Healed People Heal Others
A prisoner finds empathy and compassion within himself to heal others.
By Dortell Williams
Despondent. The word doesn’t even begin to describe my mental state on the weary, anxiety-ridden bus ride from Los Angeles County jail north to Pelican Bay State Prison, where I would start my life sentence for murder at the age of 23. But despondent will do. My situation was all due to my warped, violent and selfish thinking. I had no one but myself to blame.
The horror stories of prison I’d heard ran through my head, mentally preparing me to enter the gladiator arena, situated just shy of the Oregon border. I judged myself ready to kill or be killed. As the stories had predicted, I was met on the yard by a series of mean-mugs, time-hardened faces, gangster poseurs and Nazi masks. They barked a steady flow of ominous admonitions: “Don’t cross this line or you’ll get wacked,” “don’t go over there or you’ll get stabbed.” And they called this the recreation yard.
One cold, mildly rainy day, all hell broke loose on the yard with the yell “Ya va!” in Spanish. The calmness of inmates weightlifting, running revolutions around the track and playing handball instantly turned into a melée of swinging fists and feet. The next shouts were from the guards. “Get down! Geeet doooown!”
Boom! A warning shot cracked the air. There was only ever one of those so when the next boom sounded I looked around wildly to see who it was aimed for. The bullet had crashed into the jaw of a young man twenty feet away from me. He collapsed, bleeding profusely on the ground. He never moved again. A deafening silence fell on the yard, broken only by the chatter on the guards’ radios.
For the next three months, we were trapped in our cells on lockdown. I now made it my mission to learn Spanish — for security reasons. But as I got more into the language, I gained an enriching exposure to the culture. While I initially learned the language for practical reasons, my love for it became pure and Latinos are now my beloved brothers.
Fortunately, life guidance and academic advice balanced the violence. It was these things I clung to and thus began my turning point. Thanks to volunteers from Arts in Corrections, a writing class revealed to me my latent potential. My words offered the effect of looking into the mirror for the first time and being delightfully surprised at the man looking back.
The lessons were many and deep at Pelican Bay. They continued when I was transferred to the prison at Lancaster, located in the highland desert of Los Angeles County, where I remain 27 years later. As before, I began with creative writing, improving to the extent that I was encouraged to teach my own class. Another class, called “Catalyst” and instructed by volunteers from Creating a Healing Society, taught me how childhood trauma leads to adult trauma re-enactment. In short, hurt people hurt others. Catalyst aroused my curiosity in victimization, trauma and trauma cycles.
I decided to write to the Insight Project of the Victim-Offender Education Group at San Quentin prison. It was this group that had the most profound effect on my transformation. VOEG distinguishes between physical and emotional trauma. It explained victimization cycles, defined domestic violence and gave me new insights into expressing empathy and compassion.
I proposed holding a victim sensitivity awareness class at Lancaster, which was approved. It turned into a unique safe space for candor and honesty. I am not ashamed to say that my peers and I cried openly in class. We studied victim impact and the seven stages of grief, as well as the facets of trauma: fear, hopelessness, depression, anger and dissociation. We learned the value of making amends.
A year ago, people outside these walls began reaching out to me seeking guidance and healing from their own trauma. My success in this area has given me a new lease on life. I have purpose and ability on my road to transformation. Not only has it been my own road to healing, but a road to healing others. It has been the most satisfying stage of my journey yet.
About the Author
Dortell Williams has made it self-rehabilitation his mission. He recently graduated from seminary school and is pursuing an AA in business and a BA in communication theory from California State University-Los Angeles. A published author, he loves to read, mentor youth and help crime survivors heal from their trauma. He can be reached at H-45771/A5–204 P.O.Box 4430 Lancaster CA 93539 or at dortellwilliams@gmx.com.
