From Ghana to Greece to Lakota Sioux Nation: Cultural Diversity in Arts-in-Corrections
The population of inmates and the correctional staff within a jail constitute a community of its own, albeit a transient one, and is also often a reflection of the community outside its walls. One such place is the Montgomery County Correctional Facility (MCCF) in Maryland. A maximum-security facility near Washington, D.C., MCCF houses 800 inmates with remarkable cultural diversity. This diversity reflects the demographics of Montgomery County, fortified by a surge in recent immigrants from 193 nations moving to the metropolitan D.C. area since 1990. Unlike Chicago or Los Angeles, however, this new immigrant population lacks any dominant country of origin; the largest single immigrant group, from El Salvador, comprises only a 10 percent segment. Even more compelling is the fact that 87 percent of these newcomers bypass the city of Washington, D.C. to live instead in the surrounding suburbs, particularly in Montgomery County.[i] How these people are incorporated into our communities and how institutions respond to meet their needs is a challenge that needs to be addressed in many arenas, including correctional systems.
It is in the context of this unusual diversity that Project Youth ArtReach (PYA) of Class Acts Arts has been working for almost 10 years to provide arts programming in several Maryland correctional facilities. Tapping into the wealth of artistic talent living or touring in the area, PYA seeks out professional artists to share their cultural heritage through visual, literary or performing arts. Working with some 40 artists, PYA offers both one-time performances and long-term hands-on residencies to incarcerated people, primarily youthful offenders and women. Because the bulk of PYA programming is in MCCF, this paper will profile the work there.
Drawing on interviews with artists, inmates and correctional staff, this paper describes the success of integrating diverse, skills-based arts programs for offenders in correctional settings. By highlighting distinct attributes of an artist’s culture, the inmate participants learn to recognize differences and commonalities among cultures. This type of educational exchange promotes respect and tolerance while teaching skills and taps into the vast diversity within the Washington D.C. metropolitan area, incorporating artists from around the world, including Ghana, Bulgaria, Greece, Argentina, the Lakota Sioux Nation and South Africa.
The Montgomery County Correctional Facility opened in March 2003 as a state-of-the-art detention facility designed to house male and female inmates who are awaiting trial, sentencing or have relatively short-term sentences (up to 18 months). Warden Robert Green of MCCF says, “There are 123 languages spoken in Montgomery County and our jail population reflects that, making this place fertile ground for delivering diverse arts programs.” The demographics of MCCF show an average of 55 - 57% African-American, African and Haitian inmates; 30 – 32% Latino (which includes inmates from Central and South America and the Caribbean); and 1% Asian. The rest are classified as “White” although a large number of inmates self-identify as being of mixed heritage. Warden Green reports the inmates have a strong identity with family, neighborhood, community and/or school and yet lack fundamental “cultural competency.” Artists who work in the facility are most effective, he says, when “they clearly articulate the source of their artwork and their heritage – essentially the what and the why of their music, art or poetry.” According to Warden Green, the programs help relieve stress, teach lessons and allow for positive shared experiences among inmates. The PYA arts programs “have tremendous bang for the buck: they’re infomercials for cross-cultural understanding in a county that has seen rapid growth in its new immigrant population – and these immigrants arrive here from all over the globe.”
Back in the spring of 2004, Project Youth ArtReach had yet to earn the support of the correctional staff. At that time, Warden Green cautiously consented to a one-time performance arranged by Class Acts Arts for the youthful offenders by the Quebec band, Le Vent du Nord. His initial reaction to the suggestion was to point out, “We have no French inmates here at MCCF.” He was persuaded this was a high caliber group of musicians who, while they sang in French, spoke English and played lively, infectious music. This program would “test the waters,” to see if the cultural arts programs from Class Acts Arts’ Project Youth Art Reach would be worthwhile for inmates and workable for staff. How would a group of Quebecois performers – playing strange instruments including spoons, bones, violin and hurdy-gurdy – connect with a group of 64 offenders, ages 15 – 21, most of whom were African-American, Latino or of mixed heritage?
