#VisitAPrison: Reflections on Visiting SCI Chester
By Alexia Pitter
At age seven, I visited my dad in prison for the first time. The walls were dull gray and cracked, mirroring the sadness we both felt. He has been in an Illinois state prison for 24 years now, with 16 more to go.
Back in July, my colleagues and I visited SCI Chester in Pennsylvania. As I entered SCI Chester’s doors, I felt a lot of guilt. How could I be here and not with my father?
Once inside, I saw an incarcerated young man to my right holding a book titled “Criminology,” and a library filled with colorful books. All around us, people were walking to their computer classes or the library, greeting us with smiles.
Next, we visited the Scandinavian Unit. “Little Scandinavia” is a 67-bed unit within SCI Chester, modeled on the more progressive correctional facilities in Scandinavia. The cells were surrounded by green plants, a vivid mural of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, a fluffy black dog named Rosie, and a fish tank filled with plants that appeared to be dancing in the water. The cells resembled homes, with rugs, a TV, and wooden furniture. In all the times that I visited my father in prison, I’ve never seen a prison like this.
One of the correctional officers showing us around shared his initial concerns about the Scandinavian Unit, thinking it would “reward bad behavior.” But his view has changed since that first impression. Now, he’s built closer relationships with the people who live there. He admitted feeling safer than he did before, and is better able to see those incarcerated as humans rather than numbers.
We gathered to talk in depth with some of the residents. I thought about FAMM’s “Visit a Prison” campaign, in which we facilitate prison visits by lawmakers. We asked some of those incarcerated at SCI Chester what they think qualifies as a successful prison visit from a lawmaker or others. The gentleman carrying the “Criminology” textbook suddenly lifted his head, clearly caught off-guard by the question. “I was sentenced to 40 years at the age of 15,” he said. “I am now in my thirties. A good visit is when people take the time to talk to us and see us for who we are, not the crime we committed.”
Another young man, his face as pink as cherry blossoms, began to fight back his tears. “I messed up when I was younger,” he said. “I was lost and felt alone, but since being here, surrounded by mentors, I’ve decided to be a better person, to heal and push myself towards success. I am not perfect, and I will forever live with the guilt, but these guys taught me that I could be better than I once was. I only ask that you take what you learn here and vow to make a change when you leave these prison walls.”
At that moment, I couldn’t help but cry with him. I cried for him, for my dad, and for myself as an affected family member. I wondered, when is the punishment enough? When does compassion become part of the equation? Despite the encouraging words on the walls, the smiles from the correctional officers, and the inviting visiting room, this was still a prison.
After leaving, I suddenly felt the weight of the sun on my back. I realized the privilege I had — the privilege of being able to leave, while they could not.
I then felt my phone ringing in my pocket. It was my dad. I cried again as I explained my guilt for visiting SCI Chester instead of him. He replied, “Baby girl, don’t you ever apologize for visiting a prison. Anytime you visit a prison, it’s okay to think of me because the people there are mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters. No matter what prison they’re in, they are family to me. We are all trying our best to be better people and prove to the world that we deserve to come home. I’m glad you visited because the people there need you the same way I do.”
Instantly, the guilt slipped away. A quality visit to a prison, to me, is a visit that leads with compassion, not judgment. It is asking questions rather than assuming, and most importantly, it is knowing that the individuals there are no different than you. The Scandinavian Unit is a great start, but there is still so much that needs to be done to ensure a more fair and effective justice system.
Lawmakers, when you visit, make sure you don’t just settle for a tour of the classrooms and the library. Ask the staff to meet the people who live there. Talk to them, the same way we did. They have so much to say, and there is a lot to learn to improve the criminal justice system.
Ask your lawmakers to #VisitAPrison! Learn more on our website.
Alexia Pitter is FAMM’s Senior Associate of Family Outreach and Storytelling.
