One thing I’ve learned from working with people from all walks of life is that we all have undeniable similarities deep within us. Our job is to pursue, uncover, and empathize with these unspoken commonalities and help each another more fully embrace our humanity.
A couple years ago I had the opportunity of taking a trip with my friend Bob to visit San Quentin. If you aren’t familiar, San Quentin is a state prison located in California. It’s also the birthplace of Johnny Cash’s San Quentin Live album, a staple in all my playlists.
My friend Bob isn’t the type of person you say no to. In fact, I said an exuberant: “Yes!” and quickly found myself on a flight to San Quentin wondering what I was going to say to the inmates of one of the most well-known prisons in the United States.
As I walked through the gate of San Quentin, an internal narrative had begun spinning in my head. Who’s going to be here? What have they done? Am I safe? Would we get back out? Little did I know, but boy did I quickly understand – that I was not there for them. In fact, they were there for me.
Walking around the facility, I was overcome with a sense of peace. San Quentin unexpectedly became one of the safest places I’d ever been in my life. These men made eye contact with us: they welcomed us as brothers and thanked us for being there.
While these spaces are often called prisons, this label is a cover up for their true purpose. Prisons are mental health hospitals. A man in the facility pulled me aside before my talk and expressed his own disdain: “You know, I am really not a fan of labels.”
“We are not inmates or prisoners. We are men who are currently incarcerated and over 90% of us will have a second chance at life.”
This reframing allowed me to restructure the talk I had planned to give and reassess my life moving forward. I no longer wanted to give a talk on what I know, I wanted to show them who I am. Sharing my own story evaporated the differences between myself and the men in that room.
Grace becomes our first language when we put empathy before action. I am grateful for my friends at San Quentin.
