The Therapy of Dance Classes in Prison

Dancing is an art. It amazes me how our body can easily move to the beat of any music. If we really listen to music we can move every part of our body: feet, hips, shoulders, arms, etc., even our heart and soul to every note of a song like the stars in the sky.

I love to dance and I use dancing for therapy, especially in my last 10 grim years of incarceration. I dance in my cubicle by myself, I dance on the track when I am jogging or walking, I dance in my workplace (only when I am by myself and no police are around), I dance in the shower (without music), I dance everywhere and anytime that the notes of a song touch my heart. If I am feeling depressed, homesick or feeling miserable as a prisoner, I turn on my radio (with head-phones) and I dance. Within a few seconds, I am full of energy, happy and looking forward to the future. Dancing is better than Prozac, Xanax, Wellbutron, or any illegal or legal anti depressant drugs.

A few months ago I was reading an article in the newspaper about ballet classes being taught to female prisoners in Japan. In the picture, the faces of the female prisoners were so relaxed and peaceful while they were performing their ballet routine. Then a few weeks later, on the TV I saw a program that presented a dancing school for children with disabilities (Down Syndrome, Autism, etc) and a couple of children with Down Syndrome performed a dance. Their faces reflected concentration, pride and happiness and they performed perfectly. I said to myself: "Dancing is good for people, especially children and women with mental illness and disabilities". At that moment I made the decision to make a schedule in my busy life to volunteer myself to teach dance class. So on February 11, 2006 my Modern Dance class started: a two hour class on Saturdays (6-8 pm). I teach mambo, cha-cha-cha, samba, merengue, salsa and African beats. It is a hard routine.

Around the same time that my class started, a lady from Cuba self-surrendered to this institution. From the day she walked in, we all knew that she had mental problems: she did not sleep, she walked around all night, talked and walked tirelessly. One day she had a nervous break-down during mass. It is very sad to see a human being in that stage of mental disbalance-- she crawled on the floor, hung on the altar, was pulling at the priest's cloths, screaming incoherent words and crying like a child. We did not know what to do. She was taken to an isolation cell or watch cell, which is a cell with a big window that you are under watch 24-7. When she came back from the isolation cell she was like a zombie.

Some of my students invited her to my dance class and the first day that she came, she sat in a corner (holding her knees) and just watched me and the students. The second time she did not sit, she said she was going to try it, and stayed in the back of the class. When it was time to start I said to my students: "positions, on the count of 5 we will start with the right foot." I always turn my back to my students so they can see the movement and we can turn right and left together. After we started I said, "Get ready for the routine. Do not forget, back straight, suck your stomach in, breasts out, shoulders back, move your hips with elegance, your fingers softly extended. Now, travel to the right, to the left, getting ready to turn. When we turn, lift your leg with elegance, raise your arms and jump." I continued and said, "Do not forget your hips. Move your hips with the sound of the music." The music is on loud. I am giving the instructions louder. Everybody is sweating, so I turned to see how my students were doing and I saw the lady jumping, smiling and following the routine perfectly with such joy. I could not believe it. I started jumping and saying to myself, "I did it! I did it! I made her smile and enjoy life!" After the class was over, all my students congratulated her. She came to me and said, "Thanks Guanipa. This is the first time in my life that I did not need a pill to feel happy." I was convinced at that moment that a dance class is a good therapy, and if it takes us away from prison life for just a few short hours and makes us happy, maybe it is something to be considered as a positive activity in our meaningless prison lives.

I love you all. Yraida Guanipa (Leo)

