In my last post (“Where did this come from?”), I wrote that I was toying with creating a choral ensemble in a rather unusual space—prison. After letting the idea percolate for a few days, my optimistic and altruistic spirit dominated my thinking and feeling about this unique opportunity that crossed my professional and personal lives.
Sitting on the patio on a warm, summer’s evening (with vodka & tonic in hand), I was pontificating with my captive audience member—my husband—about the potential of my bringing meaningful musical experiences to the “residents”, bringing the aesthetic into a space (the prison) that might not exude much beauty (my assumption), and having the residents explore yet another part of their humanity through music. Then it happened: I heard the voice of reason, and it wasn’t mine.
“Umm, they’re not there for cheating on a math test.” My husband calmly uttered this sentence, and I was immediately faced with the reality of the ensemble’s clientele. Even the worst behaviors I have witnessed in others—the liar, the manipulator, the spousal cheat, the womanizer, the sarcastic and dehumanizing verbal abuser, the backstabber, the out-of-control temper, the arrogant S.O.B., the attention-getting greed monger, and over-ambitious self-promoter—do not compare to the felony crimes the prison residents had committed and for which they had been convicted. How would I ever wrap my head around this fact? How could I relate to who they are and what they had done? How could I look them in the eye and attempt to bring joy and learning opportunity to them?
Crime and punishment. Sure, I watch James Spader (FBI fugitive, “Red” Reddington) & Megan Boone (FBI agent, Elizabeth Keen) bring down the creepiest people in the world on NBC’s “The Blacklist.” (Ok, I also admit to a few episodes of “Hawaii 5-0” and “CSI: Miami”, too!). I read the horrific stories of crime that consistently invade the front pages of our newspapers and view the scrolling headlines of CNN or any daily local newscast. Now crime was close to my world. Maybe these were the “nice” felons that I would direct in the choir(?)
Pulling my head out of the sand was difficult for me. I WANT to trust people. I WANT to see the good in people. And as Dorothy stated to her dog in “The Wizard of Oz”, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto!” Denial is a wonderful thing, until it becomes dangerous to your own personal and emotional well being. No, the residents did not cheat on a math test (well, maybe they did!), but my cadre of singers did assault, rob, murder, rape, and corrupt. These residents had done terrible things to other people and their families. How could I/would I come to terms with the realities of their lives that were about to intersect with mine?
Singing Behind Bars 