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M Y L IFE W ITH L IFERS‘‘Ihave always been drawn to darkness,” Elaine Leeder writes. “Iknow I always championed theunderdog.”As a sociology professor at IthacaCollege in the 1990s, she beganteaching at Elmira Correctional Facility in upstate New York.When shemoved to California, that same desireto help led her to the prison education program at San Quentin. Then,inspired by her lessons, a group ofLeeder’s students approached herabout working with a program theprisoners had established to aid intheir long and difficult process of redemption and transformation. Sheaccepted.These members of New Leaf onLife—the San Quentin “lifers”—havebeen sentenced to terms ranging fromfifteen years to life. Unlike DeathRow inmates, who will either die inprison or be executed, many of the lifers are eligible for parole after havingspent twenty to thirty years behindbars. But too often, they never see thatopportunity because of the popularview that they are all “hardened crim-inals,” killers incapable of rehabilitation and unfit to be free.What Leeder has learned, however,is that incarceration does not dictatecharacter. Her students, although theyare convicts, are committed to makingtheir time in jail a life sentence in thebest sense, not a death sentence. Theyhave gone the extra mile to come toterms with their crimes, and haveABOUT EBOOKS UNBOUNDEbooks Unbound is a dynamic new bookpublisher dedicated to promoting the works ofauthors who publish their books through oursister company, Your Ebook Team.Through the use of savvy marketing—including new media such as Facebook, Twitter,often managed to redeem their lives.My Life With Lifers shares the journey of a woman “on the outside” asshe discovers the true nature of life inprison, and the roadblocks—so manyof them unnecessary—on the inmates’ path to freedom. Leeder’s experiences add up to both a fascinatinghuman story and a reasoned and impassioned case for prison reform.BUY THE BOOKand blogging—we strive to get our authors theexposure and sales they deserve.For more information, contact Scott Gerber,Publisher@EbooksUnbound.com, (505) 670-9319.Or visit us online at www.EbooksUnbound.comand www.YourEbookTeam.com.Santa Fe, New MexicoEbook from Amazon.com 4.99ISBN No. 978-1-938288-00-5Ebook from BarnesAndNoble.com 4.99ISBN No. 978-1-938288-01-2Paperback from TheBookPatch.com 14.95ISBN No. 978-1-938288-02-9MyLifeWithLifers.com

I NTRODUCTIONI“I knewsomething waswrong with theway we dealtwith the ‘other.’To me, therewas no ‘other.’”What’s a Nice Girl Like YouDoing in a Place Like This?have always been drawn to darkness and the dark side of people’slives. It may be because my father’s family was killed in Lithuaniaduring the Holocaust; it might also bebecause my mother’s people were immigrants from Poland, with many ofthe troubles that immigrant familiesexperienced, including poverty andmental illness.My childhood home always hadthe shades drawn so the neighborswould not see what was going on inside. In my father’s village in Lithuania,it was the neighbors who turned in theJews and watched them beingmarched off to the pits where my family was shot and buried. My fatherspent his whole life remembering hisdead mother, sister, and brother, andfeeling survivor’s guilt for having madeit out alive before the war began.Money had been sent for onefamily member to travel to the U.S.His sister was to go, but she decidedto stay home to care for their elderlyfather. My own father was sent instead, with plans to pay the way for therest of the family when he raised themoney. But Hitler marched throughEastern Europe first, slaughtering millions. My family was among them. Myfather’s faith in God was his only solace through tormented days andnights. He often sat late into the nightreading Jewish religious tracts seekingthe peace he could not find otherwise.Whatever the cause of my beingdrawn to darkness, I know I alwayschampioned the underdog. In the firstgrade, a young African-Americanfriend called for me on the second dayof school, but my mother told me Icould not walk with her or be herfriend. I knew something was wrongwith the way we dealt with the“other.” To me, there was no “other”—she was my friend, and I wouldspend time with her, no matter whatI was told.This rebellion stayed with methrough childhood, college, and laterlife. By the time I was in college, I hadmarched with Martin Luther Kingbefore his famous “I Have a Dream”speech. In Boston, where I went toschool, there was a rich tradition of rebellion, and it was easy for me to findit. I smoked pot before it was “in,” be-Excerpted from My Life With Lifers. Copyright 2012 Ebooks Unbound–1–“By the timeI was incollege, I hadmarched withMartin LutherKing before hisfamous ‘I Havea Dream’speech.”

