A tiny glimpse into the place I’ve come back to..

Hello Crispaz supporters! First, I’d like to thank all of you for your continued support and prayers. Below is a tiny glimpse into the place I’ve come back to, based on many conversations I’ve had with loved ones in this short time I’ve been back.

 

I’ve been back for two weeks now and in just two weeks have managed to be floored again and again by the lives of the youth I work with in prisons.

 

It has been a sobering and heartwarming homecoming to return to the prisons here. I have reencountered the same youth that I left two months ago, exactly where I left them, with yet more of their young lives swallowed away by the same 4 walls, the same faces, the same mindless routine.   

 

They’ve welcomed me back into their cells and their hearts and have given me an even closer look at the fury, fear, resentment, and longing for love that reside there and struggle for power each long day locked up.

 

The more I work with these young people, especially with incarcerated males (who have much grimmer prospects of “making it” based on the politics of repression and elimination that are practiced by “anti-gang” squads here), the more I am enraged and saddened by the fact that most of them will simply not make it.

 

The youth who manage to get out of jail whom I’ve kept up with and who have genuine interest in turning their lives around end up simply running for their lives each day. Ironically enough, this is not primarily because rival gang members will kill them (thought that is a very real threat), but because the police force will do so first.

 

If the police do not manage to “disappear” these youth coming out of detention centers, they will detain them upon spotting them in the street (or drag them from their homes in the middle of the night) and pin them with any crime that has happened within a credible radius. These youth will then be sent off (likely without fair trial) to spend 30+ years in the hellholes that are the overflowing adult prisons here.

 

I wish I were exaggerating, yet this has been the story of even the most studious and driven young gang members that I have met in this ministry thus far.

 

Loving and working with these youth means answering their startled phone calls telling me that the police opened fired on them for no reason at all, and that they barely escaped the bullet-spray. It means listening to their whispered fears that as soon as they get out of jail to finally live with their young wives and infants they are terrified that the police will pull them out of their beds at night and take them far away from the children they’ve so longed to love in a way they were never, ever loved. It means watching them grimace, lost for words, while describing the way they’ve witnessed slow deaths, wishing I could erase it all and rewrite the whole script. It means giving them constant affirmation, because it just might be the first time they’ve ever heard anything of the sort.

 

Blog entries are probably supposed to end on some upbeat quote like Disney movies, but many of these young lives end on no such note. I just ask that you find them and love them in cities near you and listen to their lessons and longings.

Jenna Knapp
CRISPAZ Long Term volunteer.

Bienvenida! (Emily Engel)

Emily Engel

Bienvenida!

At least that’s what they’ve been saying to me this past week in Suchitoto. “Welcome Emily,” “thank you,” I tell each woman in gratitude as they welcome me into their lives. I would say that they welcome me into their ‘office and work’, but the truth is that this work, the defense of women who encounter violence, is their life. The multiple women that I have had the privilege to get to know this past week live to defend women and prevent more cases of violence against them. Some women on the executive board come from situations of violence themselves, and others simply believe in the right to a life free from violence. A life of happiness and not fear. A peaceful life.

This is a belief that I too share with these women. As I studied more and more psychology at Gonzaga University, I discovered that Latinos, women’s empowerment, and sexual health were my interests. In addition, I received a minor in Mathematics because prior to studying psychology I was a math major, but found the subject tedious after some time. For those of you unsure of where Gonzaga is located, it is in Spokane, WA, near the border with Idaho. However, I’m from a small town north of Seattle called Snohomish. I’ve lived there my whole life, except when studying abroad in El Salvador with the CASA de la Solidaridad program in the Spring of 2011. It was during that semester that I fell in love with the people and the culture, minus machismo. I decided mid-way through my semester that I had to return and thus here I am!

