The Different Cultures.

This was the only time in my life where I was able to live in an environment where everyone knew everyone else.  In prison the social structure is entirely different than it is on the outside.  One would think it is because of the nature of those in prison that makes it different, but that is not necessarily the case.  I've heard it is very similar to living in military barracks, but I've never experienced that, so I can't say.  From my experience, without really having to think about it, my mind was keeping track of as many people as it could all the time.  It was quite instinctual.  I did something different than most in that situation because I made a conscious decision to apply the calculating and analytical part of my mind to the task.  It was something I was quite familiar with already having had to do it as a child; I like to keep track of everything.  I like power. 

 

You cannot imagine all the shenanigans that go on in such a hyper masculinized community.  Some of those cats were straight up wild.  People always called me wild too, so I guess I fit in.  Some of those guys were annoying even to the guys in their own gangs.  I had to have been annoying.  Race really had nothing to do with it.  Humans come in all varieties.  I ended up being cool with quite a few gangsters over the years. 

When I was first released from prison I used to complain bitterly about being out. People would always look at me like I had lost my mind because I was often heard saying "I would rather be in prison!" People never understood this, not even my wife at the time, and we had always been really close. I cannot stand to be lied to.  You see there are some major social differences between a close quarter environment and one where no one is held accountable like our current society. One of my biggest complaints back then was all the lying everyone does. On the outside people tell lies like it is going out of style.  Everywhere I went people would just say whatever they wished, to get their way, to appease others, because they were afraid to tell the truth.  Their list of reasons was endless, but so was my disdain. 

On the outside you never know who is going to stab you in the back. Not necessarily physically, but metaphorically.  You see, this rarely if ever happens in prison; at least it didn’t in B.C.C. In Booneville a liar is shamed to the point that his physical person is in jeopardy if he chooses to live that way.  In close quarters, with almost everyone hyper masculinized, nothing is more shameful than being beat up and made to look weak in front of everyone, which is exactly what happens if your lying causes suffering. You can't just do some mean ignorant crap to someone, lie, cheat, or steal, then just go home and close the door.  You can’t let it happen to you either.  In there you have to sleep in the same room, or same house, no matter what happens.  There is no privacy.  You can't take a shit without someone talking to you. 

Sounds counter intuitive huh? The one place where there is nothing but criminals and yet no one lies much. You see, in there, if you are caught up telling lies, within a day or two, everyone else knows about it. You should see what happens if word gets out that a pedophile is in town; the whole prison knows within a day.  That kind of info gets passed along like wild fire through all the ranks, which means a thousand individuals know within hours.  Pedophiles are a great excuse to let out some rage.  There is no bad karma for getting at such a person.  As a new guy I had no idea how in depth the social networking goes, but once I was established it was a powerful tool.  Probably the most powerful knowledge available to me. 

This is important to realize. All those inmates in B.C.C. were for the most part completely ignorant of what was really going on; none of them were consciously initiating these rules of conduct. None of them wrote the rules of prison etiquette.  To them it just was what it was.  It was a huge mass of unconscious behavior, but it had very specific rules.  It was a super organism.   A great many of those guys in there could not even read, yet their social skills were on par. There was not some master mind controlling us, or a leader calling the shots, decreeing who does what.

It was a simple fact that no one wants to be in the presence of a liar and the main difference between prison and being out of prison, is that in prison one is usually punished  immediately for lying.  Honesty is critical when your surroundings are dangerous because one needs to be able to depend on the word of another.

Now, one might argue that no one wants to be subjected to violence either, and this is true, but the majority of those inmates were raised violently themselves and were hyper masculinized on top of it, so violence was natural to them. Violence is a language all of it's own.  It's a social tool.  It wasn’t prison making them be violent.  Violence isn't seen as weakness like lying is.  Society taught us violence, not prison.  It’s also true that if violence is used outside of the rules, if it violates prison etiquette, consequences immediately follow. Even in prison there are limits to what kind of violence can occur.  To just go beat someone up for no reason, gets you beat up, if for no other reason, than just on principle alone. Karma is fast acting.  When everyone knows your business, you cannot offer up lame excuses, you are always held accountable for what you do.  There simply is nowhere to hide, except in the hole.  It's not even safe in there really because other guys can heckle a person into insanity. 