"Mantras" in Prison

Those who have practiced or read about Yoga, meditation or Buddhism know about Mantras and how Mantras work; there are some very popular Mantras like: OMMM.., OM NEMA SHIVIA, etc., However inside prison the Mantras are different and there are some popular words that with time become like Mantras. For reasons unknown to me there are some prisoners and some correctional officers that have a very limited vocabulary that every sentence is composed of 2 or 3 M.. F.., son of a B.., F.. you, etc. There are times when all you hear the entire day and night is "M.. F..; M.. F..; M.. F..". I do not say bad words, so when any of my fellow prisoners start screaming the M.. F.. word it truly disturbs me; but the unwritten or prison survival rules do not allow me to tell my fellow prisoner to shut up or advise her to correct her vocabulary, then I have no other choice than to listen the M.. F.. word over, over and over again. One day a few weeks ago I was not feeling well, so after the 4 p.m. count I decided to take a nap ( unusual for me to take a nap at that time because it is dinner time) instead of the nap I fell asleep and I lost track of time, 3 hours later I thought that I was having a bad dream that 2 of my fellow prisoners were fighting, and all I heard was: "you M.. F.., who do you M.. F.. think you are, you know that you are a M.. F.. son of a b..,I am going to M.. F.. kill you, M.. F.., M.. F.. M.. F..." I was confused and half way asleep, I did not know if I was having a dream or if it was real, then half way to being awake stage I was trying to figure out what was happening, so instead of asking: "what's happening", I said "M.. F..". In that moment a friend of mine passed by my cubicle, she heard me and she knows that I do not say bad words, so being worried, she entered my cubicle and asked me: "Guanipa, Guanipa are you Ok"; she thought that I was awake and that I was playing, so she pushed me and said: "Guanipa stop playing". Since I was in like night mare stage I jumped from my bunk and instead of saying: "what's happening' , I screamed very loud: "M.. F.." , she jumped also, got scared and said: "Guanipa what's wrong?" at that moment I was fully awake, feeling ashamed and completely lost. I said to her: "oh, I'm sorry I was having a dream that 2 people were fighting and saying M.. F.. to each other"; she said to me: 'no, you were not dreaming, such and such were fighting and saying M.. F.. to each other", I said : "I'm sorry for saying M.. F.. to you"; she answered: "that's ok, but you do not look good, I am going to make a green tea for you and let you rest", within a few minutes she brought the tea and while I was drinking my tea I was thinking and worried about my sanity. The next day I was telling a friend what had happened to me and she said: "do not worry, it happened to me too, but not with the M.. F.. word but with the Spanish word p..ga. I said to her: "I am gald to hear that, I thought I was losing my mind, I guess those M.. F.. and p..ga words are prison's Mantras"; we both laughed and she said: "prison's Mantras are part of our draconian sentences". So much for a first-time, non-violent offender. I love you all. Yraida (Leo).

Love In Prison

Love (for me) is a total surrender of yourself (mind, body & soul), an unconditional giving. There are different kinds of love, love for animals, mother's love, love for plants, couple's love, etc. I want to talk about love between couples, even though I am not an expert in the matter of love because I have only one love in my life. I fell in love with my husband and the father of my sons when I was 13 years old, it was a true and one time love. Pure, unconditional, beautiful and without limits kind of love. I truly loved him. During my 10 grim years of incarceration, the pain and the suffering from being away from my sons is so deep that there has been no room in my life/heart for love, however I have witnessed all kinds of couple's love, even the unthinkable ones. I truly believe that there is a part of us that never grows, the child inside us dies when we die. When I see how couples fall in love inside prison, it brings back memories of my high-school years, like sending little notes to each other, offering candy, talking with their eyes, sending messages with a third party of where to meet, etc. I have seen officers , even executive officers falling in love with inmates, I know what they went through to maintain their relationship inside prison, how they hid themselves inside freezer, warehouses, etc, to kiss each other or have sex, how they had to ignore each other in front of others, how they sent anonymous notes to each other and in the end, the officer leaves everything, job, wife, government benefits, even the country to marry the inmate upon her release. I also have seen how officers abuse and lie to inmates to gain sexual favors. There are some, wild, crazy and violent love affairs too, like the ones between inmates (same sex) some of them physically abuse each other, fight with others to defend there lovers, wiling to go to the shu (hole) and have 2 or 3 lovers at the same time, there is also love between prisoners by letter from one prison to another, love between drivers (UPS< DHL< truck drivers, etc) and inmates, outside contractors and inmates, inmates with other inmate's famly or relative, etc, but there is one instance of love that I admired and enjoy watching and it is of my co-worker's. She is over 60 and her husband is over 70, he is at the nedium facility, and he is very sick (in a wheelchair), another prisoner carries him around. Every morning he stands close to the wire fence to see her pass by. The distance is about 100 yards and there is a thick wire fence in between, the vision is blurry, neither can see each other clearly, so they both use a white piece of cloth to wave to each other. He does not like her to see him in the weelchair so, he stands just to wave at her, after they wave to each other they go inside and write a letter to each other every day. They both have to be very carefull because if the authorities find-out that they wave to each other, she will receive an incident report, will be shipped out of the camp and he will be sent to the SHU (hole). No matter how cold or hot it may be, he is always there on the other side of the fence waiting for her. They have been married for over 40 years they are firs-time, non-violent offenders, no drug, medicare or identity theft charge, but they both receive a 20 years sentence. I belive that he will die inside prison and she will not be by his side. We do not have the gas-chambers like in the NAZI era but we do have draconian sentences that an elderly will not survive and no human being should have to endure. I love you all. Yraida

