*Quotes and personal details are omitted to protect the identity of those mentioned in the article.
A small cat sat next to the fence and looked up at the line of men next to it. One dark-skinned man smiled and leaned down to give it a quick pat before falling back into formation. A prisoner by all definitions of the word, trapped by what the state has set for him, but not destroyed by what many have come to call the "Alcatraz of the South."
My only idea of what prison was like was from what television has allowed me, heavy shackles, hot cells and all. Without having a loved one in the system, the media does not allow an eye behind bars. I had the opportunity to visit Louisiana State Penitentiary, Angola and Louisiana Correctional Institute for Women where I met prisoners whose lives have been transformed in a way I will never fully understand.
They passed by me single-file and shook my hand — polite and respectful — not the drudges of society I have been led to believe they would be, but men I see as souls desiring reformation.
Awana Ministries runs Hannah's Gift at LCIW, and Malachi Dads at Angola, programs that teach inmates how to be Godly parental figures and work to give them a sense of purpose and being.
A large man shook my hand last and told me he was blessed to have my team there. His smile stretched wide, exposing teeth only slightly crooked but well-maintained.
All of the inmate mentors in the programs are serving life sentences, so there is little chance the inmates will see outside of the bars and barbed wire they have grown accustomed to. Each day is structured by uniforms and time spent melting under the Louisiana sun, a bleak life that these prisoners have yearned to break free from.
They jostled each other around a bit and talked about their recent readings in James, quoting quick verses and searching their minds for a favorite.
When the last living family member one inmate had contact with passed away, officers feared she would try to take her life. Hannah’s Gift saved her. She had found a peace and acceptance through God.
They were polite.
One staff member shared that the mentorship program allows inmates to act as a parental figure, help and pour into other inmates when they cannot have that relationship with their own children.
They were honest about their pasts and the deep regret they held from their mistakes.
One man at Angola shared with us that he believes prison is where he belongs. So many of the inmates grew up in harsh environments surrounded by negative influences that almost ensured they would end up behind bars. He said had met some of the most influential men who turned his life around behind bars. This was the low he had to reach in order to find God and be a better father.
They believe they are where God wants them.
Offenders that complete the Malachi Dads year-long program are given the opportunity to see their children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews face to face. Angola hosts a carnival for the kids and for that day the inmates are not seen as men who have committed murder, robbery or other federal offenses, they are simply fathers. Fathers who hold their little girl's hand as she rides on the carousel, give their sons dating advice and share hugs.
They are not people I fear, but people who have peeled my eyes open to see beyond the rough exteriors.
These men work hard all year to prove themselves worthy of just a couple hours with their kids. They care so much about being a positive influence in their life and for the kids to know they are loved.
He told me this is what's right and that all he cares about is that he is still loved.
While there is still violence and dark things that happen behind bars, seeing it with my own eyes gave me a better view of our prison system.
They put their hands on each other's backs and prayed silently, for what I am not sure.
With programs like this as well as others to earn degrees, learn vocational skills and sober up, for many incarceration is necessary to turn their life around. If inmates have the right attitude and prove that they will behave, they are given amazing opportunities to grow.
He looked back at me and grinned before holding up a quick wave, and for that moment, surrounded by inmates, I forgot I was in a prison.
