Letters to an Incarcerated Brother: Encouragement, Hope, and Healing for Inmates and Their Loved Ones

by Hill Harper

  Freedom is an interesting thing. It’s not necessarily having the ability to move from one place to another. Our people learned that in slavery. We were enslaved, and yet in many ways we were free. We were free in our minds to find ways to improve and teach ourselves, and to learn to read and write, even though we were prohibited from doing the things that were of value to us. So when that moment of freedom (as defined by society) occurred, we were ready and prepared. My hope, prayer, and wish would be that you take advantage of this opportunity to free yourself, so when that moment comes and society says, “You’re now free,” you are truly free and do not fall back into the stereotypes and traps and lowered expectations that have been laid out for you. If you realize that, then just imagine what you can do!

  As Black people and as a community, we need to wake up and recognize that sometimes the enemy of our progress and our opportunities can be us. We cede too much control to others. We have to realize that when you look at white America and majority communities around this country, they have no obligation to help us. They have no incentive to do that, especially when they see that we aren’t living up to our own expectations for ourselves. We need to wake up and see that the failure of a young Black man is a statement about us as a community. His failure is our failure. We can’t put that off on someone else. That’s why the way we raise our sons and daughters is so important.

  I see a big rise in the number of young Black women who are now being incarcerated. In my first year of visiting the detention center in Baltimore, there were one hundred Black males and three young women in the system. My last year in office, there were still one hundred Black males but also fifteen young women. The number increased fivefold in the course of four years. That says something about us and is a reflection of our community. If we allow that to persist and accelerate the way it has, why should we expect anyone else to intervene on our behalf?

  What made civil rights matter was that our community said it mattered, and we pressed the point politically and socially. But in the last forty or so years, we’ve stopped pressing the point. Oh yes, we have a protest here or there, and that’s great. But when it’s all said and done, what are we doing systemically to turn around that narrative about us? How do we put pressure on ourselves to define the agenda for this generation in this century, so we don’t fall into the same traps and make the same mistakes? So that we’re actually making progress in ways that we haven’t up until now?

  Our parents and grandparents created a pathway for us. My mom had a fifth-grade education; I graduated from Johns Hopkins undergrad and Georgetown law school. What does that say? And now I have two young sons, and it’s incumbent on me to make sure their pathway is greater than the one my parent gave to me. Yet that has not been the story consistently across the community. We need to begin to take these issues seriously when you’re looking at a million-plus young men incarcerated and over a million on probation of some form. The drug addiction, the AIDS infection rate, the lack of even baseline educational opportunity—that’s on us. We need to look at our political and educational leadership—at all those who hold themselves out as leaders—and say to them, “Enough is enough.” And bring the pressure to turn this narrative around.

  Sincerely,

  Michael Steele

  NO MICRO-QUITS

  MY SON

  LETTER 33

  Allies

  No man is whole of himself. His friends are the rest of him.

  —Unknown

  And even if we are occupied with important things, if we attain honor or fall into misfortune, still let us remember how good it was once here, when we were all together, united by a good-time feeling, which made us better than perhaps we are.

  —Fyodor Dostoevsky

  Hey, man,

  I’m back from South America. Bet you barely noticed the time passing. I figured your reaction to my “surprise” would be waiting for me in the mail pile when I got home. I gotta admit it, I was as excited as a kid opening a Christmas present—even though I knew the present was just gonna be your reaction to what I’ve done. I would have loved to see the look in your eyes when you walked into the visitors’ hall and spied R. J. What was the word you used? Ecstatic?

  Obviously, you couldn’t have been more thrilled. But I’m curious to know how you felt about my making it a surprise without any advance warning. I’ll be honest, because we’ve talked about these problems I’m gonna mention. My reason for keeping it secret and making it a surprise was my fear that your insecurities—those negative voices—would try to take over if you knew about the visit in advance. I figured you’d run around worrying about whether you knew how to act with him, if he’d treat you like his father or even recognize you after more than three years. If you yourself even knew how you wanted to act as a father and whether he’d act ashamed when he understood your situation and where you were. That’s why I didn’t say anything.

  From your letter, looks like we both handled it the right way. I’m so proud of you. You’ve never sounded as happy as you did in that letter! On that note, why don’t we take this to another level. Tomorrow, on my landline, I’m going to see if I can rig up one of those recording devices reporters use to do phone interviews. I can’t do this too often, but Lynn told me R. J.’s birthday is coming up in six weeks. Maybe you could record a spoken message for R. J., even sing “Happy Birthday.” Whatever . . . I’m just feeling good about your being reunited with your son. But the recording will just be a backup, if for some reason they won’t let you get on the phone with him live on his actual birthday.

