The world left me behind: decades in prison and I didn’t know how to use a computer!

How long does it take a human to be absent from modern civilisation before they are considered primitive? I’ve been incarcerated for almost two decades. As the years passed by, my humanity has been slowly, deliberately stripped away – resulting in a fear of human interaction, which is often misinterpreted as the mistrust towards society as a whole. It’s easy to lose hindsight and the periphery of what freedom is and feels like.

During my prolonged imprisonment, I’ve noticed myself and others showing symptoms like difficulty concentrating, stuttering, unexplained sadness, suicidal ideation, a sense of defeat, feelings of loss of time, anxiety, erratic thoughts, restlessness, confusion, and hopelessness. It’s like moving in slow motion while everyone else is moving at a fast speed. I used to be able to finish Sudokus in less than two minutes. Now, even simple puzzles take me longer to process.

These deficiencies leave technology – and therefore the universe – to become foreign territory. In 2008 (when I was incarcerated at age 19), social media, AI, TikTok, Instagram, Snapchat, digital mail and online schooling didn’t exist in the same way as they do now – and certainly not inside of prisons. Imagine stepping into a time machine and in one second, you flash forward from the year 2008 to 2023. That’s how I felt when technology came to my Texas prison. 

Ulterior motives

After Covid-19, Texas decided to upgrade its communication integration within the Texas Department of Criminal Justice, TDCJ, by introducing Securus to its residents and the family and friends of the incarcerated. These Securus tablets offered emails, video visits, phone calls, media content (which includes movies, games and TV shows), and the introduction to the advancement of technology.

Of course this partnership between TDCJ and Securus wasn’t without motive. A monetary monopoly was established with capitalism at full throttle. 

“E-messaging” through Securus is an imitation of email under false pretence, where Securus charges us to send text messages, which can only be received by those who have a Securus account set up. You cannot send document attachments, or access the internet. Every message requires a “stamp,” which costs money. In Texas, a package of 50 e-stamps costs $21 USD – meaning it costs 42 cents to send a single message. 

Movies range anywhere from 5.99 to 12.99 dollars, and you can only keep the movie for 48 hours once downloaded. TV shows are 2.70 and only last 48 hours once downloaded. Music packages range from 7.99 to 21.99. Podcasts and audio news segments are free, but limited. 

These costs are particularly exorbitant when you consider that Texas is one of seven states, all in the South, that force people in prison to work, but pay them nothing for almost all jobs. 

Pros and cons

During this transition to digital communication, the Texas Department of Criminal Justice also banned us from receiving physical snail mail. Mail scanning, which prison officials claim is to curb drugs coming into prisons, is a harsh and exploitative new trend. Letters and photos from loved ones are now sent to a digital processing centre in Dallas, where they’re scanned, uploaded, then sent to the tablet to be downloaded by its reader. It is a heartless procedure. 

So, farewell to pen and paper. We received Securus tablets in 2023 and had no choice but to teach ourselves to access the tablet for reliable communication with loved ones. Holding the device for the first time, I felt like a toddler being given a Boeing to pilot.

It took me a few days just to figure out what to press when I tap the screen, to be able to operate the tablet accurately. I had no solution to fix this problem that I don’t understand or comprehend because the world has left me behind. Securus and the prison administrators do not provide us meaningful tech support.

I had to teach myself to download. I had to teach myself to search, sync and stream. I had to use this foreign object, otherwise I couldn’t keep in contact with my mum. 

Figuring things out

Most of us who had been incarcerated for longer than 10 years struggled. But over the course of a few weeks, I was getting to grips with it. When I kept receiving e-messages asking ‘Are you okay’ or ‘Why haven’t I heard from you’, I diligently just started tapping the screen in hopes of figuring out how to respond. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but eventually the mistakes I made became valuable lessons.

When I would see titles of videos, books, movies or shows that intrigued me, I would randomly press buttons to find out how to access them. Eventually, I got the hang of things. 

The tablet has its pros and cons. Fortunately, I am now able to talk on the phone and email my mum daily. She has found the app to be convenient, quick and easy, since our communication is simple. The expenses are the dilemma: they total out over $300 a month, with those expenses being doubled if I purchase media content. And that access is limited whenever the WiFi is out. 

On the plus side

The most beneficial app to me personally is EDOVO (edovo.org), an educational program that allows those who participate in its courses to attain certificates, upon completion of course, in a variety of trades, job learning skills, college, religion and more. I’ve been certified in Construction Foundation Management, ServSafe Food and Alcohol Safety, Carpentry, Electrician, Tourism and Hospitality, Legal Studies and Fitness Trainer. Although these certificates are not accredited, I still benefit because I’m learning and seeing all the things I missed out on since being incarcerated in 2008. 

Access to these courses made me feel like I can now keep up with the world. It had been a long time since I’ve felt a sense of contentment and curiosity that left me in an ecstatic state yearning to learn more.

I enjoyed a CDL truck driving course, which I received a certificate for, the most. I was a truck driver in the military prior to incarceration, so it felt like tapping into past knowledge that’s rarely acknowledged behind prison walls. Several culinary courses were of interest, due to the fact that I’ve worked as a cook and food prep while incarcerated. I learned how to make pasta from scratch, five egg cooking methods, and how to identify cooking equipment and tools and how and when to use them. I even became certified as a barista, where I learned how to identify different coffees and teas and how to make them. 

Increasing tech access

My age of 35 makes me a millennial – but I’m still just barely learning how to use technology in today’s society. Even with a tablet, I’m still trying to catch up. 

If prisons offered access to computers, internet, and email – as opposed to a tablet with for-profit messaging – that would make a world of difference. It would help prepare us for leaving prison into a tech-saturated world. It would help us learn much-needed skills for the job market. And it would better connect us to our family and friends, which studies show is hugely beneficial to the incarcerated population. 

For that, Texas legislation needs to pass much-needed laws for prison reform and educational modification to finally adhere to its motto of “rehabilitation”. Life could have been different for me had TDCJ been more concerned with rehabilitation and not just the objective of incarcerating. Rehabilitation is impossible without providing resources to the incarcerated population – and one of those crucial resources is technology. 

Simple tasks such as listening to podcasts with news segments (CBS, NPR, BBC), science, history, fun facts and sports has been like a balm and bandage on a festering wound. Watching educational videos about wilderness living, cars, cooking, latest inventions, meteorology, global warming and movies with Tom Cruise has its perks also. 

These miniscule tech interactions have proven beneficial to the health mentally, emotionally, spiritually and psychologically. It is an enlightening reminder to those incarcerated that life exists outside of prison.