Paula Harriott
8/07/2013
Between 2004 and 2008 I was a prisoner, serving the majority
of my sentence at HMP Drake Hall in Staffordshire, a semi open prison holding
around 400 women. I arrived there desolate and angry; missing my five children,
and facing long, sad, frustrating, agonising days and nights as I came to terms
with the eight year sentence. Prison for
women is like going back to junior school….yes miss, no miss, can I go to the
toilet miss….it doesn't do much for your self esteem or self confidence for
sure as you soak up the atmosphere of control and correction.
Last month I returned to HMP Drake Hall, not on recall, but
working as Head of Programmes for User Voice. I walked around the prison,
revisiting memories and my main focus was on a small blue hut in the centre of
the prison, called the Signpost. In many ways my journey to User Voice started
there in that little blue hut with no heating in the winter (freezing). But
what it signified to me and to all my peers was a refuge from the authority of
the prison. The Signpost was the first peer support project at Drake Hall. Two
prisoners (one of them me) escaped the drudgery of cleaning and kitchens to sit
in that hut, unsupervised by staff, and support other women to access education
courses, fill in complaints, read their mail, get information about how best to
survive in prison and generally just be a welcoming space for those that needed
a bit of humanity in the midst of the institutional coldness that is prison. In
the Signpost we made tea, talked like free people and generally gave each other
support to get through the drama and tension that is prison.
In two years the
number of women undertaking distance learning courses rose to over 60, a first
at that prison, and the number of complaints also rose dramatically. At that
time complaining was the only option by which to exercise voice; there was no
prison council. The Governor soon recognised that the Signpost was a hub of
information regarding what was going on in the prison and would often pop in
for a cup of tea and a chat about issues, seeking to understand the mood of the
prison and using myself and the other peer supporters as a barometer to test
out new ideas, proposed changes and generally find out how his staff were
doing. He was willing to listen to both good and bad. (I have visited that
Governor too, now managing a large male prison, in my capacity as Head of
Programmes at User Voice.) Without knowing it I was developing and practising
the skills needed in the co-production methodology that underpins the work of
User Voice.
So in the Signpost I learnt the value of peer support and
how it can benefit prisoners. How it can contribute to a better experience of
prison, how it can offer support to those who have only ever been exposed to
pain and brutality outside; mirrored in the prison regime, life feels no
different to the norm. The informal talking and motivation to look forward, the
modelling of compassionate non-judgmentalism to all those who came through the
door of the Signpost was a stark contrast to the cultural norm of the
institution. It was peer support that got me through my prison sentence, that
helped me to understand myself better and challenged me the deepest, because I
was not paralysed by fear when communicating; I was keenly aware of the power
the prison staff had over my life and did not ever trust the hand they offered
along the way. They offered control and surveillance, not motivation nor hope
in change.
I came to User Voice, still in pain and anguish caused by
that prison sentence, but here at User Voice I have once again found the refuge
of the Signpost; a space to be me, to own my failings, to acknowledge my strengths
and celebrate my successes. Working in an organisation, staffed by 80% ex-offenders,
I feel the warmth of peer support; these people know my journey and I know
theirs, not from a book but from personal experience. It’s a pain that binds
and in the unity we have strength, build resilience and find freedom.
