“As a society, our decision to heap shame and contempt upon those who struggle and fail in a system designed to keep them locked up and locked out says far more about ourselves
than it does about them.”
―Michelle Alexander
Letter from the Founder
Dear Readers,
My dad and I talk often about the incarcerated, and how we wound up called to help, encourage, and love them. Since my dad preached in a federal prison for 10 years during my young adulthood, I had a consistent example of what compassion looked like.
Years before I would ever sit knee-to-knee with women in a county jail, I would sit across from my dad on Thursday evenings in the living room to hear about the men in prison. I remember one night in particular when my dad had the opportunity to hear a room full of men sing worship songs to their Creator. My dad said it was unlike anything he had ever heard. To this day, he talks about it and the effect it had on him, to hear these “hardened criminals” sing praise to God.
The compassion my dad had—and still has—for these men stuck with me. What my dad experienced that night in prison was a beautiful, touching moment in a dark, hard place with people who have been written off because of their crimes. My dad did not care who he sang with that night: men with backgrounds of murder, rape, drugs, theft, robbery, sex crimes. You name it.
Most of the people in our lives have a tough time comprehending how my dad and I can laugh and cry and learn and worship with people who have done unspeakable things. And do you know what my dad and I tell them?
We don’t care what they did. We are there to love them. Full stop.
What a person is accused of, charged with, or sentenced to is not our problem. Our job is to show the incarcerated that they are loved and valued and worthy. Our job is to build them up, never to tear them down. Our job is to be different from everyone else.
When my dad told me that night about singing hymns in prison, it taught me that beauty and love and light really can exist in even the darkest, hardest, most desolate places.
And it sparked in me the notion that I needed to be a light too.
There is someone in your life right now who needs compassion . . . who needs to be uplifted . . . who needs love. Will you be the light for that person? It may not be an individual who is incarcerated (or maybe it is), but I guarantee that if you look close enough, there is someone out there who is just waiting for a compassionate person to tell them:
“I don’t care what you did. I want to help you heal and live a purpose-driven life.”
Your Bleeding Heart,
Shayla Hale
Founder & Host of Crime & Compassion
P.S. If you’d like to listen to one of the songs the men loved to sing in federal prison, please enjoy “Clean Up” by the Canton Spirituals.
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(Perspective)
When you see her, what is it that you see?
An incarcerated soul, woman confined,
A felon now cold, a prisoner defined?
I will tell you who she is
A whole made with pieces
Who did not accept the world's defeat
Refined gold, and achievement
Is exactly who she be
Cleansed
Renewed
Redeemed from the waste
Flawless in all her imperfections
White roses in a vase
Brewed minds of truth
For extraordinary use
Beauty at its finest
Purified by the fire
Her muscles define
When the bar is set higher
She is...
Written by Sharee1
Shaping Their Own Destinies
In his book, Changing Lenses, Howard Zehr writes, “Our understandings of what is possible and impossible are based on constructions of reality. These constructs can and do change.”
For so long, our vision of prison has been shaped by TV and movies. We picture orange-frocked inmates leaning protectively over trays as they hurriedly shovel food into their mouths, or an exercise yard full of men lifting weights. This is the way incarcerated individuals are portrayed, because if they are viewed as little more than animals, the public is less likely to think deeper about why they are in prison.
They are in prison because they are bad people, right?
No, they are in prison because they made a mistake.
At Mabel Bassett Correctional Center, the largest female prison in the state of Oklahoma, women work hard to change not only the public’s perception of incarceration, but their own. Being in prison doesn’t mean their lives are over. They are determined to prove they can do anything they can set their minds to, including earning a college degree.
Thanks to the Sarkeys Hope Behind Bars Scholarship, members of The Education and Employment Ministry (TEEM), and the federal government opening up FAFSA funding to people serving up to a life sentence, a record number of people have enrolled in Mabel Bassett’s college program since the start of the fall 2023 semester.
The program grew almost overnight from forty women to eighty-four, and there is a waiting list of over fifty more waiting for an appointment to fill out the FAFSA form for the upcoming year. The educational opportunities have become a symbol of hope for many women who never thought they would have the chance to turn their lives around.
This shift from hopeless to hopeful has drawn other opportunities to the prison. Most recently, Dr. Susan Sharp, Professor of Sociology at Oklahoma University, is taking the Oklahoma Scholar-Leadership Enrichment Program (OSLEP) onto Mabel Bassett’s campus. The class will run from Monday, March 18 – Friday, March 22 (2024) and will consist of eight students from OU, eight students from Langston University, and eight students from Mabel Bassett.
Together, the students will explore the basis of retributive justice and explore alternatives, such as restorative justice, which is based on bringing the victim, offender, and community together. The goal is to find a path to healing for all involved that does not involve warehousing people.
Nothing like this has ever been done before in Oklahoma.
Is it proof that things are changing?
The women of MBCC are fighting back. Not with their fists, but with their minds and voices. They are no longer nameless, faceless figures in orange; instead, they have become strong, capable advocates taking charge of their own destinies, reshaping the constructs of what is possible. They have finally realized that the future isn’t written in stone. The concepts we have grown up with did not always exist—they evolved from older ones.
If we want things to change, we are the ones who have to change them.
Written by Crystal2
5 Quick Things
I’m reading . . . Barred by Daniel S. Medwed. I’m taking notes while I read!
I’m listening to . . . an audiobook called Disarming the Narcissist by Wendy T. Behary.
I’m learning . . . a lot from Nate Postlethwait. I also have complex PTSD, so reading his thoughts on healing has been so refreshing. You can follow him on Facebook, Instagram, or Threads.
I’m (officially) teaching . . . an advanced fiction writing class at the women’s prison with my friend through Poetic Justice! The girls are so pumped, and I cannot wait. The goal is for each student to be able to hold their book in their hands at the end. AHHH!
I’m celebrating . . . a nephew! My husband officially became an uncle on the Ides of March! We got to meet our nephew on Friday, and he is super snuggly and soft and sweet.
After a 13-year career in publishing, Shayla Hale said goodbye to her authors so she could advocate for the incarcerated. Now a bleeding heart, she volunteers with Poetic Justice at Mabel Bassett Correctional Center. She also enjoyed two years as a volunteer chaplain for Oklahoma Jail & Prison Ministries at Oklahoma County Jail. Shayla is the founder and host of Crime & Compassion, a podcast that tells the stories of those who were written off. Her heart’s desires are to unconditionally love the incarcerated, to encourage their creativity and storytelling, and to fight with and for those affected by the US justice system. Forever a literature lover, Shayla is also an author and public speaker. She lives in Norman with her chef husband and three spoiled dogs.
Poems from inside prisons and jails are submitted by the writers themselves and have been published here with their written permission and consent.
Essays from inside prisons and jails are submitted by the writers themselves and have been published here with their written permission and consent.