A
dmittedly, I arrive at Estrella Jail skeptical and scared. I am to attend one of a series of five workshops, two weeks prior to the performance. I know that approximately 1,000 inmates, all female, are housed here. While some are in for murder and arson, the women participating in the arts program are minimum- or medium-security inmates, many arrested for drug offenses. Some face weapons charges. Others were arrested for prostitution or theft. They are, as yet, “unsentenced” (the word emblazoned across their black-and-white suits), awaiting overburdened courts to deem them innocent (the best-possible and prayed-for outcome), grant them probation (the next-best thing), or send them to prison for years (the option they dread). Pregnant women who’ve been sentenced are also housed at Estrella, until they have their child. Then, they’re sent to prison. After entering the large, flat, fenced-in building on a dusty plot off Interstate 10 at 19th Avenue (also the location of Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s tent prisons), I’m ushered into a classroom where about 20 women sit crossed-legged on the carpeted floor, their eyes glued to Fatimah Halim, who I learn is the director of Journey Home. A former New Yorker and backup singer to Laura Nyro, Halim also recorded with Jimi Hendrix. Her résumé could fill the room, but here’s the short of it: She launched and directs a program for Phoenix youth called Rites of Passage, produces books, plays, films and special events to empower women, as well as co-hosts TV and radio shows, many of which have garnered prestigious awards, both regionally and nationally. Her focus with the inmates is on creative writing and storytelling. Halim’s words are carefully composed and clearly enunciated and I construe she’s helping “the ladies,” as she calls them, prepare to perform poetry they’ve penned in class. “There is a dimension that you carry,” she instructs, “that gives each of you depth. You are the teacher,” she says. “Yes, you. When you speak, you offer wisdom that the folks outside aren’t getting. You are privileged. Speak from that godliness. Period. Do your poem as a teacher. Generate healing energy for the audience.” One of the older women is stifling tears, can’t hold back, and starts to cry. A young girl seated next to her—who looks shy of 20—gently puts her arm around the woman, who contains herself, and the class continues. Kristie (last name use is forbidden), a 36-year-old 38 Wavelength
mother of six with wild curls and a cautious smile, who is awaiting trial on drug and weapon-possession charges, rises to read her poem, “The Image in the Mirror.” When I look in the mirror, what do I see? I see the wounded child looking back at me. My reflection of my past, the hurt and the pain, I find myself searching for who is the blame. Empty memories I have from my parents’ neglect But truly, I can’t blame them for the long-term effect. My shortcomings were my decisions to make; I’m the one responsible for my future—my fate. So I look for my healing to my trauma, you see I want to be better for you and for me. Kristie’s poem is a response to the workshop’s main curriculum, which is about archetypes—psychological patterns derived from historical roles that influence behavior. Archetypes were popularized by the teachings of Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung, who proposed that if these patterns are recognized and faced, rather than feared and denied, one can more easily overcome destructive behavior, leading to personal and spiritual empowerment. This is deep and profound work and, therefore, an appointed psychologist is an integral part of the Journey Home program. The program focuses on four primary archetypes: wounded child, prostitute, saboteur and victim.