Scenes of Prison
18. Malcolm’s Test
A fter working for a couple of years in the special programming Unit and leading my groups, the Mental Health Department decided to take over my group counseling program and replace me with someone from their own department. I had been working with general population inmates every day for two years in my groups, so I knew inmates from all the general population units, and I worked well with them. Bob Houston had moved to a new position with greater responsibility, and his replacement decided to reassign me rather than reintegrate me into the programming Unit. So one day, when I walked into the prison, I received a notice that in two weeks my assignment would change, and I would begin working in E-Unit, a general population unit. It would not be the last time I was assigned to a new unit.
On the appointed day, I reported for work to E-Unit, and over the next few weeks settled into a familiar routine. I got to know the new inmates on my caseload and the new co-workers who worked on this Unit. During my second week, I also had a unique experience with an inmate named Malcolm.
Malcolm was a Black man who lived in E-Unit, but he was not on my caseload. I would have preferred to have gotten to know Malcolm, but getting to know Malcolm was not something he would have allowed. He didn’t speak to staff unless we spoke to him first, and then his conversation was strictly business.
‘Encounter’ is the better term. I encountered him as a staff member on the Unit where he lived and I worked, but only if business required contact between us, so I was surprised one day when Malcolm approached me. He had no business he needed to conduct with me.
I was making my presence felt by moving around the Unit and looking into rooms. It was a principle of correctional control we learned at the Training Academy, and it was similar to a police officer walking a beat.
The officer’s presence, which is wherever a police officer happens to be, is a place where people don’t run red lights. They don’t speed through quiet neighborhoods or snatch purses from elderly women who happen to be walking on the sidewalk. The officer’s presence deters misbehavior and helps keep the peace. People are grateful to see police officers “on the beat.” It helps them feel safer.
This deterrent effect is also true in a prison. When caseworkers move around their Units, they also deter misbehavior and keep the peace, and this contribution is appreciated by inmates, co-workers, and prison management. I tried to do it often.
Back to Malcolm.
I was walking through a common area of the Unit one morning with inmates all around me when Malcolm approached and spoke to me in a low voice: “Mister Larsen,” he said, “I need to talk.”
That sounded like a request for counseling, and it was entirely initiated by Malcolm. That was very unusual considering who Malcolm was. Malcolm was not your usual Nebraska prison inmate.
Malcolm was thirty years old, big, Black, heavily muscled, with vivid tattoos that spread across his arms, neck, and torso. He spent many hours every day on the weight pile bulking up his already massive muscles. He walked with a quiet assurance that he didn’t need to prove anything to anyone, and he certainly never needed counseling. He looked grim, and he looked dangerous. One look at him approaching on a darkened street would make anyone nervous.
“Mister Larsen,” he had said, “I need to talk.”
It wasn’t that long ago that I was a school counselor, and my counselor gear shifted into place. We went to a quiet area in the pantry. He sat down at a table, and I sat across from him. He folded his big hands in front of him and rested his elbows just off the edge of the tabletop. Tattoos on his fingers spread out for me to notice. His forearms were enormous, and I wondered as I looked at those big hands and arms what tales they might tell about his past encounters.
“I’m just having so much trouble in this prison,” he began.
He did not look like a person who would be having any trouble in a prison. Actually, he didn’t look like a person who was troubled at all.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Slowly, haltingly, he began to list stereotypically negative qualities of Black people. He revealed them one at a time, and he insisted he was terribly bothered by them. After describing each quality that offended him, he paused and waited for my reaction.
“So you feel that the Black inmates around you are _________,” I said, “and this is a problem for you.” I searched his face as I spoke.
My counselor training taught me to use active listening and to make reflective comments. I repeated back to Malcolm what I had understood him to say and what I had understood the meaning of these words to be for him, but I caught on pretty quickly that Malcolm was not bothered by Black inmates around him regardless of what he said. He was actually testing me. He was saying out loud the negative, stereotypical prejudices that are well known and held by many white people about Blacks, and he was checking to see if these were present in me. All I had to do was agree with Malcolm that one of the qualities he listed also bothered me. Was I a bigot? Would I be a particular danger to Black inmates, or was I someone that Black inmates could trust, and someone who would give Black inmates a fair chance? These were questions Malcolm wanted to answer for himself and for all the brothers in the prison who looked up to him, listened to him, and trusted his judgment.
Malcolm took his time. He probed again and again. I reflected what he had said each time he probed. I revealed nothing about my own feelings. Finally, I offered some advice. I suggested that he try to be more tolerant of differences in people who bothered him and more patient with them. He thanked me and left.
We did not speak of this again. He didn’t bring it up, and neither did I. I also noticed he didn’t seem to be having any trouble getting along with the other Black inmates who lived in our unit.
Apparently, I had passed Malcolm’s test, and I imagine that he spread the word to others, but it got me wondering what would have been different if I had failed his test. My experience with other Black inmates over the years might have been very different. I also wondered if Malcolm had tested other employees as he had tested me, and I wondered who he might have tested and how they had done. I was glad I passed his test.
Discussion
- Would you have been deceived by Malcolm?
- How would you have responded to him?
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