  And thanks for slipping your new blueprint into the envelope with that letter. I see you added a door to that blueprint, too, and look who came running through it! You know what you gotta do now, don’t you? Write your boy a letter about how much you dug seeing him. Since you’re such a good artist, maybe you can slip one of those drawings you do into the envelope for him. I bet he’ll be proud of it. Probably ask the group-home people if he can tape it to the wall or tack it up on the bulletin board.

  Your past with your father does not have to be your future with your son.

  Follow-up is what I’m talking about. That’s something that’s not just important in business. You gotta follow up with your family and friends also. Don’t you think?

  As for the dream, the best thing is for us to talk on the phone about it, unless you don’t want to. I know you’re a little depressed by the contrast between the dream and real life. But I see that dream as a positive sign about a next step with your son. Your past with your father does not have to be your future with your son. You’re building a whole new life, remember, and that includes a new relationship with your son and family. That’s all I’ll say for now.

  Can’t wait to hear your voice on the phone, Brotha. Will you call me Thursday evening around eight?

  Love,

  Hill

  HILL’S LETTER FOR THE PAROLE BOARD

  From: Hill Harper

  To: Parole Board

  Re: Incarcerated Brother

  To Whom It May Concern:

  I have known the inmate who appears before you for nearly twelve years. Over the past five years in particular, we have communicated regularly by mail and by telephone. I wouldn’t be exaggerating to say that I’m astonished by the many ways he’s transformed his mentality and improved his education during our friendship.

  You may or may not know that I’m a motivational speaker and author who has written several books containing advice for youth and adults. I’m also the founder of the MANifest Your Destiny Foundation, whose mission is to provide underserved youth a path to empowerment and educational excellence through academic programming, college access skills, and personal development. I think these activities and involvements provide me with the experience needed to evaluate certain key aspects of this inmate’s development. Over the period of our acquaintance, he has become an avid reader with
a curious mind. He has even mastered the rudiments of computer programming and video game design without a computer, using exercises and books that I’ve sent him. He has been assiduous in attending the automotive technology training course you offer.

  He has also developed a plan for a life of success according to certain guidelines I’ve been sharing with him. These involve developing a detailed “blueprint” containing the steps he’ll need to avoid recidivism and become financially independent after his release.

  Finally, he has evolved considerably on an emotional and psychological level. He has reestablished contact with his son, currently in a group home, and is planning the steps necessary to resume responsibility for him and, if possible, to live with him.

  All in all, I have seen this individual slowly turn away from the destructive values of the street and reform many of the attitudes that led to his incarceration. For the first time in his life, he appears optimistic about his future. For all these reasons, I am asking that you strongly consider granting him an early release so that he may begin living that future in the outside world as soon as possible. I want to do anything and everything in my power to assist him in living a life full of love, happiness, and success. Please don’t hesitate to call me with any questions you may have.

  Sincerely,

  Hill Harper

  LETTER 34

  Changing Your Tune

  In order to break the cycle of incarceration, you’ve got to go inside yourself and take an honest, unflinching look at the things that sent you to jail. How you built your house. In preparation for curing self-pity, you have to divide the social conditions of your birth and background—which you cannot change—from things you could have changed and still have a chance to. You got to go inside your house, take inventory, and plan its rebuilding.1

  —Mark Pincus, businessman and billionaire

  Change is the end result of all true learning.

  —Leo Buscaglia

  Dear Brotha,

  Man, I know. It’s a huge disappointment. You hadn’t missed one day of your mechanic’s course. You got half the cons in your pod reading and talking about books. I take my hat off to you. The parole board knew about your son’s visit, too, and how positive it was for both of you. Then why did you get turned down by parole review?

  It’s hard to believe that it was just for those three minor infractions. I don’t think that sour-faced hack who supervises your porter duties and had the nerve to snitch on you is totally responsible for this. But listen to me: Whatever you do, do not seek revenge. Don’t even give that hack a sign you know what he did. I doubt that he’s the only thing that caused the denial. His word ain’t got that much power with those people. If anything, he just helped reinforce what they were going to probably do anyway the first time you ever went up.

  I called the warden to ask what I could do that would be more effective. He said a letter of character from me might help a lot. I don’t know if they mentioned my sending it. Probably not. So I’ve put it in with this letter for you to read. Every word of it was sincere, man.

  Also, I got on the phone with the head of the parole board and expressed my heartfelt support for you, but he seemed totally unreceptive to what I was trying to tell him. He tried to tell me that releasing you now would be too far ahead of schedule, and it would set a bad precedent for his board. I wanted to say, “Bullshit, you should release more nonviolent drug offenders right now.” But I didn’t; I kept my mouth shut and then I just expressed my confidence in you. I thought they made a mistake and should reconsider. I told him that you’re more than ready to be out. I was hoping like hell that your sentence would be shortened, but it looks like you’ll have to serve the remainder of your term. I’m sorry. I know how discouraging that is, but you gotta persist and not give up.

