Free Teresa Deion Harris
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In Deion's own words
WINDOW GIVES ME A TASTE OF FREEDOM, BUT RAZOR WIRE REMINDS ME OF WHERE I AM
By Teresa Deion Smith Harris
I wake up every morning to the banging on my door, keys rattling, or the loud pop of metal doors opening and closing. I look out my narrow but long window to catch a glimpse of the top of buildings far away and hope the sky is clear for a beautiful sunrise. It's a little taste of freedom until I look down and see the razor wire reminding me where I am.
My daily life in prison is taking my situation and making the best of what I have. I have a job that consumes most of my day from 7a.m. to 5p.m., Monday through Friday. During my down time I use the phone to call my family and do the necessary things such as cleaning, laundry, iron clothes, shower and cooking. All this is done per a schedule limited to an hour and a half on weekdays and three hours on the weekend.
No one can completely explain what prison is like. It's something that must be experienced to fully comprehend. But for someone who doesn't know and I hope you never will, it's a secluded place at the end of the earth where authority controls your every movement. It's a place where regardless of the guilty, the innocent, the good, the evil, the abused, the neglected, the sick, the healthy, the mentally ill, the courageous, the cowardly, the rich, the poor, the intelligent, the dumb, and the disabled; we're all herded together surrounded by razor wire and left to survive.
Some of the tougher aspects of being a woman in prison are dehumanizing effects of the emotional bond torn apart from my children as well as having male guards watch me shower, get dressed, or put in a tampon.
The worst part of being in this situation is living with the haunting torture of stigma forced upon my family and the pain I've caused so many people. My inactions left my children motherless and left a mother and father without a son. Living with the fact that I didn't have the courage or recklessness to stand up and prevent the killing of Dennis Brooks Jr. and the excruciating pain I've caused his family and mine.
Some of the most positive moments I've experienced in prison are having a relationship with God; given the opportunity to become a better mother and person; getting sexual abuse counseling; having weekend visits with my children/family; becoming a grandmother, meeting and marrying my husband; meeting the best friend/roommate I've ever had; learning to love and care about others; learning to be responsible, structured, and courageous; getting my apprenticeship in Culinary Arts; meeting the nicest Christian volunteers and attending Church Services; being a TRICOR employee for 14 years; crocheting hats, scarves, afghans, sweaters etc. for children of incarcerated parents, the homeless, hurricane Katrina victims and Union University tornado victims; participating in a five mile walk and raising money for breast cancer awareness; and admitting and understanding who I used to be and forgiving myself.
My treatment from guards and other prison staff is mainly based on how I present myself. Most are indifferent, some can be very controlling and degrading, others can be very professional and nice. Over the years I've learned to respect myself when no one else does.
One of the things I miss from my past life is being a mother. I miss giving my children a bath, brushing their hair, washing their clothes. I miss rubbing their back until they fall asleep and watching them ride their bikes and tucking them in bed at night. I miss not being there as they grew up. I miss sleeping in a comfortable bed at night and going to the grocery store and taking a hot bath. I miss wearing normal clothes and walking outside without shoes on.
It wasn't hard for me to adjust to spending the rest of my life in prison. From childhood I was raped, abused and controlled. I've learned to endure and survive. I have so many regrets, but the main two are not stopping the murder of Dennis Brooks Jr and leaving my children.
If I could leave prison for one day I would like to go to church with my family and feed the homeless.
By Teresa Deion Smith Harris
I wake up every morning to the banging on my door, keys rattling, or the loud pop of metal doors opening and closing. I look out my narrow but long window to catch a glimpse of the top of buildings far away and hope the sky is clear for a beautiful sunrise. It's a little taste of freedom until I look down and see the razor wire reminding me where I am.
My daily life in prison is taking my situation and making the best of what I have. I have a job that consumes most of my day from 7a.m. to 5p.m., Monday through Friday. During my down time I use the phone to call my family and do the necessary things such as cleaning, laundry, iron clothes, shower and cooking. All this is done per a schedule limited to an hour and a half on weekdays and three hours on the weekend.
No one can completely explain what prison is like. It's something that must be experienced to fully comprehend. But for someone who doesn't know and I hope you never will, it's a secluded place at the end of the earth where authority controls your every movement. It's a place where regardless of the guilty, the innocent, the good, the evil, the abused, the neglected, the sick, the healthy, the mentally ill, the courageous, the cowardly, the rich, the poor, the intelligent, the dumb, and the disabled; we're all herded together surrounded by razor wire and left to survive.
Some of the tougher aspects of being a woman in prison are dehumanizing effects of the emotional bond torn apart from my children as well as having male guards watch me shower, get dressed, or put in a tampon.
The worst part of being in this situation is living with the haunting torture of stigma forced upon my family and the pain I've caused so many people. My inactions left my children motherless and left a mother and father without a son. Living with the fact that I didn't have the courage or recklessness to stand up and prevent the killing of Dennis Brooks Jr. and the excruciating pain I've caused his family and mine.
Some of the most positive moments I've experienced in prison are having a relationship with God; given the opportunity to become a better mother and person; getting sexual abuse counseling; having weekend visits with my children/family; becoming a grandmother, meeting and marrying my husband; meeting the best friend/roommate I've ever had; learning to love and care about others; learning to be responsible, structured, and courageous; getting my apprenticeship in Culinary Arts; meeting the nicest Christian volunteers and attending Church Services; being a TRICOR employee for 14 years; crocheting hats, scarves, afghans, sweaters etc. for children of incarcerated parents, the homeless, hurricane Katrina victims and Union University tornado victims; participating in a five mile walk and raising money for breast cancer awareness; and admitting and understanding who I used to be and forgiving myself.
My treatment from guards and other prison staff is mainly based on how I present myself. Most are indifferent, some can be very controlling and degrading, others can be very professional and nice. Over the years I've learned to respect myself when no one else does.
One of the things I miss from my past life is being a mother. I miss giving my children a bath, brushing their hair, washing their clothes. I miss rubbing their back until they fall asleep and watching them ride their bikes and tucking them in bed at night. I miss not being there as they grew up. I miss sleeping in a comfortable bed at night and going to the grocery store and taking a hot bath. I miss wearing normal clothes and walking outside without shoes on.
It wasn't hard for me to adjust to spending the rest of my life in prison. From childhood I was raped, abused and controlled. I've learned to endure and survive. I have so many regrets, but the main two are not stopping the murder of Dennis Brooks Jr and leaving my children.
If I could leave prison for one day I would like to go to church with my family and feed the homeless.
