these years, that’s what’s up!” or “I’m still following your advice and making sure I don’t lose myself in this place.”

One of the most frequent comments I now hear from prisoners who meet me for the first time is, “I can’t believe you’ve been locked up 30 years. You don’t talk, act, or think like it.” They also say if they didn’t know better they would think I entered prison recently because I know so much about current events and the way I conduct myself. They add, “A lot of guys who have been locked up as long as you are messed up.”

CV: What are some of the other strategies you use to maintain a healthy, pro-social outlook?

EPJ: I have a wonderful network of family and friends who have steadfastly helped and supported me during my incarceration. They have visited me, spoken to me on the phone regularly, written me, and ensured that I remain connected with the outside world.

I also knew early on that if I wanted to survive and remain whole, I would have to educate myself. Not just in regard to the process of transitioning to adulthood, but in finding resources that would teach me how to cope with incarceration and the trauma and despair it carries.

This has involved extensive research, and, at a later point, participating in every therapeutic program available. I’ve engaged in therapy with psychologists and social workers for the past eleven years.

CV: Was participating in therapy difficult for you to do?

EPJ: For nineteen years, I regrettably allowed the stigmas associated with mental health treatment to prevent me from receiving its benefits. The time came, however, when I made the decision to seek out the skills and insight of professionals to help me navigate my life and the challenges before me.

In this process, I’ve learned that asking for help is a sign of strength and courage, not weakness. Society generally encourages males to be totally self-reliant and not allow themselves to be vulnerable in any way. They are also not granted cultural permission to examine their inner lives, and are misled to believe it makes them look weak if they do. This is especially true in prison. This is detrimental and distorted thinking, and it can result in toxic masculinity, dysfunctional relationships, and a distorted worldview.

I have also taken the opportunity to seek the advice of therapists, and get their feedback about my views regarding different issues. I have experienced moments when I felt I was drowning in the abyss of the abnormal, inextricable stress and isolation of life behind bars. At times, this has made it difficult for me to gauge my growth and development. The feedback of professionals has been an important resource and barometer to help me stay centered and determine how I am measuring up compared to the healthy development of others in the spectrum of life. Many things have changed in society during the past three decades, so I want to ensure I am making choices that will help me achieve the best outcomes possible.

I believe we are all a work in progress, and that we should constantly excavate our lives and develop ways to combat the fear, trauma, and other impediments that keep us anchored to a painful past. Rather than lay buried under it, we can build something constructive from its ruins.

CV: What kinds of classes have you been able to participate in related to mental and emotional wellbeing, and what kinds of things do you read to assist you with this?

EPJ: In addition to participating in individual therapy I have taken group therapy and classes about meditation, healthy boundaries, grief and loss, anger management, depression, conflict resolution, character development, critical thinking skills, and others. I have also read numerous self-help books about communication, conflict resolution, anger, forgiveness, relationships, cognitive behavioral therapy, and developing pro-social skills.

I enjoy reading “Psychology Today” monthly and have read scores of books, studies and peer-reviewed journal articles over the years that deal with brain development, adolescent development, early childhood development, personality development, trauma, identity, etc. I have also researched treatment of mental health disorders such as depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder, and the adverse psychological effects that incarceration, social isolation, and loneliness can have on people.

Another great source of information about mental and emotional wellness for me has been watching summits, conferences, debates, and panel discussions about the subjects on C-SPAN and listening to interviews with experts on various shows that are broadcasted on NPR (e.g., “TED Talk Radio Hour,” “To the Best of Our Knowledge,” “The Takeaway,” etc.).

CV: This is beginning to sound like something more than a survival strategy–rather, a mission.

EPJ: One of the things I tell other prisoners is that nothing positive in my life could have happened without the help of others. I want them to understand that people need our help and connection, regardless of how that’s viewed in prison. It is a natural part of life, because we are social beings. We can’t carry dysfunctional thoughts in our minds or we will become those thoughts.

Research shows that people who are psychopathic do not help others. They also have deficits in recognizing fear and other emotions in people’s faces. I share this with prisoners so that they recognize that the prison code which encourages people to avoid others and discourages helping people is dangerous and they should reject it if they don’t want to exhibit psychopathic behavior.

This message gets people’s attention. Somewhere in the midst of it all, I capture their interest and they recognize me as someone who has walked the walk and not just talked the talk. It makes them receptive to listening and wanting to learn how they can do with their lives what I have done with my own.

 

Part 3 of this interview coming soon.

Efren Paredes, Jr. is a Michigan prisoner and subject of the new multi-channel documentary film installation, “Half Truths and Full Lies.” He is also a blogger, social justice advocate, proud father, and loving husband. You can learn more about Efren by visiting www.fb.com/Free.Efren and www.tinyurl.com/Efren1016.