Letters to Julia - End

Dear Julia,

There must be a better way. Prison has been my saving grace, don’t get me wrong. I came here with a lot of guilt and shame, but here I have learned how to overcome my problems without drugs or alcohol or unhealthy relationships or men’s validation or any vice at all, really. My addiction to drugs and men brought me here. I don’t blame anyone else because it was me who made the terrible choices.

There’s still a problem though. It’s the victims. Not just Bill, but my children and the rest of my family. They have all suffered as a result of my actions and it wasn’t fair to them. Sure, it was my fault, but the fact that my punishment may have been deserved doesn’t help them. Isn’t that what it was all about? Justice for victims?

My long prison sentence created more victims and more work for the state, rather than helping the ones that already existed. I would do anything to make this right for them. My kids are well, thankfully, and I talk to them often. We are healing. I will do anything I can to help them get past this so they can be as healthy and happy as they should be. My mom and sister still seem lost without me and the kids involved in their daily lives. They are able to talk to some of the kids still, and that helps, but it’s still hard. If there was something I could do for my victim Bill, I’d do it. I’m working on a letter apologizing for what I did, and I hope it helps. He may feel good about me being in prison, but I doubt it. I wish there were better alternatives to reduce the impact of crime without creating more victims. I wish the years given to me made sense. I don’t understand why treatment or time off for good behavior aren’t options for me. I think I’d get the most use out of them. Why didn’t I get offered a plea deal or a chance at a suspended sentence which I have seen so many other people get? I heard that my DA was difficult, and that’s why, but that’s not a good enough reason. Other people with similar crimes get those options every day. It should be the same for all. We are mothers, and our kids are out there, and they still need us.

There’s got to be a better way.

Sincerely,

Crystal A.

Crystal A. is currently incarcerated at Oregon’s women’s prison, Coffee Creek Correctional Facility.

Letters to Julia - The Beginning

Dear Julia,

It’s not easy telling you my story. It feels like I’m opening the doors of judgement again. It didn’t go so well for me the last time when I was judged for the crime I committed. This story goes beyond that. But my story isn’t about me, it’s a cause. I used to look down on women like me who were addicted to drugs and got themselves locked up. I honestly never thought it’d happen to me.

But here I am, in Coffee Creek, with hundreds of women. After four years, I have realized that they are just like me: moms, wives, daughters, and sisters with loved ones who desperately miss them and need them home. It’s really, really hard on those families. The state must be forking out millions just to house us. I just can’t help but wonder – is there a better way? We all have very similar stories: the wrong man, the bad choices, the hard circumstances, and drugs. We were not necessarily bad people. Lost, confused, broken, but not bad.

I think we need to tell our stories. I believe it’s part of our responsibility to the public; a way to give back to the community. I hope someone benefits from my story. The biggest reward I could get is that it stopped another woman from making the same wrong choices I made. But I wish that my story can continue to educate and inform those may not know any better and help them understand that we are all just people, and together I pray we find a better way.

Sincerely,

Crystal.

Crystal A. is currently incarcerated at Oregon’s women’s prison, Coffee Creek Correctional Facility.

The Good Teacher - Zuleyma's Story

Zuleyma was known as a “good teacher” to her students and colleagues during the years she taught K-12. But her career in education came to an abrupt halt when she was arrested for selling drugs. An abusive partner had gradually come to have more and more control over Zuleyma, pressuring her to do whatever it took to keep her partner happy. That included selling drugs and becoming cut off from family and friends. In this video, Zuleyma explains what happened next.

Interview and videography by Greta Smith.

The Good Teacher - Chapter 3: Lost and Healing

By Zuleyma Figueroa

READ CHAPTER 1: ROLE MODELS AND SUCCESS; CHAPTER 2: CONTROL AND ABUSE

For the first two years, I was angry and bitter and refused to accept that this had become my life. I especially resented the fact that I had become a felon and was sent to prison for something I felt I wasn’t at fault for. My world stopped and I lived in shame and embarrassment from my name being in the news on local channels as a drug dealing teacher gone bad. In addition, my friends disappeared and did not want to be around someone who was in prison.

I lost my house and material possessions. My family members helped me with everything they could, but some of them lived in Canada and it was difficult for them to keep in contact with me. Eventually I felt so lonely and lost and didn’t know how to begin confronting my situation. I was scared and trying to figure out how to survive in prison. My friends disappearing was a hard lesson because I thought people would care about me, but life showed me that people will fail you when you face difficult situations.

