Proximity for Justice organized the first TEDx prison event in the Commonwealth of Virginia at Green Rock Correctional Center in Chatham.
Proximity for Justice is a nonprofit organization focused on criminal justice reform and decarceration, also helping inmates gain necessary skills to successfully re-enter society, “become productive, law-abiding, and taxpaying citizens, thus increasing public safety for everyone,” and remain out of prison, according to the organization’s mission statement.
Part of that mission is raising awareness, and letting incarcerated people share their stories.
A live TEDx event was hosted at Green Rock Correctional Facility in Chatham on Tuesday, May 7, to work toward that end. It was the first TEDx to be held in a prison in the Commonwealth of Virginia, according to organizers.
“It’s especially important in the U.S. because even though we only make up 5% of the world’s population, we have a quarter of the world’s prisoners incarcerated in this country,” said Delia Cohen, founder of Proximity for Justice and primary organizer of Tuesday’s event.
Proximity for Justice has helped put on multiple TEDx talks at different correctional facilities nationwide over the years. Delia Cohen, founder of Proximity for Justice, has organized these events since 2013.
“We bring CEOs, community leaders, victims of crime, philanthropists, law enforcement, public policy makers, academics, and formerly incarcerated people together inside prisons with those who live and work there in events designed to encourage dialogue, forge connections, and inspire change,” the mission statement says.
After being hired by TED, Cohen started researching the ways the popular TEDx events were used around the world, specifically in pushes for social change. TEDx events are independently-organized TED-style events, licensed by the TED company
“I started doing research about the TEDx organizers around the world, and I found out that three countries had held TEDx events in prisons. It was Spain, Moldova, and the U.S.,” Cohen said. “I had never been in prison, but I thought, ‘Who on earth, in prison, is sitting around watching TED talks, let alone having events? Who is speaking at them? Who’s attending them?’ So, just really, really curious.”
After reaching out to some TEDx organizers in U.S. prisons, Cohen learned of an upcoming event at an Ohio prison. She decided to attend and see what it was all about. What she saw amazed her, she said.
“The humanity of the men inside, the amazing stories, how many misconceptions I had about prisons just from the media, so I decided then and there that I was going to – because these guys had a great model, but were in prison – that I would try to spread their idea to prisons in different states around the country, and I’ve been doing that ever since, and that was 11 years ago,” Cohen said.
Two of the biggest issues in the U.S. prison system, Cohen said, are racism – with an overwhelming amount of Black people incarcerated – and a habit of incarcerating people “for way too long.”
“I do believe people who commit violent crimes need to be removed from society and punished both for public safety, and as a consequence of their actions, but I believe prisons should be places where there can be rehabilitation, and I think the biggest problem in the U.S. is that we incarcerate for way too long,” Cohen said. “We give people 70 years for sentences, and we end up paying to incarcerate them well past the time when they’re a threat to public safety when they could be out contributing to society, and paying taxes. Instead, our taxes are paying to keep them locked up well beyond the time when we should have them.”
The events impact more than just incarcerated individuals.
“At first, I thought I was about just getting the authentic voices of people who live and work in the prison out on the platform, but I didn’t realize that for the outside attendees, it was transformative for them, too,” Cohen said.
Through spoken word, personal testimony, and musical numbers, multiple Green Rock residents shared their experiences publicly. They were joined by other speakers including a victim of violent crime who shares her story in prisons; a judge who once thought drug treatment courts were too “soft” on crime, but became converted; and law enforcement professionals.
Some Green Rock residents said prison freed them, in many ways. They finally had access to education; job skills development and trade certifications; structure; helpful programs to aid their mental and physical health needs, and to help break addictions. Some of them did not know how to read upon entering the system, but have since gained literacy, which was life-changing. Many took advantage of the programming offered through the Virginia Department of Corrections seeking to better their own lives and behaviors, and the lives of others. Multiple Green Rock residents have obtained at least an Associate’s Degree, and/or trade certifications during their time spent incarcerated.
A common denominator among Green Rock residents who spoke was poverty, or growing up disadvantaged.
Del. Rae Cousins, of the 79th district of the Virginia House of Delegates, grew up in an impoverished, predominantly Black section of Richmond. The older she got, the more marked the difference stood out between where she lived, and where she attended school during the day, which was in a predominantly white, more affluent neighborhood. She recounted the story of a cousin who was incarcerated for a time.
Multiple factors, often rooted in the policy and systemic level, contributed to creating these areas of poverty and hold them in a perpetual cycle, Cousins said, including the racially-based practice of red lining and by cramming places like her childhood neighborhood with high concentrations of public housing, keeping some neighborhoods in a cycle of poverty and disadvantage. In her home city, Cousins said at least five public housing communities were installed within a one-mile radius. Grocery stores with fresh, nutritious food and things like medical centers are not found in these neighborhoods. If residents do not have transportation, they cannot access those resources. The factors are a conglomeration of socio-economic and racial disparities.