Although El Salvador has a history of violence, I truly believe that the work of APDM, of whom I will accompany for the next year, has made, and will continue to make, huge strides in reducing the violence in this country. The way that one begins this process is with herself. Later, her community, then her province, and then her country. APDM, Asociación para el Desarrollo y Defensa de la Mujer, or in English, Association for the Development and Defense of Women, has successfully began to defend and educate women in this province. APDM has gained the support of the community, the mayor, police, schools, and many other organizations in Suchitoto. I will continue to accompany APDM and learn more about the varying roles within this organization, of which I can aid more directly in the coming months.

I want to personally thank the family and friends of Dennis O’Connor and the donors of the Dennis O’Connor Memorial Fund. I had the opportunity to read the blog post announcing Dennis’ passing, of which many contributed with heartwarming stories. I then followed the link to read “Another day in Cancerland” written by Dennis himself. He spoke endearingly about a woman named Peggy Hollingsworth who told Dennis multiple times, “You do great work for CRISPAZ, but you can’t do it if you’re dead.” Well, although Dennis has gone before us, he lives in each of us, whether we knew him directly or not. It is because of you, the family and friends of Dennis, and the donors to his memorial fund that make it possible for me to attempt to do great work for CRISPAZ, just as Dennis did. It is because of you that I am in El Salvador volunteering and assisting this women’s movement in the fight against violence, a cause that I’m sure Dennis would support. So, thank you once again for your generous donations in supporting CRISPAZ volunteers like me.

Con amor,

Emily

CRISPAZ Compañera

We are very happy to welcome Emily Engel, our new compañera (Long-Term  Volunteer), to the CRISPAZ Family.

Hello friends, family, and Crispaz supporters./ from Jenna Knapp CRISPAZ Compañera (Long Term Volunteer)

      I hope this finds you well, wherever you are! I just wanted to write a quick update about the work I continue to do thanks to CRISPAZ’s generous supporters

 These past few months have been a whirlwind, hence the lack of blog entries, but they have been quite full of activity.

As Maria explained, we have been working with male youth in a detention center doing art therapy workshops, and we have also been working with amazing young women a minor’s detention center in Ilopango. The young women we work with are so full of life and dreams yet most of them serve 5 to 15 year sentences for crimes they may or may not have committed. Since the maximum sentence for minors was raised from 7 to 15 years, youth coming into the centers are even more overwhelmed and have less motivation to “change” knowing that they will be living so many years within the same walls.

            Our work consists mostly in one-on-one sessions with about 30 of the women in the center, where we listen to their fears, secrets, aspirations, and often unspeakable pasts and simply write as they speak. Through this simple exercise the girls realize that they are already poets and that they speak of a wisdom that comes from lessons learned in the streets, one that has everything to do with a gritty reality far different than that which scholars paint with their prose.

        Having done this exercise repeatedly for a year and a half with the majority of the women in the center, we can see that the culture of the center in itself is beginning to change slightly. Girls come to us with 10 poems that they’ve written on their own, wanting us to type them and give them back to them for their portfolios.

They tell me things like  “I was so sad one night I did not even want to exist, but there was a tiny ray of light shining onto my bunk bed so I got out my pen and began to write. Here’s what I came up with, I don’t know if it’s any good…” And inevitably the ensuing words speak of doubts, insecurities, hardship, and a longing for a God that they perhaps have yet to feel fill the spaces of neglect and abuse these women have suffered for years.

            Others will tell me, “I was bored to death in computer class because all we do is play solitaire, so instead I wrote these poems, I don’t know if they’re any good…” And again their words shock me as they reveal themselves as the poets they have always been, yet perhaps are finally expressing for the first time.

            At times this work can be exhausting, overwhelming, and can seem like such a tiny drop in the bucket of ignorance, abuse, and discrimination that plague these women’s lives, yet there are always rays of hope that illuminate our work in the Center. Recently as I was leaving, one of the young women who I have come to love as if she were a long-lost sister of mine told me “You know, I barely know you, but I feel that you are one of those people who has really marked my life, because you’ve helped me to discover who I really am.”