  “The temptation to quit will be greatest just before you are about to succeed.”

  Even though you didn’t make parole, the biggest chunk of your sentence is behind you. Just a bit longer and you’ll be out. You can use your time to maximize your potential, but you have to make up your mind to keep up the good work. Keep reading, keep taking your correspondence courses, and stay away from the gangs, man! According to an old Chinese proverb, “The temptation to quit will be greatest just before you are about to succeed.” Try to keep that in mind when things get rough.

  In your last letter, you said that you weren’t sure how you were going to be able to find any more courses. So I did a little research. Here are some tips on getting funding for correspondence courses: You can write to the school requesting a scholarship. Or write to local associations, churches, and civic clubs, such as Rotary or Kiwanis, to inquire about scholarships for incarcerated individuals. Many churches have prison ministries and outreach programs, and you can write the pastors a letter requesting a special collection to be made one particular Sunday specifically for your classes. It is also important to try to get good grades in your courses, because those awarding future scholarships want to see that a real effort has been made. Many people change for the better while they are incarcerated, and a big part of that is self-education. The great thing about getting an education while you’re in prison is that you’re using your time instead of just doing your time!

  The great thing about getting an education while you’re in prison is that you’re using your time instead of just doing your time!

  DEALING WITH THE PAROLE BOARD

  I hope you remember that a week after you got transferred to this farm, you signed a document giving me the right to discuss your situation with any member of the administration—as if I were family. Thanks to that, I had quite a conversation with the warden. I’ll tell you about it in a minute, but first I want to make sure you understand how the parole board works.

  The warden told me that every state has different procedures, but the general approach is basically the same. Every state has a parole board (or board of corrections), a panel whose job is to conduct parole reviews, or parole hearings. And in a lot of states, including yours, all the panel members must be “qualified professionals”—judges, psychiatrists, criminologists, etc.

  However, there’s essentially just one consideration that outweighs all the others in choosing the parole review panel. All of them have to have good “moral standing” in their community. They’re people who, at least officially, are considered ethical and objective by their peers—people with good public reputations. That said, we both know many governmental appointments can be political in nature. Yet another reason voting is important.

  They have a lot of power over you, my man. In fact, from the day you went to prison, all power to determine the length of your sentence and the conditions of your release became the sole responsibility of that panel. The board can make the determination to release an offender on parole, and they can even end the sentence short of the statutory limit or require full service of the sentence—in your case, ten years. The board uses guidelines in making their decision. But they’re not bound by those guidelines or any recommendations psychologists, clergy, or anybody else makes. Even the warden. It’s all up to them.

  I know you started preparing for your parole review six months before the actual hearing, which is the minimum in your state. The warden told me it takes that long to prepare and process the information file that the voting board will use to make their decisions. Sometimes they call what the parole board gets a “parole packet” or “parole plan.” Included in it are things that work on your behalf, like my letter in favor of your release, any certificates or degrees you might have earned, evaluations by the prison counselor or from a member of the clergy if you see one and any social workers you might have been in contact with, and a short report from your teacher of automobile technology. (By the way, I felt like a fool when I kept asking the warden about the prison’s “mechanic’s” training, until he realized what I was talking about and said they call it “automobile techno
logy.”)

  Your record of arrests is part of it, too, of course, but in your prison, so is your record of “inmate conduct.” Apparently, every time you infringe on a rule or break your prison’s code of inmate conduct, it’s written up on your record as a violation and sometimes accompanied by a disciplinary report. They keep a record of the disciplinary actions you receive for any infringement, whether it was just a reprimand, or a fine, or having some of your privileges suspended (exercise in the yard, visits to the commissary or library, for example). Or most important of all, if you were sent to the Hole.

  I won’t ask you why you didn’t tell me about all this, because I think I know why. But during my talk with the warden, I found out, almost by accident, that the reason you still have to do two hours of janitor duty a day is because of several incidents of hostile behavior against other prisoners in the mess hall and with that hack you hate in the corridor. At least, that was their version of it.

  It got me down that you don’t trust me enough to tell me about stuff like that. Please don’t think you have to “look good” in my eyes, to the point of lying or concealing stuff. Don’t you get it, man? I’m not going to judge you. Our relationship is way deeper than that. That doesn’t mean we can’t disappoint each other, though. To that point, if the attitude that says “good behavior” is not authentic, that’s one of the primary reasons that people end up back in prison!

  Anyway, now I know why the library they have where you are seemed so incredibly shitty to me. It’s not shitty for everybody, but it is for you. The warden told me that in that prison, permission to use the library is adjusted to your privilege level. Your privilege level is based on how many violations you racked up for conduct. Seems that a year ago your library privileges were reduced to half, and then reduced to half of that this year. That means you’re only getting the right to visit the library 25 percent of the time you would have been able to without any violations.