One of Virginia’s issues related to prisons, Cousins said, is keeping people incarcerated “long past the time that it is productive to do so.” Virginia spends roughly $1.5 billion a year on keeping people incarcerated, she said.
“In 2020, Virginia had one of the highest incarceration rates in the United States. The number decreased between 2021 and 2022 thanks to criminal justice reform legislation passed by the General Assembly, namely earned sentence credits and probation reform,” she said. “As of 2023, Virginia still ranks in the top 10 of highest incarceration rates in the United States. We come at number nine.”
Even so, Cousins said the Virginia Department of Corrections’ updated mission statement and value of service “suggests to me is that our corrections framework is intended to rehabilitate, not to continue to incarcerate people beyond the point of which they would be productive residents in their communities.”
Work is being done, but there is still a way to go.
“While the General Assembly has done a lot of work to address mass incarceration, there are still people who need our help who were sentenced under draconian mandatory minimum laws here in the Commonwealth,” Cousins said.
She also highlighted the racial disparities seen among incarcerated people.
“Forty-three percent of people in jails and 53% of people in prisons are Black, although Black people only make up 20% of Virginia’s population,” Cousins said. “Black youth make up 20% of Virginia’s population, but account for 43% of juvenile intakes and 56% of retainees. With numbers this disproportionate, it is incumbent upon us to figure out why mass incarceration has continued in our Black communities for such a long time.”
While she said consequences must be faced for choices and actions, Cousins also said it is easier to make good decisions when a person has access to the resources they need.
“We are talking basic needs like a good education, clean and safe housing, fresh whole foods, healthcare, and parents who are able to be present,” she said.
Part of what turned some Green Rock residents to the streets and ultimately to crime, they said, was the sense that they had to provide for their family – especially those who grew up in a single-parent household. As children, they did not have their own money, and so resorted to alternative ways of obtaining resources, including robbery and drug dealing. School was not a main priority for most from a young age, and multiple current Green Rock residents said they could not read at the time they were incarcerated – but they finally learned to once they had the resources and time, and gaining literacy was transformative.
Tyson Curley, a Green Rock resident, said he started selling drugs and “playing with guns” at the age of 12, never thinking then about how these behaviors harmed others. After he got sentenced to prison on his first felony conviction at age 19, he decided to “treat prison like college” and enrolled in as many education and trade courses as he could, making good grades on his work. He developed a passion for educating others, as well. Curley focused his studies particularly on finance and economics, and his ultimate goal is to establish a financial management non-profit to help recently-released incarcerated people set themselves up for success in society.
The nonprofit he is developing is “designed to teach money management strategies to recently-released inmates in the homeless community, because money is control and power,” Curley said. “It is the understanding and knowledge of money that is the glue to bridge the gap to opportunity for all, and my nonprofit provides the tools and knowledge of financial literacy so those individuals never come back to prison again.”
Curley is studying for a career in HVAC, and said his dream is to attend Duke University for a MBA.
Developing a “ruthless reputation,” as Michael Dwyer said, was another survival mechanism and way to protect one’s family. Cultivating those habits destroyed empathy and remorse, several speakers said. It took time and hard self-work to reconnect what was broken, and restore those elements of humanity.
Terry Brown is 44 years old, and has been incarcerated for 23 of those years for killing someone during a robbery. The violence he once participated in tragically followed his family, while he was incarcerated. In 2017, Brown’s son died of a gunshot wound to the head.
“When my son passed, only one person immediately came to my mind, and that was the mother of the man I had murdered,” Brown said. “I’ve never felt more pain or sadness, but no feeling was greater than my remorse and contrition for taking someone’s life. I finally felt that emotion that opened me up to true remorse once I was forced to endure what that same parent [had]. Even though I found remorse and contrition, to this day I still struggle with making amends. I honestly don’t know where to start. I know saying ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t enough. I can’t give an excuse for my actions; no one deserves to die like that. Nothing will justify my actions that night.”
Last year, Brown lost his other son, bereaved a second time. He said he wants to channel these experiences into mentorship for others, to help educate and better those who are at-risk or are part of that same cycle, and prevent repeats of his story.
“If I’m being honest, I wouldn’t have changed my ways without prison. If I hadn’t been locked up, eventually I’d have been killed myself,” he said.
Several other Green Rock residents, also serving sentences for violent crimes, have each lost at least one child or family member to violence like the kind they once engaged in.
Reform was not immediate for Brown, a statement many other Green Rock residents shared.
“When I first got to prison, my bad decisions didn’t change. I tried every prison vice known to man. I lied, stole, gambled. I’d been in fights. I was doing everything except the right thing, and the funny thing is, I’ve always known better, but for some reason or other, I just refused to do better,” he said.
Despite this, losing his child made Brown a different man.
“I redirected my focus, and I started necessary steps in order to break my thinking and change my behavior.”
Brown earned his GED during incarceration.
