Asian Pride
Gregory Shiga
I have a dinner with a white folk, once when changing ownership of a house. Never have I sat and ate dinner with somebody Mexican nor American African. Worse is for however it happened, never had I ever met one of their gang members. Would you tell me I need to or should? Only a handful, I was friends with and never related.
I hanged around my friends that I liked. Mom would drive us to James’s house in Diamond Bar. And I would ask my mom if we can stay a little longer. She would tell me, 15 more minutes. Her reply as a “yes”, could have been the first surprise. The high was so high, I remember thinking why we did not play thereafter. And the 15 minutes left to play, kept ticking away. I and James could not think of what to do, and we felt sad. These were the worst moments, when going to James’s house. But it seemed as if it occurred only twice. We were about 12 years old.
Notice throughout my life, I had a choice. And lived a happy life, even without money nor girlfriend. And they were all Asians, who were my friends and those around. Japanese, Chinese, Philippine, Korean, and such. Never in my life did I think, there will be a forced captivity. In forcing me to live amongst beings, without my choice or consent. What can you imagine, could happen?
Well, in my 30s, the sheriff’s got involved into my life. Being who they are, as authority above everybody else not in their line of work who were responsible for incarceration, or if needed to define as lockup. Using their law, into forcing people to live amongst who they incarcerate. As they will acknowledge, it is the law. None other way to explain or say nor write it.
The truth is, it must be very difficult to impossible for every ethnic to have to be forced to live with each other. Imagine a young ethnicity having to live in a community with other older ethnics. Yet when they ask the older, should have more. Instead, these older ethnics ask and fortify falsehood. In asking for stuff, since they do not have. It is the opposite way of the grain of life. An the older an younger ethnics has always kept asking. Since they gave to those who asked, they too believe in being given return. Such as from those who has, or can do.
They all see each other. May be what keeps them going. When I have a choice, who do you think I will want to see next to me? Asians just do not mix with prisoners. As all ethnics will say about other ethnics. It is fairly agreed to be rather separate by ethnic. If there aren’t many Asians here, maybe they just do not mix with these ethnics.
I rather be with my friends. It is the worst comma to be here in prison.
Thus, when I see an Asian prisoner, it is almost impossible to have any extra time to talk. The officers force work Ann building locations. Which means a fellow Asian will either have work or live somewhere else. It is meant for segregation. Thus, I have worked on what the officers tell me. And try to avoid any probable causes of the officers to get angry. Such as trying to let a fellow prisoner read my stories. Or share food. Just to see another ethnic of the same, is a privilege worth having. It worked for me.
Writing
Gregory Shiga
Oh my gosh, what kind of treatment is this?! Was and were my thoughts, being ordered to comply in prison. As a man starting his incarceration in 2011, I was getting more and more into the corners of the walls. As if being chopped down out of life. My sentences referenced by the Judge, always becoming longer and longer. And the attitudes of the correctional officers seeming to get worse. They only smile, when opening my cell door. As if I am a caged dog.
Being told by another ethic man, to get into my cell room at 8:30 p.m. is very humbling. But my question is, why do they keep coming back to reopen the doors? And then, to yell at me again, for going over the yellow paint. A fellow prisoner is required my help at their door. And later, when I get a 115 disciplinary violation rule report, who will I blame? The correctional officer not allowing me to talk, Already in accusing of safety of the institution. Or is the rule for socializing! Or will I blame the prisoner for making me talk to him at the door. It is not my fault, he cannot get out of his room.
Every day my interaction with correctional officers has been in a daily routine. Some may realize what I mentioned, and remember. If I get released by the parole board, I will be back in prison. The prisoners believe it and so does the correctional officers. Unless if I do not clean the whole slate. If I do not clean the whole slate and history, do you believe I will be back?
Thus for those who believe in cleaning it at all. There are many options. As a book comma is the law in the same Correspondence As for the Bible? In order to get, or does it have to be placed in the Library of Congress?
Sense all prisoners do not have the constitution, the only rule is according to the Federal Penal System. With so many agendas, It is impossible to know what the future is in store for us. Since the law will not change, why not learn what it is, from the correctional officers?
How I share my knowledge of this current law, with my mom at visit. Being in able to comply, my family will know where I will be in the future. So, unless the law changes, why not follow the correctional officers and their intentions. Exactly of what they know fully of. As they stuck with it, a tremendously emotional job. They could be a better source, then our parents.
When the C.O. tells me, not to wear my regular shoes or shirt to visit. I was hella mad, Because I wanted to show her what she helps me with. Or what about when the C.O. tells me to go back into the room, when yelling at the yard? I’m sure it has happened to you. Just for a little confrontation, or my attitude, the C.O. will make only me to go back into my cell room period embarrassing me in front of everybody.
Yet, when in the cell for nothing to do but think. What was wrong with our attitude? Have we all shared their moments. If it was for the good or bad treatment. I collected myself back together. We all should think this way. Take every positive effect, from every situation to win. Ever wonder how the correctional officers feel? And about the shoes at visit, my mom would have believed her only son is the only hardest worker. With dusty shoes and shirt. Let us all try to fix our errors. Is this what you want?
Poem #1
By Johnny Gouveia & Greg Shiga
It is cold inside,
hands sustaining warmth tide
Mind can wander to draw
relaxing sketching monsters to all
Grabs a pencil to begin
stay out of trouble as decision
That inside that was is tired
snoring without words next retired.
Poem #2
By Greg Shiga
We remember who you are,
were there from sight none far
Me or you but who are you
only but a smile to know Mom too
We all have somebody
and for me, Mom is everybody.
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