Last January, in my capacity as executive assistant here at TPAN, I opened a letter from a prisoner at Green Haven Correctional Facility in New York. Prison mail is certainly not uncommon here so I wasn’t surprised at his request to be put on the mailing list for Positively Aware.
What did surprise me was how articulately and passionately he expressed his dedication to a program they had there—PACE (Prisoners’ AIDS Counseling and Education). Arriving the next day was a similar letter from an inmate at Marcy, also in New York. My interest was piqued and so correspondence began to flow.
Thanks to my inmate teachers, I’ve learned that PACE actually started in 1987 at Bedford Hills, a women’s prison, as ACE (AIDS Counseling and Education). It was a courageous group of 10 women who came up with the idea to start a program run by and for prisoners who were hungry, if not desperate, for information about the disease that would forever influence their lives, inside of prison or out. Upon their release, some of them established ACE Out.
From there, the program was embraced by the men at Eastern Correctional Facility and renamed PACE. As the number of HIV-positive prisoners grows, it seems an understatement that programs such as PACE could save lives in more ways than one.
I have been totally perplexed by the lack of current data available about HIV/AIDS in our prisons. I haven’t been able to find any statistics compiled after 2001 and most are from 1999. According to that data, the rate of HIV/AIDS in male prison populations is five times that of the general population and for female inmates, 35 times. The annual cost of medical care for one prisoner with AIDS was estimated at $41,000 in 2001.
Is there no one paying attention to this? Surely our politicians and prison authorities must see that not only is there the issue of inmates infecting others, both inside and once they’re freed, but there’s the very real cost of caring for those who are incarcerated, including those who may never be released. Even if they have no compassion, surely they could jump on the bandwagon of lowering costs by decreasing infection rates, right? Unfortunately, sometimes they’ve avoided that fiscal problem by just denying HIV-positive prisoners the medications they need.
In most prisons, condoms are forbidden—how incredibly stupid is that? “Prison isn’t supposed to be a walk in the park—they’re there to be punished,” say the lawmakers and enforcers. When punishment is the only goal, there is no positive outcome except perhaps for those harboring a desire for revenge. When healing and change are the goal, we all win. Programs like PACE provide urgently needed information, support, hope, and healing.
In the course of my correspondence with several inmates from different New York prisons, it’s clear that the PACE curriculum is extensive. At Marcy, the program includes a 6-week cycle of 12 classes (in English and Spanish) on AIDS 101, hepatitis A, B and C, and HIV/AIDS education and peer counseling; a support group; a treatment information library; and the opportunity to participate in an HIV/AIDS Counseling Aide Apprenticeship, consisting of 2,000 work hours.
As Michael, the spokesman for the Marcy group says, “We are empowering the prisoners with the information that is necessary upon leaving the facility so that they will not continue to put themselves at risk. We also use the apprenticeship program as a deterrent to future incarceration.”
At the time of this writing, 57 inmates have just graduated from both English and Spanish PACE programs. The next graduation is slated for World AIDS Day in December. Michael has stated his commitment to continuing his PACE work when he is released. He has also urged me to print the New York Prison HIV Hotline: 1-716-854-5469. Prisoners from any New York prison can call collect for confidential consultation.
At Green Haven, they start with what they call the One Day Overview, an introduction to basic facts about transmission and prevention, medical treatment, HIV antibody testing, and risk-reduction methods. After the O.D.O., each participant fills out a survey and is given the opportunity to continue to the Basic Class, which delves into the process of HIV infection, general anatomy, and the immune system. Participants are tested and must pass with a high score to receive a certificate.
Advanced classes include more in-depth study of the immune system as well as Peer Educator classes in teaching techniques, time management, and even how to speak clearly when delivering information. There are support groups and a hospital visitation program as well as an extensive resource library. They are also afforded the opportunity to participate in trainings from outside agencies, as well as the apprenticeship program.
