Prison Inmates Tell Their Stories Through Theater

By Eva Trieger

SAN DIEGO — Thanks to Covid-19 many of us experienced “lockdown” in our homes, yet we can’t begin to imagine what life is like for those who are truly locked down and sequestered from polite society. That is, until the Playwrights Project teamed up with San Diego State University, nine years ago, to bring us Beyond Prison Walls. This innovative, honest and empathetic showcase brought us into the hearts and minds of those who’ve served time at Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility and Centinela State Prison. Over three nights, their catharsis, confusion, and complexities were shared via Zoom and we were privileged to hear their stories and share their epiphanies, thanks to the collaboration of Cecelia Kouma and Peter Cirino.

My colleague, Eric George Tauber, had the good fortune to review Thursday night’s program  I had the great fortune to see both Friday and Saturday’s offerings and they will stay with me for a good long while. I was privileged to see many of the writers who were formerly incarcerated share their intensely personal stories about their time “inside” and “outside.” The audience was treated to brutally honest interior thoughts about what it takes to live through a prison sentence and attempt to return to “normalcy.” In many cases, it seemed the greater challenge was fitting back into society. Through each vignette, the audience learned more about the hurdles one faces in and out of prison, and what true grit and determination are required, not only to survive incarceration but to find one’s place in the world after release.  It is daunting!

On Friday night, I was welcomed into Ruben Radillo’s Pathetic and Wonderful Life. With his approaching release date, the inmate experienced a sense of anxiety. He felt he was growing during his time in prison and wasn’t quite ready to return to Hell.  The exchange between Billy and Rudy reveals that Rudy is afraid that on the outside he won’t experience the sympathy, empathy, and compassion he is anticipating.  He has worked on himself and “loves the person that I’ve become.” But will he get that same affirmation on the outside?

The next piece, written by Jamel Burt is entitled Above All. In this short play, a man has been released from prison and attempts to find his way in a new world.  He has been away for a while and doesn’t recognize this foreign world in which he finds himself. He is shocked by the change in teens–”blue hair, smoking pot, gauge earrings…” He tries to learn the lay of the land, but it is elusive. After being away for some time, he is unsure of how the world operates. He is aware that the world seems unsafe and sketchy. “I seen a bunch of mental illness out there…” He wants to avoid the formerly bad influences, yet he is unsure where to turn. As a man recently released he finds no safe haven and lots of confusion.

A third piece was written by Isabella Quevedo. My initial viewing of the piece left me sad and I found the dialogue raw and harsh.  After hearing Quevedo’s talkback on Saturday night’s panel discussion, I understood where she was coming from and why she wrote her monologue as she had.  Her monologue, entitled My Kitchen Table revealed the exchanges of female inmates who generally only gathered at dinner over their jailhouse food. During these times, the women would discuss their prostitution and the abuse they’d suffered at the hands of sadistic Johns, how criminalized and ostracized they’d been. Her beautiful, sincere commentary revealed that all of these women “love, care about their mothers, their children and themselves.” She noted that although she was sharing her incarceration with them, she held herself apart, seeing that their socio-economic status led them into the life for which they’d been arrested.  Her dream now is to impact city planning to revitalize impoverished communities and provide women with greater opportunities than prostitution. Her play juxtaposes her childhood kitchen table, a place of warmth, love, and support, with the prison’s concrete institutional table that is “cold and uninviting.” However, Quevedo sees that both settings offer support and an opportunity for networking among women.

Friday’s final offering was contributed by Earl Young.  His piece,  Remnants, depicts the story of Taft, a man haunted by PTSD from his time in prison, who is strengthened by his loving wife, Brenda. The two face his fear of flying to visit Taft’s former peers incarcerated at San Quentin and share the message that freedom can be achieved and kept, as long as one wants it. If he is “willing to put in the work” then a person can be accountable.  “The slaughter of one’s old self is what it takes.”

Saturday night’s program was different in scope and offerings.  The actors were also the writers. These men shared their own stories, so they were delivered directly from the source, and this allowed me to connect with them and applaud their honesty and bravery in sharing their all-too-human experiences.

The first short video was created by Shawn Khalifa. It was entitled, Getting to the Show, and was set on the SDSU campus during Covid. Shawn is trying to get into the Experimental Theater to see his play. He had had one performed there two years earlier.  He is searching for an entrance but is thwarted at every turn.  He will not give up. He asks for Cecelia Kouma, the encouraging, supportive Executive Director of the Playwrights Project.  His persistence is demonstrated through his actions.  He purposefully begins cleaning the theater in an effort to make himself useful and constructive. His ironclad will shows him trying to reach a tall wall on the side of the building.  In the talkback, Shawn shared that in a previous play, Prison is Not Me he spoke of transitioning into college and didn’t want his peers to know that he’d been sentenced to life in prison. He served sixteen years before finding his way out with the love and support of teachers, mentors, and friends.

Melvin Price Jr. shared the challenge of leaving the interior walls of the prison in a song he composed called Toilet Paper Ain’t Free. Having completed his sentence during Covid and being released, the freed man was met by empty shelves at Walmart and Target. “No toilet paper out of jail. Nothing prepared me for what the real world’s put me through.” This theme was a common one running just beneath many dialogue lines of the no-longer-incarcerated. Once they were released, many felt the safety net had been ripped out from under them and they were tightrope walkers hoping to keep their balance.

The final monologue came from Tony Curtis, who blended his personal experience with that of a friend in one of his support groups. In No Place Like Home, Curtis wrote about nostalgia for “delicious meals from my youth…laughter, and joy….rolling around on the floor with my nephews and nieces.” Reality, however, planted the character on a corner of “a city I didn’t even recognize.  Nothing seemed to be where I expected it. Everyone’s face was pasted to a device.” Instead of finding a home, a job, and a family, he found himself “broke, anxious and worried.” The pre-parole packet he’d received didn’t prepare him for life beyond the prison walls. After 20 years in jail, the character’s ambitions for adapting to a new life were stunted by Covid and his limited skill set as the world of technology passed him by. Perhaps the most devastating realization was that this family whose memory gave him comfort didn’t understand what he was going through and couldn’t embrace him. In the panel discussion, Curtis explained that although his monologue was not his story, many of the experiences were his. His involvement in the Playwrights Project for two years has enabled him not only to speak his own truth but to provide a “voice for the people I left behind.”

Despite the many sad stories of those who’ve been incarcerated and pushed out of our field of vision, this collaborative program and this venue were filled with hope and optimism. Each of the playwrights and actors, as well as Wayne D. Cook, the emcee, provided clear examples of individuals who have chosen to create a life of meaning and value. While many of the writers spent too much time out of society, each of them has re-entered with the express mission of improving his/her life and raising others up with them. Tony Curtis summed it up best. “No one should be thrown away. Everyone is redeemable.”

*
Eva Trieger is a freelance writer specializing in coverage of the arts.  She may be contacted via eva.trieger@sdjewishworld.com