by Sam Dils ’22

Too often in today’s world, we mistake information with action. We may think that we know all that there is to know about one of a variety of issues pertaining to politics, social justice, or the environment, caring deeply about those affected by this issue that afflicts our world. Obtaining this knowledge is easy. What does not come as easily is what we do with this information.

This semester, I have had the pleasure of taking Professor Larson’s Literature class on American prison writing in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Within a week or two of beginning our readings and discussions, it was clear to me and everyone in the class that there are so many inherent issues within our nation’s carceral system. Surface-level research reveals enough to make these many injustices apparent. From the unparalleled rate that we imprison our citizens to the inequity among racial stratifications within these prisons, the length of our sentences, and the high rates of recidivism, the breadth of the problem spans wide.

However, it is not the statistics about incarceration that have stuck with me but the stories and the people at the heart of these numbers. Behind each data point on a graph, there is a human being, and with them comes a story. The class was fortunate enough to interact on a close level with many of these stories. Working with the American Prison Writing Archive, Professor Larson’s brainchild and ongoing project, we have all gained exposure to first-hand accounts of incarceration. The APWA is currently the largest collection of its kind, compiling thousands of essays submitted by incarcerated people all across America. Each unique perspective I came across revealed something new, and more often than not, another form of injustice. A vivid story of abuse, a discussion of inadequate or endangering medical care, the breakdown of relationships within one’s families — these perspectives uncovered more truths for me than statistics or judicial reports ever could.

In early November, we were able to become even more proximate to an individual perspective: Kenneth Hartman, author of the book

Mother California

, which tells of his thirty-plus years in California prisons. Hartman was released in 2017 after his initial sentence of life without parole was reduced. His story was far from typical, having published a book a decade ago while behind bars. As part of his visit to Hamilton, Hartman sat in on both of our classes during that week. We were able to have a conversation. We covered everything, from his writing to many aspects of his experience of incarceration — his relationships, activism, and the flaws he has encountered firsthand in America’s judicial and carceral system. The power of these truths was all the more tangible coming from someone whose life had been impacted viscerally by the consequences of our system. Sitting right next to a friendly, eloquent, personable man tore down many of my own biases around the stereotypical American prisoner.

While Hartman is not representative of the entirety of America’s prison population, putting a face to a story was an unparalleled opportunity for me. Still, it is not merely enough to only hear these stories. Spending several hours conversing with Hartman elevated my own personal knowledge and position on our carceral system in ways that many other experiences could not. I am now struggling, however, at the conclusion of this course; I remain unfulfilled. The coursework and the stories that it has divulged have truly altered many of my views about the country that I live in, but I have not personally taken any substantive steps to enact any kind of impactful change.

As students at Hamilton College, we continually increase the breadth of our knowledge concerning issues of technology and progress, communication and disagreement, and ultimately justice and injustice. It is not our knowledge that precipitates solutions; it is the way that we act on behalf of that knowledge. Taking that first step from education to activism can be tricky, but making that transition should become our aspiration if we care passionately enough about a societal issue. If we are so moved by stories, perspectives, or even facts and figures, then we should evaluate our careers, our volunteerism, and overall civic engagement, using our privilege of education to impact the common good.

(Visit

https://apw.dhinitiative.org/

to explore the Archive)