Reynaldo, my original Green Haven correspondent, has been an inspiring source of information and has urged me to “let the public know of the humble strides that we of PACE are making behind the steel and stone that separates us from you.”
Another of the Green Haven group, Allen, led me to the name of the woman who devised the original curriculum for Wallkill’s AIDS Substance Abuse and Health Awareness class, and upon googling “Sara Dubik-Unruh,” I crossed paths with an angel of light and inspiration. Sara was kind enough to share some of her memories and experiences as a teacher in the prisons in the early ‘90s. The 12-week course she designed included the basics on HIV transmission and symptomology, other sexually transmitted infections, prevention methods, and issues beyond the physical that must be dealt with in the prison environment. Even more valuable to me were her observations on these prisoners as people.
Until now, my concept of convicts was highly colored by movies and TV. As I’ve written back and forth with these guys, I’ve found myself caring about them, wondering what will happen to them as they either get out or continue to serve life sentences. I wonder if I were in prison, would I be able to find the wherewithal to decide to care? What makes it possible for someone who has robbed, sold drugs, assaulted or killed to decide to turn their life around?
Sara explained it in a beautiful way. She said that on a drive out West, she saw many old highways that had been abandoned when big interstates were built. “When you pass those highways there is the concrete sitting out there baking in the sun and invariably you will see blades of grass pushing up through that abandoned pavement. The inmates who turn their lives around in a prison setting are a lot like those blades of grass—they come up through impossible odds, but they flourish and with a little encouragement, there could be more of them.” What will have to happen before that little bit of encouragement is forthcoming?
Another gift that Sara gave me was to refer me to Robin Casarjian’s book, “Houses of Healing.” Robin has developed an amazing course to help inmates understand that prison can be a healing journey, starting with looking at the road that brought them there and leading them to the point where they can accept responsibility for their actions, criminal or not.
Backgrounds full of abuse and empty of self-respect; societal conditioning that insists that you can’t be happy, healthy, successful, smart or loved if you come from a ghetto or a barrio; no conscious awareness that your actions have consequences and are able to damage others as you have been damaged. When you start from a deficit like that, how do you rise above it?
After meeting and getting to know a few of the men of PACE, I know it can be done. I know without doubt that, upon his release, Michael will start a career of courageous activism and advocacy. I know, without doubt, that Reynaldo will continue to live his life sentence making each day count, leaving his brave footprints as proof that anyone can make a positive contribution to the Whole. I know that there are thousands more in prisons to whom PACE would be not just an educational tool, but a life saver.
Though I received no response to my requests for comments from prison officials and administrators, I believe they represent a vitally necessary force in the question of whether or not PACE-like programs can be established in prisons. Just as I refuse to believe that inmates are all evil sociopaths who are irredeemable, I also refuse to believe that all corrections officers and wardens are the abusive, ignorant psychotics portrayed in the movies. I know there must be intelligent, compassionate people who are as dedicated to making a positive difference as the inmates of PACE are. Are corrections officers really, as one inmate put it, “the biggest gang in the prison?”
I don’t know, but they are the only ones who can tip the balance towards the light. The desire of the inmates to grow beyond the limitations of their pasts is moot if the prison authorities refuse them the tools and opportunities to achieve that desire.
In her 2000 article, “The Good Fight,” inmate advocate Judy Greenspan reminded us that there’s a need for a “rebirth in activism around prisoner health issues.” Though she wrote those words six years ago, the fight is still good and now, when our so-called president seems to ignore if not sanction inhumane treatment of prisoners, it is even more necessary.
It is my hope that governors and leaders across the country will extend their support to the prison populations with funding for programs like PACE. You see, TPAN has this program called TEAM (Treatment, Education, Advocacy, Management) that I think might look great in stripes!
Sue Saltmarsh has more than 13 years of experience working in HIV as an alternative and complementary therapies practitioner, including herbalism and intuitive chakra balancing. She is also a writer of short stories that illustrate both pathos and healing.
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