I arrived at Coffee Creek Correctional Facility for women in June 2012. I went through intake where women are separated and classified. The ones with less severe crimes and a release date of four years or less go to the minimum-security side. The ones with more severe crimes and life sentences go to the medium-security side. After spending a month on intake, I was finally sent to minimum where I was given a bunk with a thin, crappy mattress, a pillow, one blanket, one thin bar of soap, a small cheap bottle of shampoo, a small toothbrush, and some baking soda that I was supposed to use for toothpaste. The space in the bunk areas are very restricted. About three feet away from each other. You need to have money on your account to buy canteen, which are approved items of food and hygiene products.

I started to work for the canteen warehouse at the Salem headquarters. I learned how to operate a forklift and to unload pallets of canteen items for all the prisons in the state of Oregon, men and women. I did inventory of items, and entered information of popular items sold in prison such as shoes, clothing, makeup, food, and drinks. I worked Monday through Friday from 6:30 AM to 3:30 PM and was paid $72 a month, which was the top pay in the prison. I did this for one year.

In the afternoon, I would help women prepare for their GED test and felt very grateful that these women are now getting a basic education to better their future. My contributions were very worthwhile because I knew they were going back to their children and would be able to get better jobs to support them.

I worked on myself as well and got into a few coping skill classes to help with my codependency issues. I also managed to get some therapy regarding the psychological abuse that I had experienced in my relationship. In addition, I found running to be very therapeutic and got very good at it. It also helped me release a great deal of stress and worries. I took every class I could to better myself so that I would have an opportunity to work upon my release outside. 

I never wanted to know anything about my ex partner.  I had finally felt free from her control and free of being scared. One morning I woke up and said to myself, “What was I thinking? I lost everything and I am in prison.” This actually made me work harder to become a better person. In fact, I took trainings for certifications like CPR, food handlers, hazmat, forklift, facility maintenance training. In addition, I was part of physical activities such as the 5K marathon and creating physical circuits to help other women find healing through physical fitness. I meditated about my life in prayer and gratefulness, becoming more humble and appreciative of the world.

After a year of working for canteen, I applied to physical plant where women are trained for trades such as electrician, welding, carpentry, landscaping, and painting. I was part of the electrician’s crew and work in this for the remaining time at Coffee Creek. I met so many women in bad circumstances that sent them to prison, like domestic abuse, being homeless, and mental illness that had caused addictions to drugs or alcohol. Many of the women genuinely had remorse for their crimes.

Zuleyma’s story continues in an upcoming post - Chapter 4: Making a Positive Life

790 Days - Part Eleven - The end of a cycle

Isabelle S.
20559660

I’m coming almost full-circle to completing a year of my life, blogged monthly within these posts. And within this context, I’m starting a new year, too. I’m starting again with school, and I’m starting again with new possibility. This is where I was back in 2013, when I first moved to Oregon - an incoming freshman going into a private liberal arts school, waiting to see what an education could or would bring, only with more desperation on the line.

I’ll be coming in with a year of school under my belt, so I’m no longer a freshman. But the point remains the same. I don’t believe many people reach the opportunity in their lives to simply press ‘redo’; to go back to the very same place in which they were before some seemingly fatal life decisions were made, and to get the choice to act again. And this seems to be where I find myself now.

It could also be that I misunderstand the situation, and perhaps this is what it’s like to fully step into your life again - perhaps many women come to this crossroads, where they come face-to-face with the same situation where they would have acted differently years ago. And that’s the thing about incarceration, when it’s done as it’s meant to be - people just come out different. We come into the same lives we used to inhabit, but now we wear a different skin. And that’s why sometimes, there’s no better adjective to describe this whole thing than simply being weird. It’s dichotomous. You - me - I’m split in two. I experience life through multiple filters, depending on which history of mine I’m tuning into. And very specifically, it’s split in half by my time at Coffee Creek.

So, as I start this new year, in the wonderful position I have, I get to see it through this lens. I get to see it as the culmination of the work I’ve done in prison, and as the second chance I believe every human being deserves. It’s only when we put ourselves back where we first started that we are able to see just how much we’ve grown.

And how beautiful an opportunity that is.

And, if I can say so at this point, thank you for reading any part of my story that you have. Hopefully it grants a little bit of insight into the fragmented nature of change, and of our justice system. I know my life has shifted tremendously from it, and I only look forward to seeing how this develops.

I’ll see you on the other side, my friend.

The writer underwent two years at Coffee Creek Correctional Facility in Oregon, convicted for charges directly related to an active drug addiction.

Payton's Story

Payton describes how prison re-traumatized her, triggered memories of an abusive behavioral modification program that she survived as a teenager, and crushed her soul. Her experiences in prison and the lack of trust and resentment that prison fostered in her has made life back in the community a struggle. She believes that there is not enough education for young people about how the criminal system functions and the grave consequences that can result from seemingly small actions.