Brown said he now has respect and empathy, and recognizes the impact his previous actions had on both the parents of his victim, and his community at large. He said he has come too far to go back, and will continue to keep fighting and be the man his sons expected him to be – and be better for his daughter and grandchildren.
Many Green Rock residents were also victims of child abuse or neglect. Jerrell Smallwood, whose birth father threw him down the stairs when he was an infant, said he still has scars on his legs from where he was repeatedly, savagely beaten by his mother’s string of abusive boyfriends.
“Statistics indicate that child abuse survivors are at an increased risk for delinquency, drug use, and imprisonment,” Smallwood said. “The statistics plagued me as an adult.”
During his incarceration, Smallwood’s mother later apologized for his upbringing and the ways it impacted his future. He urged adults in attendance to be mindful of how they discipline their children, and to recognize abuse.
Others described their parents doing drugs in front of the children, and many witnessed or experienced domestic violence.
Being a father is a huge part of Green Rock resident Michael Hill’s identity, and he focuses his work on mentorship. His children, who are now adults, were the catalyst for Hill to strive to make better choices and set himself on a positive path.
After a visit one day when his son was young, Hill said, “My son called out to his mother saying, ‘Mama, I changed my mind. I don’t want to be like my daddy anymore.’ She asked, ‘Why not?’ He responded, ‘Because I don’t want to go to jail.’ Hearing those words hurt me more than prison ever could. So I decided to become that man, the man that my son had wanted me to be. I realized that being a father isn’t contingent upon your location. The judge may have given you time, but what I do with it is up to me.”
Hill has used that time to mentor others, from substance use programs, to GED tutoring, mentoring for re-entry, and poring over resources to educate himself in a variety of subjects.
“My children have been the driving force behind my success, and my desire to help make a difference in the lives of others. Their love gives me the strength to overcome my trials and tribulations of my incarceration. You see, pride may have taken me away from my children, but my pride as a father is going to lead me back to them,” he said. “Misguided pride leads to bad choices, regret, and sorrow. However, pride does not have to be a bad thing. It just has to be focused in the right direction.”
Hill is certified in HVACR and electrical, and hopes one day to combine his business and real estate knowledge to provide safe, affordable housing, as well as offer after-school programs for the children of single parents geared toward developing life skills and financial literacy.
Personal accountability is something many Green Rock inmates have come to embrace. Residents spoke of how they came to respect authority, have empathy for fellow human beings, became more thoughtful, learned to see their own potential and take advantage of education, behavioral, and mental health programs, and work to be the best versions of themselves possible.
Alejandro Ruiz started out with a career as a soldier in the U.S. Army, at age 19. The Private First Class excelled at what he did.
“My work ethic was excellent. I’d be the first to volunteer for assignments, first to sign up for classes, top scores in PT,” he said.
Ruiz looked like he had it all together – but he didn’t. He turned to alcohol and tobacco to cope with the struggles he faced, and the substances triggered bad decisions that led to a 27-year prison sentence, of which he has served 13 years.
“But, that’s only part of my story,” Ruiz said.
After a couple of years, Ruiz realized he had a destination in mind for where and who he wanted to be, but he had no “current location” to start from. Once he realized this, he began long, hard, deep introspective work. He sought to “bridge the gap” between who he was, and who he wanted to be.
“Looking at myself critically and honestly allowed me to challenge certain beliefs, and broaden my perspectives. I was able to see the counterproductive nature of those beliefs, and my worldview shifted,” Ruiz said. “I understood almost instantly that I wasn’t a victim of my circ*mstances. No. I was a product of my decisions, and it was then that I understood a core and fundamental way what responsibility truly is. From that point on, my journey began, and I was on my path.”
Ruiz spent hours studying every day, especially in all things finance-related. He also surrounded himself with other incarcerated people working to better themselves and make different choices. One such group he was part of got out of prison, and are running a tech start-up, he said.
“When stories of prisoners are told, such productive people often get left out, but they are actually common,” he said. “I am a product of my decisions, so I am the captain of my fate, and I decided to become better than any category people try to put me in. I think what tends to hold us back is our tendency to confirm our own biases. If you think you can’t, you can’t. If you think you can’t, you won’t. It’s crazy how potent the smallest seeds of doubt can be – but understand, we will all face adversity. We will all make mistakes. We will all have shortcomings. All of this is inevitable and will cause you to doubt yourself, but choosing to believe in yourself will provide you with the resiliency to press on.”
Cohen said her ultimate hope is that attendees, and those who hear about the event, come to see the humanity in everyone else.
“There are so many dividing lines between people: Democrat, Republican, prison guard, prisoner, outside person, inside person. I want everybody to see that we’re all just people, and that’s kind of the message of these events, is about our shared humanity, which I think people forget that prisoners are actually people, and that there’s a whole society,” she said.
The TEDx talk was recorded, and will be available to view on YouTube in a few weeks.
