In this first episode of From Where She Stands we explore the importance of touch for incarcerated women at Shakopee Correctional Facility in Minnesota. Until recently, the prison has prevented any sort of touching between inmates: no handshakes, no fist bumps, definitely no hugs. We also look at activity where there is touch inside Shakopee, through hair braiding. This episode is an exploration of the ways incarcerated women try to regain a sense of themselves. Join Piper Kerman in conversation with Uzo Aduba who plays Suzanne "Crazy Eyes" Warren. Learn more about the Poussey Washington Fund and get involved at www.Crowdrise.com/PWF
In this first episode of From Where She Stands we explore the importance of touch for incarcerated women at Shakopee Correctional Facility in Minnesota. Until recently, the prison has prevented any sort of touching between inmates: no handshakes, no fist bumps, definitely no hugs. We also look at activity where there is touch inside Shakopee, through hair braiding. This episode is an exploration of the ways incarcerated women try to regain a sense of themselves. Join Piper Kerman in conversation with Uzo Aduba who plays Suzanne "Crazy Eyes" Warren.
Learn more about the Poussey Washington Fund and get involved at www.Crowdrise.com/PWF
[Music]
Piper: This is From Where She Stands, a podcast connecting the storylines of Orange is the New Black with stories from real women whose lives have been impacted by prison. I'm your host, Piper Kerman.
It doesn't feel like that long ago that I wrote the memoir Orange is the New Black: My Year in a Women's Prison to document my 13 months behind bars. The stories in the book about real life situations in prison were brought to life by some of the actresses on the Netflix original series Orange is the New Black.
[Music]
Piper: Over this season of From Where She Stands, we're going to be talking with some of the actresses about the connection between their storylines and reality. I'll talk to Diane Guerrero about her family being detained.
Diane: These are the people who are being detained, the father dropping their child off to school, the woman going to her job in the morning.
Piper: I'll talk to Laverne Cox, and we'll ask incarcerated transwomen what it means to be a transwoman living in a men's prison.
Laverne: So, whether I'm in a men's prison or women's prison, what difference will it make?
Piper: I'll talk with Dashca Polanco, and we'll hear from women who gave birth while incarcerated.
Dascha: I am a child of an incarcerated parent, and playing a mother incarcerated and having to give up their child, not only was it complex, but there were so many emotional barriers for me.
Piper: And, Danielle Brooks will be joining us when we hear the story of one woman's return to the free world after years of being in and out of prison.
Unknown: I found a whole different world. It was like a world of plenty. It was like a world of respect.
Piper: Today, I'll be talking to Uzo Aduba, but first, we'll start with this story. Episode One, "(In) Touch".
[Music]
Piper: Chicopee Correctional Facility sits within a suburban neighborhood with manicured lawns and single-family homes just near an elementary school. From the outside, it actually looks more like a high school, and inside, it feels surprisingly similar, murals on the walls, classrooms spread throughout. There are about 650 women here and a handful who identify as men. Most of those incarcerated are here for drug charges. Around 100 of them are here for homicide. It's a mixture of everyone, in very close quarters, and living right on top of one another is something you have to learn how to do. And, that means relearning whether to touch, how to touch, and when not to touch.
[Music]
Piper: Inside the Chicopee Prison, just past the room where women go to work making helium balloons for a party company, in that same hallway, there is the hair salon. Here, the women are getting their hair colored and trimmed. A group of women sit at a table with mannequin heads that they braid, comb, and tease. On one side of the room, a woman lies down on a bed to get a facial. She's wearing her grey prison uniform, like all of the women here. Her eyes are closed. A towel wraps her hair up in a turban, and another woman sits behind her rubbing her cheeks in slow, gentle circles. The seated woman is focused, touching her pretend client's face like she's caring for something that she doesn't want to break. Her client is either asleep or just extremely relaxed. The only thing that moves on her is her chest, slow, deep breaths. Inside this salon is one of the few places where touch is allowed. Chicopee Prison is a no-touch facility, meaning all the women must keep their hands to themselves, no handshakes, no hugging, no touch.
Inmate 1: As far as each other, we can't touch each other.
Inmate 2: Even a handshake, a genuine handshake once in a while is nice.
Inmate 3: To feel another person's body heat, especially when you're not having a good day, you have to walk around with that emotion. You can talk about it, but there's nothing like a friendly hug.
[Music]
Piper: Almost all prisons have no-touch rules. Part of this has to do with the total ban on sexual contact, and prisons will say it's for the security of the prisoners. The notouch rule is so they don't hurt each other, and, for the women in Chicopee, it's something many of them say they think about a lot.
Inmate 3: The touch I miss the most is a hug.
Inmate 2: I miss my son, just being able to cuddle with him the most. Hugs, I'm a big hugger.