The day of the performance, four inmates helped the musicians to set up on the two-tiered unit, moving tables and arranging rows of chairs on the lower level. As luck would have it (and an element of luck never hurts) one of the performers strapped on tap shoes and one of the inmates, surprised, asked why. “I step, I use my feet as a percussive instrument,” explained Benoit. To which the inmate replied, “No kidding! I go-go!” The ensuing performance and exchange – which included traditional songs of rural Quebec and a translation of each – was punctuated by a dance off between the 50-year-old Quebec stepper and the 18-year-old dancer from D.C. Other inmates tried their hand at playing the instruments as the musicians spoke of learning music at their kitchen tables. The band was given a standing ovation, and the warden spoke to the inmates: “I have learned a valuable lesson today. I did not think you would like this music, and it seems you do! ”
The warden and staff were open and willing to try the program, there was inmate buy-in, the artists were genuine and talented, and the performance was one of mutual respect. This approach – plus careful planning – is the formula for successful programming.
Native American storyteller Dovie Thomason, another artist working with Project Youth ArtReach, has had similar experiences. She tours internationally telling stories from her Lakota Sioux and Kiowa Apache traditions and from her adopted Iroquois heritage. Dovie says, “My culture, art form and curriculum are inextricably interwoven. Through story, I am introducing core values from my ancestors, which include respect for individual differences, good relationships within the community, social responsibility (over personal rights), self-control, perseverance and generosity.” Yet her stories are “non-preachy,” she says, which makes them accessible to audiences within correctional facilities. In fact, it is quite common for participants to proudly share with her that they have some Native American ancestry, though they are typically unsure which tribe.
Dovie will often share a story then ask the listeners to weigh in: What was this story about? Who was right (there’s often debate)? What other paths might the characters have chosen? Once comfortable with her, the inmate participants are encouraged to ask questions and they do: Have you ever made a canoe? Do you have buckskins at home? What do think about the name “Redskins” for the football team? Do you feel victimized by the American government? These questions open a dialogue that gives Dovie the opportunity to respond to misconceptions about Native people and allows her, her people and culture to, as she says, “become real and multi-dimensional.”
One of the musicians who has an ongoing presence in the arts-in-corrections programs facilitated by PYA is Kwame Ansah-Brew, a master drummer from Ghana. Dressed in African garb, Kwame totes between 10 and 20 drums – primarily djembe – into the facilities. He begins his workshops in palm drumming with simple call-and-response exercises. Invariably, the participants are enthusiastic at the start but then their hands begin to tire. This is when he will take a break and begin to talk about Ghana, how the music is connected to life cycle events, how it is used to motivate and keep rhythm while villagers plant yams or to praise God. Then the questions come: How did you learn English? Do you live in a hut? What is kente cloth used for? Do all Ghanaians smoke weed? This gives Kwame an opportunity to dispel myths and teach about Africans in general and Ghanaians in particular. During one session at the jail, Kwame performed with his musician partner, Kofi Dennis, as the duo “Anansegromma.” An inmate told them how meaningful it was to hear the rhythms of their music because it took him “back to Jamaica,” his homeland. This opened up a discussion about the slave trade from Ghana to Jamaica, bridging African and Caribbean cultures. Kwame and Kofi then talked about how hip-hop, reggae and other musical genres have borrowed from Ghana. Their presentation, their “infomercial,” for the inmates was at once a window into a little known culture and a link to pop culture.
Inmates say the drumming is great because they “get to make noise and spontaneously dance.” One said. “We get to lead or freestyle, other times we have to listen and follow.”[ii] Others spoke of learning about “occupational songs” from the Ivory Coast that encourage teamwork. The supervisor on the unit, Bonnie Robinson, said the drumming workshops “break down barriers between group of guys. The inmates exhibit discipline, respect, leadership. Someone who may have been shy, gets up and dances, and then the other guys raise both their hands and sort of wave them up and down, rocking, nodding their heads, like bowing to him out of respect for his dance skills, if they’re impressed. I can only let 15 inmates participate at one time in the class, so another 35 – 45 are locked in their cells, but loud as it is, they’ve never complained. I think everyone likes hearing the rhythms.”
