Locked Up During Lockdown

If one thing is for certain, it's that 2020 has been the year of uncertainty. Back in January, no one would've imagined that over 250, 000 Americans would die of a novel disease in less than nine months or that unemployment would skyrocket because of a global pandemic. No one pictured themselves wearing masks in public or sweatpants to work. No one could've guessed that gyms would close or classes would go online. But the unexpected happened, and we're all having to deal with it, for better or worse.The looming uncertainty of the question 'are we going to make it out okay or even alive?” has caused a feeling of great angst across the country. Disease experts, public health officials and community leaders have advised us to follow basic guidelines for safe behavior, so that we can maintain some sense of control over our seemingly uncontrollable futures. There is no question that the fear, fatigue, frustration and lack of freedom we've experienced as a result has been challenging for everyone, but most of us have been given the choice to follow safety protocols in order to reduce our personal risk.However, roughly 2.3 million Americans living behind bars have been robbed of that choice, resulting in a coronavirus death rate that is more than five times higher in prisons and jails than the nation's overall rate. The question of survival is a question that those living behind bars ask themselves every day. The pandemic has only augmented the uncertainty and intensified the difficulty of survival on the inside.Like the rest of the country, those on the inside had little to no information when the pandemic first hit. But unlike most Americans, who went into lockdown in mid-March, those in prison or jail were victims of a very slow quarantine process that prolonged the spread and increased their risk of exposure. A brutal combination of overcrowding and unsanitary living conditions made it nearly impossible to follow basic safety guidelines like social distancing, causing the virus to spread like wildfire.It took several weeks, or in many cases months, for those on the inside to get access to personal protective equipment, basic sanitary products and testing. Julie W., who is currently incarcerated at Bedford Hills Correctional Facility in New York, says, 'at first they were not allowing masks,” because prison rules prohibit face coverings as a form of disguise. Some women were even ticketed for wearing scarves as masks. It wasn't until mid-to-late April that Julie received a mask from the prison, which didn't even fit her face. It wasn't until August that she received her first test.As prisons slowly began instituting stricter lockdown protocols, quarantine quickly became a scapegoat for solitary confinement. Many prisons began locking people in their cells for 23 hours a day. Unlike most Americans, who had food delivery services, FaceTime and on-demand movies to ameliorate the mental health difficulties that accompany limited in-person interaction, Americans on the inside were left in complete isolation.'Picture yourself locked in your bathroom (8x10 ft) and don't come out for three weeks. You can't open the door by yourself. The door only opens if someone else allows it to be open. Your meals…you can't have whatever you want to eat…they get slid under your door. You can only come out of that little room for one hour a day, and, within that hour, you need to figure out how to do your laundry and take a shower. You can't have your cell phone in there. You can't have anything in there,” Julie says.Those who tested positive were subjected to endure 'even worse conditions, if you can imagine,” Julie says.  Horror stories of quarantine for 24 hours a day, where 'meals were skipped” with no one checking-in made people 'scared to say they were sick in the first place. They were lucky if they saw one person pass by their room in 24 hours.” All this left people in prison reluctant to seek medical attention at all.The few things that make people in prison feel some sense of dignity, in an otherwise dehumanizing situation, are usually visits from family and friends, religious services, and educational programs. All of these outlets are now extremely limited, if allowed at all.Julie says that one of the most difficult parts has been the limited communication she's had with others inside the prison. 'We live with these people on a daily basis, so you grow to care for and be concerned for the people you live with. We are limited in being able to check in on friends and care for each other. We try to look out for one another, and we're not able to fully do that.”One program in New York, called Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA), is trying to bring awareness to this very topic with a pre-recorded theatre production that features messages from the inside about what life locked up during lockdown is like.The play, called 'Lulu, I Hear You,” is a 30-character performance piece based on poetry and stories that RTA received from men and women across the state. The cast is made up of RTA alumni and teaching artists who wish to share the voices of RTA members still incarcerated.Founded at Sing Sing Correctional Facility in 1996, RTA offers a wide-ranging creative arts program in six men's and women's New York state prisons. Over 30 professional teaching artists work year-round to bring innovative workshops and productions in theatre, dance, music, creative writing and visual arts, helping RTA members build skills critical to functioning in all aspects of life. While the national recidivism rate is almost 60 percent, RTA members recidivism rate is less than 7 percent.As for Julie, she says conditions have slightly improved since the summer, although she is still locked in her cell for 19 hours a day. Last month, she was able to finally see her wife and child for the first time since the pandemic hit.'Lulu, I Hear You” will be streamed on Wednesday, December 9, 2020 at 6: 00 pm EST. To watch the production, please visit https: //www.rta-arts.org.