The worst thing to have happen in prison is to lose allies; to be all alone.  In a close social network, allies are the most important thing a person can have. And breaking any of the social rules strips one of allies immediately. The skinniest guy in B.C.C. was a guy we called Chicken, and it was rare to see him in the chow hall.  Chicken was pole thin and ugly as a fella could be.  He usually went without food because he was a pedophile. No one will ally with a pedophile.  He couldn't go to the chow hall because he had no allies to protect him.  Chow hall could be really sketchy.  Those with no allies are the ones preyed upon the most by the majority.  It's just like chickens in a coop.  All humans everywhere establish pecking order; it provides immediate gratification for social wrong doing.

It is a much better way to live, being held accountable. Once one is connected to the social network it is much safer.  The guards never really provided much safety.  Once one knows the rules and follows them it is legitimately safe even though one would be literally surrounded by gangsters.  I can honestly say for the first 5 or 6 years that I was out of prison, prison was 100 times less stressful socially. In prison the rules are well defined.  Out here, it’s totally hectic, stressful, chaotic, and utterly dishonest. People can be straight up evil, then simply go home and turn on the TV like it never happened.  The rules seem to change with each new individual one meets.  With millions of individuals free of a social network, they go unchecked.  Most people just refuse to look behind a person’s façade.  In prison a façade is difficult to maintain. 

It is probably hard to see how this creates a much less stressful environment if one has never experienced it. Your probably envisioning all the violence, the cacophony, or thinking you would be getting raped all the time or something. But in B.C.C. a guy had to have a good reason to do violence without being punished themselves. In prison one can go about their day, routinely, without the fear of being back stabbed, or lied to, or cheated by those that are in close quarters; that is, as long as one has a solid social network.

Imagine waking up tomorrow, and not having to worry about anyone lying to you simply because you have a group of friends? Now of course there are exceptions to this rule, and I am not saying that lying didn't happen; it does not matter where you are there are always people of low character, but at the same time everyone knows those rules too, and if they don't, they learn them really fast.  It is important to realize in one's self how powerful that fear of social rejection is when it comes to changing.  That is the reason one learns so fast in those situations.  They fear being alone.  Maybe it’s not that no one lied, but that everyone was held accountable for doing so. Everyone was punished for it. 

Even the seemingly dumbest of human beings tended to be incredibly smart socially; it is the reason why we have "superior" brains in relation to the rest of the animal kingdom.  We are highly social beings. In these tight living quarters the brain comes alive.  Much of it is unconscious.  The brain does it whether one thinks about it or not.  It’s like doing something one was meant to do, but being aware of it.  Prison etiquette is much like what you see on TV if you watch Italian Mafia movies. Violence is systematic.  Violence is condoned and being weak is shamed, which means socially it is acceptable to be violent and it is extremely unacceptable to be weak, or maybe it is better to say soft.

One must justify their violence within the prison etiquette.  More often than not, cats lower in the pecking order had to ask permission to be violent.  A guy would literally have to ask permission to fight.  It can ruin months of your life messing with the wrong cat.  Everyone is replaceable all the time.  If a gang leader is not handling business he gets replaced.  The lower one is in power, the easier he is replaced.  To try and explain all of the rules would be extremely complicated. Every situation is unique.  The idea that I want to get across is that this way of socializing is extremely effective and comfortable. Imagine a society where people rarely lie, can you even do it? Liars should be sent to prison, it would break them of the habit real fast.

I bet the alcoholic down the street beating his kid at night would not be doing that if we all knew about it.  If everywhere he went people gave him the stink eye he wouldn't be acting that way.   If he had to sleep in a room with all the other adults he wouldn't be doing that crap.  But most people don't even know it is happening because his blinds are drawn, the curtains are pulled.  Since he works a full time job, and he goes to church on Sunday, he must be a nice guy.  He must love his family.  We see him at the park watching junior play baseball, so he must be a 'productive' member of society.

