Humanity & Incarceration Project

My name is Joseph Striplin and I currently reside in Sing Sing Correctional Facility on a Life Without Parole Sentence. For me, Humanity & Incarceration Project (HIP)  started in 1996, in the Bronx House of Detention for Men, when I got my first prison job, as a “suicide watch.” My job was to walk up and down the blocks every fifteen minutes, from 11pm to 7am, checking to make sure that no one was attempting to harm themselves. That position was the first time I had to look at another person behind prison bars, from the perspective of being on the opposite side, when everyone is locked in except you.

In prison, you are taught to suppress any feelings that might lead to empathy. And even though seeing another human being behind bars affected me, I also knew that it was better not to show “weakness” or any emotion that might make me a target. In truth, it would be more than two decades before the righteous indignation and outrage I felt then about the inhumanity of the prison environment—and had quickly suppressed—would resurface. 

 

Flash forward to 2021, to another job, this time in Green Haven Correctional Facility, where I worked as a so-called block clerk. Once again, I found myself walking the tiers, distributing basic supplies such as soap, toothpaste, or toilet tissue. If the guys wanted to talk, I would listen. That’s how I got to talking with a man I know only as Mr. Caballero.

At the time, Mr. C. was close to 80 years old, and had spent 40 years of an 85-to-life sentence in prison. When I stopped by, he often complained about the headaches he was experiencing and other medical symptoms that had been going on for months. Then, one day, he was admitted to the hospital, where he was diagnosed with cancer.

I do not know where Mr. Caballero is now or what happened to him because we are no longer in the same facility. But I can’t forget him. Every time I see a senior incarcerated individual walking with a cane or moving with difficulty, I think about him. This project is my attempt to do something about those feelings I suppressed for so long, and to take action in a situation where action isn’t encouraged. This is my way of giving Mr. C. and all the other elders a voice. 

 

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