“In thesegroups, Idiscovered thatas a woman ina patriarchalsociety, I, too,was anunderdog.”ginning as early as 1965. I joined civilrights and antiwar activities, and I wasin a feminist consciousness-raisinggroup as soon as such movementsemerged. In these groups, I discoveredthat as a woman in a patriarchal society, I, too, was an underdog.When I saw that I was discriminated against as a woman, I began toidentify my dissatisfaction with theway things were in our society; I wastormented by social inequality, genderdiscrimination, class bias, racism, andmilitarism.Having been raised an orthodoxJew, I knew about “doing good” inthe world; it was part of a Jewishworld view.These deeply instilled values taught me to love all human beings, to give charity, to wrong no one,to help a neighbor, to never take revenge, to embrace the stranger amongus, to work for justice in the world,and to repair the “tear” in the universeby being a good human being. Thesevalues are called mitzvoth, part of the613 commandments that Jews are supposed to follow. I might not have followed the religious rituals all my life,but they have governed my behavioras much as possible.As a social worker in New YorkCity, a therapist at mental hospitals andmental health clinics, and while working with alcoholics and drug addicts, Iwas fascinated by people who did notfit the norm. I always wondered howthey could do it, since I tended to besomeone who could not do muchthat was illegal. After many years ofeducation and training, I became acollege professor. I began to study deviance and its complexity, wanting tounderstand what drove people to doharm to others. At first, I began working with victims of domestic violence,but I was soon drawn to the perpetrators, to the challenge of their complicated minds. As a feminist, I felt it wasmy social obligation to work withpeople who caused pain to women.While working in a summer programfor students about to enter college,some of them asked to visit a prison.I, too, was interested in such places,knowing that people there could helpme understand perpetrators of domestic violence.In 1995, in what was to be a pivotal moment in my career, I took thehigh school students to the ElmiraCorrectional Facility in upstate NewYork for a tour by the warden. I wasstruck by the cold, harsh facility andthe fact that it was 150 years old.When the tour was over, I asked thewarden if the inmates had any educational opportunities. He said they hadonly GED classes and some self-helpprograms like Alcoholics Anonymous(A.A.). In an impetuous moment ofgenerosity, I offered to bring somecollege education programs inside.The warden was thrilled, and thusbegan my career with prisoners.Several years later when I movedto California to become the dean ofsocial sciences at Sonoma State University, I discovered a prison educationprogram at San Quentin State Prison.Drawn once again to the dark side, Ibegan volunteering there and wasonce again taken with the work because it was so gripping to find humanconnection in such a dark and miserable place.When the class ended, a few prisoners who were my students asked if IExcerpted from My Life With Lifers. Copyright 2012 Ebooks Unbound–2–“I discovereda prisoneducationprogram at SanQuentin StatePrison . . .I beganvolunteeringthere and wasonce againtaken with thework because itwas so grippingto find humanconnection insuch a darkand miserableplace.”

“In California,it costs 46,000 a yearto incarceratea prisoner.Certainly, thismoney couldbe better spentelsewhere thanfor these menwho no longerneed to bethere.”would lead a group of lifers. I was flattered that they thought enough of meto have our own group. New Leaf onLife, a name chosen by the prisonersthemselves, has continued since its inception in 2005. These men were sentenced to life in prison—with thepossibility of parole—not to death inprison. And yet there they stay becauseof the attitudes and prejudices againstthem. Having paid their dues to society,most pose no risk to that society anymore, and many guards, educators, andadministrators in prisons agree thatthey should be out. In California, itcosts 46,000 a year to incarcerate aprisoner. Certainly, this money couldbe better spent elsewhere than for thesemen who no longer need to be there.I am not writing here about thosewho are unable or unwilling to change,nor those who will continue to pose arisk to society. But they are the minority among those who are in for “life.”Yet social policy often focuses on theyoung “gang bangers” who are doingshort sentences, or on death row inmates who will never get out.The experience in prison has setme on a new path of work. I havelearned much from my students, perhaps even more than they gained fromme. In this book, I share these lessonsI have learned as I watch men insidebegin the long and difficult process ofredemption and transformation.In my fifteen years’ work in majorprisons, I have spent much time in thedarkness of life there, and I have seenmany inmates come into the light asthe process of change occurs. Manypeople have asked me details of mywork with prisoners; thus, I have decided to document my experiencesand highlight some of the men withwhom I have had the privilege ofworking. Most of these men havecommitted terrible crimes, crimes forwhich they have been sentenced tolong terms. Many have served at leastthe minimum necessary for parole, butstill they remain in prison because ofthe nature of parole and “get tough oncrime” views that make it impossiblefor men who are ready to be releasedto begin life outside.Public policy and social change efforts need to distinguish amonggroups of prisoners and see that theycannot be generalized; each categoryhas its own risks, challenges, and policy issues.How many of us outside drive byprisons rarely thinking of the warehousing of humanity taking place behind those walls? Before I went into aprison, I thought everyone there deserved to be there—they belonged inside; the experience of prison wasgood for them, punishing them forwhat they had done. Once inside, Ihave learned about the real people,with real stories and reasons for doingwhat they did.In this book, I will tell you someof these stories, since every one is different. Though they have committedterrible crimes, these are not evil people. For the most part, they are awareof and disturbed by what they did. Ihave learned that each one has a family traumatized by his crimes, as thevictims and their families have been.Most are remorseful for what they did,and often want to make amends to thevictims, their families, and the community they have harmed.These are thoughts often not con-Excerpted from My Life With Lifers. Copyright 2012 Ebooks Unbound–3–“In this book,I will tell yousome of thesestories, sinceevery one isdifferent.Though theyhave committedterrible crimes,these are notevil people. ”