            Her words floored and humbled me, and I left with such a feeling of gratitude. Despite the multitude of setbacks and despair we encounter in our work, if I can facilitate others’ discovery of their true selves, their loving, well-intentioned, God-like selves, this work is well worth the effort.

Jenna Knapp 

CRISPAZ Compañera (Long Term Volunteer)

Circle of compliments

Circle of compliments

By: Maria Hoisington, CRISPAZ Compañera (long-term volunteer)

      Jenna and I have run art therapy workshops in the 'El Espino' you detention center with members of the 18th Street Gang since November of 2011. Our main goal is to provide a space for self-expression and healing for these boys that have suffered so much trauma and loss in their lives. They blur the line between "victim" and "victimizer", as many of them experienced severe abuse and violence as children and adolescents before getting involved in the gang life.

           

     El Espino is a complicated place to work, because although all of the 140 boys are members of the 18th Street Gang, there are internal divisions and conflicts between sectors. For the past two months, we have worked with Sector 3, the smallest and most vulnerable sector that is made up of boys that are isolated because of problems with the gang, born-again Christians and others that no longer want to continue as active gang members.

             

    On the last day of our workshops with Sector 3, we placed the chairs in a circle, all of them facing  inward except one.

         

   "This is a circle of compliments. Who knows what a compliment is?” we asked.

   "It's what you think of someone!" "It's when you say something nice about your friend!" "When someone does something you like!"

          

   "Great. Who would like to go first? Everyone will have the chance to receive compliments, sitting in the chair with their back facing the group. The rest of us have the opportunity to compliment him or her if we like."

  
   Silence. Nobody moved. Everyone was embarrassed to go first, most because of the fear that no one would say anything nice about them. They constantly hear negative comments from their peers, family members, society, detention center staff and the courts. You can't do anything right. You deserve to be locked up because of your own bad choices. You're a bad person, you better change. I hope something horrible happens to you. You should have never been born. Even among friends, it is more common to tear each other down than build each other up.

          

     "Ok, I'll go first. But you guys better say something nice," said one of the boys, reluctantly. He got up and sat with his back facing the group. Everyone stared at each other for a moment, until one by one they asked for the marker that we used as a talking stick. The compliments started pouring out as all of the boys passed through the hot seat, hearing, but not seeing, their peers as they showered them with positivity.

         

    "I admire you. You're walking on God's path and it's not a path for cowards like me that are active 24/7 in the gang. It's the path of the brave. I envy you because I haven't been able to make that choice."

       

    "I don't really know you that well, but one time I was sitting in a corner and I felt really bad. You came over and asked me what was going on and listened to my problems. I really appreciated that."

       

   "You're a great friend and I love you. We do everything here together. We hang out together, study together, and sleep in the same bed. You always do whatever you can to make people feel better when they feel sad."

        

    "I'm gonna tell you the truth, you have an angry temperament. Just as one gospel hymn says, 'Jesus, make my temperament more like yours', ask God to help you."

       

    "You're my homeboy and I love you. We're brothers and we're here together in this crappy situation, but I know I can count on you for anything."

      

     "I've only been here for a week, and I barely know you, but I consider you a friend. Thanks for being so cool with me and helping me not feel so bad in this place."

      

     "My brother here is another one of God's sheep, just like me! God is always by your side, loving you and supporting you. Never lose faith!"

   

   At the end of the activity, everyone was beaming. Those who at first were shy and reluctant to speak, in the end eagerly asked for the opportunity to speak about the positive aspects of their compañeros and the importance of friendship and honesty. Many of them had never taken the time to say 'man, you're a good friend, I really value you,' and enjoyed giving compliments as much as receiving them.

           

   What can all of us take away from this experience? There is much we can learn from that room full of incarcerated boys that overcame fear, mistrust, bitterness, anger and shyness and showered each other with compliments. We spend so much time and energy in this life tearing each other down. We critique, judge, and focus on the negative. What would happen if instead we made a habit of speaking words of love and support? I love you, I value you, I admire you, I thank you... Let's try it!