Inmate 1: Personally, I miss the more intimate touch, but, you know, just because, like I said, I'm married and, you know, have a family. So, I miss that contact more than anything else.
Inmate 3: Hugging, I feel like I just got permission to just put my weight right there, just put my emotions, my feelings and everything on somebody's shoulder.
Inmate 4: Sure. We're not going to lie. I mean, I miss a touch from a man, you know, and cats. That's what gets me in trouble.
Inmate 5: You know, when my dad died, I did need a hug, and I did get a hug. It was just, it's, kind of, at the officer's discretion.
[Music]
Inmate 6: Being able to hug your peer or being able to just touch them on the hand.
Inmate 7: I just come back from having a baby at the hospital. You need a hug. You need something. You need some kind of—It has nothing to do with sexual affection, nothing like that.
[Music]
Piper: Something we don't think about often is how many times in a day you actually touch someone in the free world, a handshake, a pat on the back, a hug, a kiss on the cheek, a child climbing into your lap. Our bodies are built for touch. It's chemical. We release oxytocin, a hormone that does a lot of things, decreasing blood pressure and it decreases stress and fear, but it also increases our attachment to one another. Biologically, we are made to receive touch, yet it's one of the most basic things that prisoners are stripped of.
Inmate 8: But, at the end of the day, like, the real touch that I'm thriving for is my kids, my mom, you know. Like, I don't get it. I don't understand. We should be able to do high fives. We should be able to hug, you know, as long as it's appropriate, as they say, in regards to what the rules are. Some rules are made to be broke, you know. I mean, that's probably not right to say, but it's the truth, you know. And, the more petty the rules are, the more they get broken.
Piper: Touch is normal, natural, needed, but it's not always wanted.
[Music]
Piper: At least 80 percent of women are victims of physical violence prior to incarceration. It could be during childhood or adulthood. The warden of Chicopee, Tracy Belts [phonetic] [00:08:45], says that that's one of her biggest concerns.
Tracy: There are women here that do not want to be touched, and they struggle and are challenged by saying, "I don't what you touching me. I don't want you hugging me. I don't want you putting your hand on my back." I told women here, "People are supposed to not just assume that you are okay being high fived or that you're okay being patted on the back. They need to ask you before they do that."
Piper: But, some rules are absolutely impossible to enforce, rules that are written, but contradict everything that your instinct or heart is telling you.
Inmate 9: When my baby passed and the lieutenant—And, I thought that was so sweet of her. She came to me, and she said, "Ms. Karen—" First, she said, "Well, do you want to go SAG." I said, "Why would I want to go to SAG?" She said, "Make sure you don't hurt yourself." I said, "I'm not crazy. I'm just mourning." And, she said, "Well, would you like me to call any inmate of your choice so they can come and give you a hug?" I was like, "Wow." I thought that was really sweet, and so, she called somebody for me. And, oh, I hugged the heck out of her because you can't touch here. You know, so, I thought that was really, really sweet of her.
Piper: It feels like there are a million rules in prison. No touching is just one of them, but there are the warden's rules and then there are the prisoners' rules. I've got a handbook of all of the prison rules, but the prisoner rules, I had to learn by watching and by listening. Like, don't ask people why they're there, and you would definitely think twice about cutting in line. There's a protocol to that. It's all about personal space and hierarchy. You don't step foot into someone's cell without being invited. This place is all about consent and being punished when you break these rules. There can be lines for the showers, but shot callers can take their showers when they want. And, don't you dare touch anyone's stuff. With all of these rules, you start craving things to make you feel more you.
Yetta: Listen, I already got to wear the same color as you. Can I at least have a hair style? That's all I'm asking for.
Ebony: Yeah. That's what, that's one thing we do have.
Yetta: That's all I want.
Piper: In the Chicopee gym, Yetta Player [phonetic] [00:11:10] is getting her hair braided.
Yetta: You look good. You feel good. You are good. And, it's the only thing we really got control in here over is our hair.
Piper: Today, Yetta's stylist is Ebony.
Ebony: Hello. My name is Ebony Lane, and I was born the day when Harriet Tubman freed the slaves.
Yetta: Girl, if you don't be quiet.
Piper: When you walk into the gym in Chicopee Correctional Facility, there's an open court with classrooms and workout equipment on the sides. About six women are getting their hair braided. It's not the salon. It's a makeshift one that the prison has allowed space for, where some of the rules about touch don't apply.
Ebony: We only have two hours.
Yetta: Listen, put some fancy stuff in here and make it zigzag.
Piper: Braiding day happens a few days a week.
Ebony: I'm going to French braid it going to the side, like in cornrows, all in one big braid, and then, it'll have, like, designs in it. And, that's about it really.
