(Originally Posted on May 12, 2015)
About “Commissary Day”
When I wrote the following essay, perhaps six years ago, describing in detail one of the more unfortunate rituals of prison, I received some rather strong reactions from readers. Most agreed that it was emotionally hard to read, and some of the more sensitive couldn’t manage to read it at all. I believe my writing was at fault…too much of my own misery leaked through the words. So, I’m rewriting the story, trying to make it more palatable. Because the essay is relatively long, I’ll post it in parts.
I ask readers to understand that prison by its very nature breeds unpleasant experiences, and though I’ll attempt to remove some of my own raw emotion from the narrative, that doesn’t mean I can make it any easier to read.
The issue of race was also a problem for some readers. Race isn’t something I feel qualified or comfortable addressing, but the penitentiary is socially primitive. And however ridiculous, race defines inmates far more than people in the outside world. Let me say that I find racism in any form highly distasteful and don’t condone it. Also note that racism and racial division are not necessarily the same thing. Bi-racial friendships here, while not encouraged, are not uncommon and usually without consequence. Racial division is more a result of circumstance than actual hate. When you create an all-male environment full of deprivation, volatility and uncertainty, it seems inevitable that a tribal culture will result.
Feel free to comment about what you read; otherwise, how can I know if the writing matters?
Commissary Day, Part 1 (Circa 1997)
“Principles have no real force except when one is well fed” — Mark Twain
It’s 4:30 in the morning, and my head must weigh 50 pounds as I part it from the “fire-proof” pillow. It’s not just fatigue. Actual torture probably doesn’t break a person as fast as the apprehension of it. Blindfold a victim, strike him at random, and the blows won’t hurt nearly as much as the pauses. I dread this coming day, and my yearning for return to bed weighs me down; every movement willed.
This penitentiary cellblock is a jungle at the best of times, but on Commissary day it’s like feed-time for a pack of hyenas; ugly passions unleashed. It brings out the worst in people, and I’ve found it to be a study in real human nature. It makes me realize that civilization is only a pretty act. Technology, medicine, law and altruism look good (they look great!), but strip away his luxuries and privileges and man reverts back into what he really is: an animal.
The predators will be out in force today, the scavengers close behind. I’d love to avoid the coming mayhem, just hide in my little cage until the day is past. But like all prisoners, I have debts to pay.
It’s true that the state generally provides for an inmate’s needs: they feed three meals a day, and if you’re ravenous, you might even enjoy them; they give us clothes to share, water, electricity (well, sometimes), and shelter… a truly stout and secure shelter. Yes, prison is a little slice of Utopia, but to be human is to be infinitely unsatisfied with one’s lot. Prisoners search escape from life’s sufferings the same as normal people; though, our yearnings may be a bit more fervent, exacerbated by an environment lacking in sensual stimuli. Our world is devoid of beauty for the eyes and flooded with ugly noise. Pleasant scents are rare, but not as rare as nurturing touch. Other than taste, our senses are starving. Is it any wonder that in such a bland, artificial environment that even a simple sugar treat can be mistaken for an exotic ecstasy and pursued with uncommon vigor?
You cannot ignore Commissary in prison any more than a real person in society can ignore money. Commissary is money. It’s the inmate’s currency, one of the few means to get those little extras that make existence a bit more comfortable. There are those without commissary who will do anything to get it. Need some powdered bleach to wash your clothes? Find a laundry worker and pay him a dollar in food to steal some bleach. Need help to navigate the law and its appeals process? Pay a couple hundred dollars to a jailhouse lawyer… installments are fine. Tattoos, radio repair, art, cigarettes, dope, pornography, and cheeseburgers smuggled from the kitchen. The list is endless, and it can all be purchased with Commissary. The Commissary is the National Bank of the penitentiary.
It’s hard to do without the comforts of Commissary in itself; I’ve tried. Even a die-hard ascetic feels better with a little deodorant and toothpaste. No doubt a guy could survive without it, but I cannot imagine wanting to.
There are rules against trading of any kind, but the rules are unreasonable and everyone knows it, and they’re impossible to enforce. No society in the world could resist trade, especially an incarcerated society.
Last week, I bought a much needed new set of bed sheets (to keep my skin from becoming stuck to the plastic mat I sleep on), some tape to repair my headphones, and some glorious contraband tomatoes (yes, “forbidden fruit”). Altogether I owe about 12 dollars to inmate entrepreneurs — not, generally speaking, the most civil bill collectors. Even if I were willing to do without, and stay in my grilled hole, the debts must be paid. Call me finicky, but I like keeping my blood in the convenient container it came in.
It’s a challenging feat to exercise your Commissary privileges at this prison unit, but it’s not meant to be that way. Prison Commissary, like water in the desert, is an easy sell: It’s a profitable business, and the State likes the texture of our family’s money. They’re not intentionally making it hell to patronize their store — it’s just bad management and employee apathy. They’ve shown it’s possible to give every inmate a chance to make store. There are days when outsiders come to visit our humble abode, and suddenly everything is by the book. The Commissary lady doesn’t take copious breaks to smoke and gossip; the sergeant keeps the line full, and everything runs smooth and bloodlessly. I don’t think there are any special visitors coming today.
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