Tucked away safely in his house he can commit any atrocity he wishes and we might never know. This is happening to children as I write this, as you read it; it is always happening.  A woman can just move to a different town or city and no one knows they now have a pedophile in their midst preying on their children. If these individuals were shamed everywhere they went, they would cease that behavior.  Their own brains would do it for them due to the shame.  Shame changes the wiring of the brain. 

This is why the new guy is shunned and tested.  This is why it is so hard on the new guy.  The social organism has no idea what this new being in its midst is, so it seeks to find out. It often starts with pokes and prods.  Like the guy trying to tax me for stepping in his area, or the guy getting in my space at church; what is this new thing it wants to know.  The new guy has to conform or be discarded. 

I have known a lot of people in life who do not handle business, that do not take care of their children, and yet everyone just goes about their lives like it doesn't happen. People still greet them with a smile, shake their hands, talk about how nice they are.  I’ve seen people who abuse their children get elected to school boards, who are elders in churches, and own successful businesses.  They are everywhere.  This is one of the primary reasons our culture is broken.  This would never happen in prison because that individual would be made to answer for their wrong immediately, forever after, and would be stripped of all power if it continued.  Better yet, they would never do it at all because they would know everyone else would know what they were doing.  Not out here though.  Out here people can neglect their children as much as they wish and everyone else just pretends it isn't happening.  The blinds are closed, the curtains are drawn, the TV is on. 

Messed up huh? And yes, one can say rapes happen in there, and many other violent things, but these things were put in there by society.  Those kinds of things were happening to those people before they even knew what prison was.  That is why they ended up in prison in the first place. It is possible though, that the social environment of the Booneville Correctional Center was healthier than the one in which I find myself living now, safer even. I have no idea who the people living in the houses next to me are. I live in a world where preachers still rape children and get away with it.  In prison I was literally surrounded by people thrown under the bus in life, yet in a very weird way they were all taking care of each other.  I know for a fact it is way more stressful living out here than it was in there. Always has been.

But, damn, I like girls!  It's like quitting drinking soda after having drank it for years; we forget how good it feels.  Or being fat for a long time then being skinny; we never remember while we are fat how great it feels.  You can't know how sketchy it is out here until you have lived somewhere where you are being held socially accountable at all times. As always, I had to learn the hard way.  

I got moved out of B Bay.  I was forever a chess piece.  They moved me to the smaller bay because of how I kept to myself.  That is the kind they wanted in there.  There were a few other white guys in there.  Two of the most influential blacks in the house, possibly the whole prison, were in that bay too.  It gave me courage having people in the bay to talk to.  Couple of those guys were actually smart.  I started flexing my wings a bit you could say.

Two House was the last time in my life I ever took something that wasn't mine.  It was immediate karma.  The lesson was learned instantly because of the social ramifications.  I was rapidly learning how the social networks worked.  There was a white dude in another bay that was always rubbing it my face that he had stuff from the commissary.  Drove me crazy.  He went to the hole, maybe he had a visit or something, so I went into his bay when the guard was down the hall and starting bending the door of his locker back.  Before I could even really get my fingers behind the metal edge gangsters were jumping in the mix.

That right there let me know that I was now in over my head.  You see, I didn't have a social network yet.  Next thing I know both top and bottom corners of the locker door are peeled completely out, and this dude’s locker has become a free for all.  I didn't even get anything out of the damn thing.  The gangsters that jumped in on the locker are not ones I want to be dealing with.  I've just broken rules without any social support.  I did not realize that so many others would just jump right in and clean out the dudes stuff.  I did not realize how swiftly thieves are dealt with. 

Just so happens that a dude who was also in the hole had been keeping his stuff in that white boys locker.  We could only have so much of certain things, so this white boys locker was back up storage for some gangsters in house business.  Hustling is a full time job for some in there.  They take it very serious.  He wanted his stuff back.  Not the white boy, but the gangster.  I had jumped into a hornets nest. 