Beauty Pageants in Prison

Last October 4, 2005(Tuesday) the USA Today published an article by Toby Muse. The article was titled: "In Colombia beauty is in the eyes of the prisoner"; the article stated: " Nation's passion for pageants extends to inside cellblocks" even a picture of the pageant winner w as published, the female prisoner in a Queen's outfit with a crown. It called my attention that the writer said: "nation's passion" (Colombia). I do not know Mr. Muse, or where he is from; but in the article He portrays that beauty pageants inside prison's happen only in Colombia due to that "nation's passion for pageants". I believe that Mr. Muse as well as the rest of my fellow american citizen's is unaware of what happens inside our nation's prisons. Here Mr. Muse in the United States of America at least in Federal prisons, we have not only one; but at least 2 and sometimes 3 beauty pageants each year. During the Hispanic Heritage celebrations (Sept-Oct) one of the activities is a beauty pageant, 21 female prisoners are selected to represent each Hispanic country and one is selected as Ms. Hispanic; also during the Black History Month (February) a top model is selected between 10 or more models to be the beauty for black history month; further in some prisons a Miss. USA is selected for the 4th of July activities. In the pageants, the prisoners wear dresses designed and made by other prisoners; and some of the dresses are just gorgeous, long gowns with shoulderless, backs, legs or open midsection dresses, with prison made earrings andtiaras. Lots of make-up are worn and they walk, model and are interviewed like in a real beuaty pageant. We even have judges (correctional officers) to vote and select the beauty. (You may be able to see a picture on this e-mail). I do not know whether it is a Colombia or the United States' passion forpageants or it is a prisoner's survival tool, especially female prisoners, I am not a sociologist, criminologist or pyschologist I am only speaking from my experience. Furthermore whether it is a female or a male issue, I do not know either because I have been told by some correctional officers that the male's have pageant too. But there is something that I know; and it is that it is sad very sad that our journalists and the american people Do not know what happens inside our prisons. America and the world were in shock when they saw the pictures from Abu Ghraih prison in Iraq; and our politicians, lawmakers, and regualr citizens said that: '"Well that does not happen here at home"; if the persons who did that to the Abu Ghraih prisoners were american correctional officers trained in USA and former employees of our correctional system what makes us think that that abuse does not happen here at home?. As many of you, including USA Today, did not know about our 3 Beauty pageants per year inside our nation's prisons, you also may not be aware of the slave labor, rape, torture, abuse, lack of medical assistance, inhumane sanitation, and more that is happening inside our nation's prison system due toour nation's passion for the incarceration of first time, non-violent offenders. I love you all Yraida (Leo).

Toilet Paper

It was Tuesday February 22-06. I got-up lake because I did not have to work that day.Late for me means 6:30 am, so at 7:30 am I was walking my first lap of my 3 mile goal for that day. I turned-on my radio to listen the news and the first news that I heard was "A Toilet Paper deadly fight" the news reporter continued and said: "at Marion County Jail an inmate killed his roommate over a toilet paper fight". I stopped my walking and I wanted to cry. Ten thousands thoughts came to my mind. I was placing myself in everyone shoes, I was feeling sorry for the person that was killed. I was trying to comprehend the prisoner who killed his roommate; I was wondering how desperate he was, and I also wondered how violent or "animal instincts" easily arise in prison environment, and how the authorities were partially responsible for the death of that prisoner. Please do not take me wrong or believe that I am justifying the prisoner who killed his roommate, but we are in situations (provocated by the authorities) that put us in a positions or desperate circumstances that we have no option but to lie, steal and I guess for some, even kill. The toilet paper news hit me so hard because just two days before I was so desperate for toilet paper that I had to steal literately "STEAL" toilet paper from the yard bathroom, while I was sticking the toilet paper inside my pants and fitting the toilet paper so that an officer or other inmate would not notice the lump on my body, I was feeling sorry for myself and I was wondering how far I had to go in order for me to survive. I have bleeding problem and I usually prepare myself in advance with enough supplies for my cycle but last weekend I was bleeding out of my cycle, and I did not have enough toilet paper. Further I was not aware that the new counselor had decided to close the toilet paper supply room on weekends. Lately every day things change inside prison due to budget problems. Last year we were told that no toilet paper was going to be placed in the bathroom and that each one of us had to go to another unit upstairs to a special room to pick-up toilet paper at specific times. Half of the time the room is closed, for some reason such us the officer did not open the room, or the inmate in charge is at church, etc, etc. Further the time to pick-up the toilet paper is the same time that you are allowed to talk to the authorities, take a shower, go to work, etc, etc. Weekends were the easiest days to pick-up toilet paper and the counselor just changed the schedule, and I did not know. I could not ask any of my fellow prisoners because all are in the same situation as I am, saving and hiding their toilet paper. I never thought that being desperate for a piece of toilet paper was going to be part of my sentence. Well I am not the only female prisoner with bleeding problems, furthermore there are thousands of female prisoners with diarrhea, bladder problems and many elderly female prisoners with all kind of complications. Can you picture the mental state of a prisoner inside a cell with a diarrhea problem, with no toilet paper and getting no help from either the authorities or his cellmate? No matter how stressful he/she may be it is not a reason to kill, but it is absolutely a reason for our lawmakers and judges to rethink before imposing those draconian sentences for first-time, non-violent offenders and/or reinstate parole for federal prisoners. I love you all. Yraida (Leo)