Visual arts programs work particularly well in correctional settings. One teaching veteran of jails is Maria Anasazi, a Greek-born sculptor who has taught mask-making, book-making and assorted small sculpture and mixed-media classes to both male and female inmates. While she feels “very Greek” and admits to being from a homogenous society (“you knew what everybody cooked on Sundays in their homes”), she never considers herself to be different in an “ethnocentric way.” Despite that, she says the youthful offenders don’t see her as a person of color, nor do they think of her as white. They think of her as “other,” as a kind of neutral. This allows her, along with her deep commitment to a project and an intense “cut the crap” manner, to get right down to the business of making art with her students. Her perspective allows her to admire many cultures and she communicates this to her students. If anything, she says, her roots are one of poverty, which led to making things by hand: “My father was a pastry maker and my mother sewed.” Participants are surprised to learn she has no TV and knows little about popular culture, and yet her ability and enthusiasm in crafting masks, hats and books by hand is by extension her cultural contribution to their learning.
Affectionately dubbed the “fishbowl room” by the artists, the glass-walled multipurpose rooms are where the visual arts workshops at MCCF are held. They are located outside the unit dormitories where supplies, tightly controlled in this maximum-security detention center, are more easily accounted for. Some 10 – 12 inmates volunteer for any given series of workshops, which are held for 8 – 16 weeks, for one 2 – 3 hour afternoon session per week.
Working with the women’s unit, Maria’s last residency focused on using the idea of clothing as a “form of identity.” The women (ages 16 – 65) first created small designs for flat-doll structures, using assorted fabric, buttons and other items; they then moved on to create larger pieces, the size and shapes of full skirts, integrating block printing, photos, textured cloth and other fabric. These pieces were meant to be a form of self-portrait. For example, one of the female inmates, from Guatemala, used green mesh to create a skirt, then tied onto it alternating rows of cloth roses and “thorns” to represent the beauty and pain in her life. [iii]
More than one inmate has expressed surprise when they learn Carien Quiroga is from South Africa because, they say, she is white. “I thought all Africans were black,” is something she has heard often inside correctional facilities. Carien gives her students a brief overview of the history of the continent, describing how much of Africa was “colonized” by whites. She talks gently about the suffering that went on in South Africa under apartheid and about many difficult issues regarding violence towards women, children and the environment in her native country. She shares with them images of her artwork, which addresses these issues of injustice. Also forming the basis for some her personal sculptural work are themes of uprootedness and isolation as a new immigrant. Cultural deracination is familiar to many of the people with whom she works in Montgomery County, including inmates at the jail.
Carien leads workshops in mixed media and mural arts, and encourages dialogue between the participants. One inmate said, “Where the artists are from, and what they’ve been through, is relevant; their environment, their belief. They share that and we can’t help but learn something from that. Carien talked about liberty and freedom and what that has meant in South Africa. Those are important themes to us, too. Now we’re working on a mural with her and it’s about unsung, everyday heroes. So we talked about what that means to each of us.”
More subtle, perhaps, are the poetry workshops with Bulgarian-born poet, Lyubomir Nikolov, who came to the United States almost 20 years ago. Lyubo senses some initial suspicion of him when he begins his classes inside the facilities: an unfamiliar accent, efficiency of words, strange language (he reads his poems in Bulgarian as well as in English, and writes some of the words on the board). In Bulgaria, riddles and proverbs are considered national treasures: expressing oneself in only a few words is considered an attribute. His love of language and his low-key manner tends to draw participants into conversation and encourages them to write. “When Lyubo reads his poems, it’s like music, it’s lyrical, the way it sounds. Even though I don’t understand [the Bulgarian language] the words, I feel the emotions of the poems,” says one of his workshop participants. Another poetry participant said, “I like the balance between culture and skill taught in the workshops.”