It was always interesting to me how the blacks seemed so united against whites, but in reality they had their own power struggles going on.  Without a lot of fist fighting they were always struggling for power.  There are so many different gangs it's impossible to even try to keep track.  Even gangs had different cliques.  I could not under any circumstance tell this guy who else had been in the locker.  I would be instantly quadrupling my enemies.  Honestly, I didn't even know the dudes' names even if I wanted to tell.  Even worse, I had none of his stuff to give back.  I was going to have to answer for this.  There won't be much sleep until it is dealt with. 

I'm still not fluent in gangster speak.  This dude means business too, so his language is all kinds of flamboyant.  He's bouncing around, he's acting all excited.  He wants his stuff back.  He's coming back to get his stuff.  Says he’s giving me time to come up with it.  I got an hour.  I'm already resigned to going to the hole. My locker was already in order.  I'm already booted up.  This won't be the first time I've had my ass whooped. 

I know for a fact he is not coming back alone.  He is gathering troops.  I don't have troops, but I have an extra padlock.  I asked one of the other white guys if they had an extra lock I could use.  He handed one over.  He was sorry he couldn't help out, but he couldn't get into the mix.  I didn't blame him.  I doubt he could fight anyways.  It was my fault so I was going to deal with it.  I went back to my bunk and sat down.  I'm much better at waiting than I used to be.  I've got a padlock in each hand with my middle finger through the ring.  I'm going to knock at least one of them out.  At least one of them is leaving the bay needing stitches. 

Sitting on my bunk I can see the door.  Soon as I saw him come around the edge of the frame I was on my feet.  I moved out into the isle.  It's no good getting caught between the bunks.  He's got six other dudes with him.  I just stood there with my hands at my side waiting. 

He wants to know where his stuff is.  I tell him I don't have it.  He's running his mouth about how much pull he has.  I tell him that if he has so much pull then he shouldn't need to ask me where his stuff is.  All the blacks in that bay threw out my name and didn't say shit about what they kept.  They were putting it all on the white boy.  I told him I didn't know his stuff was in that locker or I wouldn't have hit it.  Told him I wasn't trying to fuck him over.  

Behind me is Miniman.  He has the last bunk.  He's been in Booneville for over four years.  He's the head of the Muslim brotherhood.  Probably the most powerful black in the prison.  When I called out this gangster on why he's asking me about who has his stuff Miniman did that mmmhhmm thing that black people do.  Miniman knew who had that shit, yet this gangsters asking me. 

Then he says, "Why you got padlocks in your hands?"  I just looked at him and said, "Why is there six of you?"

And just like that it was over.  Dude turned and walked away.  I didn't want to fight, but if he was going to put me to it he was going to eat a padlock ring.  His boys were running their mouths as they left.  I'm not planning on sleeping.  I learned my lesson.  I never took anything from anyone again.  I did not want to be the guy in prison no one associated with.  The one who made everyone watch their back.  I went and apologized to dude for doing that to his locker.  I lost a lot of clout that day.  It took me awhile to recover from that mistake.  I couldn't be trusted for awhile.  I could see it in people's eyes. 

There was no trial, no judge, no waiting.  No cops, or caseworkers.  The moment I started peeling that locker door the sentence had been rendered.  The day that cat got out of the hole and realized his stuff was gone; that shit was getting handled.  I couldn't hide.  I couldn't lie.  Not if I didn't want to be considered a bitch the rest of my stay.  That wasn't an option.  The accountability of a compact social environment had an immediate effect on my psyche.  I might not have been able to see the invisible strings connecting everything, but I knew they were there. 

I saw for the first time in my life, clearly, the effects of my actions on my immediate surroundings.  For the first time I realized how important seemingly minor acts are.  How they can travel distant without any physical sign of having traveled.  Maybe safe isn't the right word.  It's predictable, and predictable seems safer.  In prison one can predict with much greater accuracy the consequences of one's actions.  In prison everything is very black and white, both racially and socially.  It's all very simple, even though it is complicated by the number of individuals.  There is no messing around.  Living in close proximity with other humans creates a different culture all together.  It creates social accountability.  

It was also the first time I saw spiritual karma right before my eyes so to speak.  Prior to harming someone else my life in Two House was just fine.  I was moving up.  Soon as I crossed a moral/ethical line though, smash; karma right to the face. My life of crossing that line had come to an end.  I wasn't going to be like them.