Yetta: Don't sound depressed when you do my hair. You've got to put some love into my roots.
Piper: There's a lot of laughing today, and there's some singing.
Ebony: Ooh, you really want it too. By the way, I throw that thing back, that putty cat keep on calling. Don't you hear it talking? So, come on over here because that is my personality.
Piper: The constant joking.
Yetta: Man, because she keep pulling on my hair like I ain't got black people hair.
Ebony: Y'all ain't even mad. Y'all ain't even tripping that I ain't trying to be in your head like I'm hurting you—
Yetta: Listen—
Ebony: …today. Don't act like I'm mad or nothing.
Yetta: You is. You're taking your frustrations out on me because somebody talking about your man.
Ebony: Girl.
Yetta: I ain't do it.
Ebony: I'm just saying what would you do?
Yetta: Listen, I didn't do it.
Piper: The relationship talk.
Yetta: Well, first of all, I don't understand why you're going to write him and he not writing you back. That means he's not trying to talk to you.
Ebony: Well, he said—I don't know how many days had it been since the man wrote…
Piper: For a lot of women, just being admitted into the prison doesn't just mean the strip search and the certain loss of their freedom, it also means physically being stripped of identity, and it can start with your hair. Weaves or braids, in most prisons, they have to come out.
Ebony: That's, like, degrading us.
Yetta: It is.
Ebony: You know, because we have, like, nappy hair. They don't let us, like, fix it or whatever.
Yetta: Or nothing.
Ebony: And, you know?
Inmate 10: What can we smuggle in these little tiny braids?
Ebony: Yes.
Yetta: I know. Like, and then, you're going to make me take all of these down, and you're going to sit here and watch me take all of these down?
Inmate 10: That's why I was saying I was going to go—
Inmate 11: It's sad. Like, I'm fixing to come back. I just got my hair done last week.
Ebony: Yeah. Before you leave and when you come back, like, if you went to court—
Inmate 10: I told them I wasn't taking my hair down before I went to court.
Ebony: Yeah.
Yetta: Me neither.
Ebony: They make you take your hair down and run your fingers through your hair and then take our picture, and I feel like that is really degrading to us.
Yetta: It is.
Piper: And so, here in the gym, where the braids happen, it almost becomes this, kind of, sacred space for women to reclaim some sense of who they are.
Yetta: I don't know. For me, I feel like you could take my freedom, but you can't take my personality. This is who I am. You already took one big piece of me. I refuse for you to take anything else.
[Music]
Yetta: Growing up, I really didn't think that I was a beautiful person, inside or out.
Piper: Yetta is 26. She called doing time in Chicopee a piece of cake, if that's what you make it.
Yetta: I've got to keep myself clowning. I'd rather be happy than be upset, and so, I have to learn how to be confident with myself instead of having other people tell me I'm beautiful. I had to figure out how to believe it myself. I've been here for a year, and I have a year left. I don't want to come back here. I know that.
Piper: You stick to your plan, keep focused on the day that you get out, and remind yourself of the things that you love.
Yetta: This place has made me love myself more. Like, I found things that I didn't even know about myself.
[Music]
Piper: There is this metal fence around the Chicopee Prison. It was only put up in 2016, and it was a huge debate. The neighbors thought that it would look like they were living next to a prison. They worried that their property values would go down. The fence is black. It doesn't have any barbed wire at the top. There are no officers patrolling the gates, but it's a barrier, a reminder that this place is, in fact, a prison. Inside this fence, a few rules have since changed. Since this piece was reported, the warden, Tracy Belts, has adjusted the no-touch policy.
Tracy: So, they can high five one another. They can shake hands. They can fist bump. What we've done is we've said, if somebody is grieving, they can pat each other on the shoulder or shoulder blade and, kind of, support one another that way.
Piper: Hugs are still off limits.
[Music]
Piper: You might remember this flashback scene from Orange is the New Black.
[Clip plays]
Piper: It was Uzo Aduba's' character, Suzanne, also known as Crazy Eyes, who was adopted by white parents. In the scene, we see her as a child going to visit her newborn sister in the hospital. A black nurse notices little Suzanne's hair, and she thought it could use some help, a touch from someone who looked like her, who understood. And so, the nurse offers to style it. She carefully twists Suzanne's hair into Bantu knots, a simple act of tenderness that became her signature look. It was also the touch that she was longing for, a sense of confidence that she found within her character and in everything around her. I sat down with Uzo to talk about the things that make her and her character feel uniquely themselves.
First of all, can I just start out by asking you to tell me a little bit about your name? You know, we both grew up in Massachusetts.
Uzo: Hm-hmm [affirmative]. Go Sox.
Piper: Go Sox. And, I know that, for myself growing up as a Piper, there were no other Pipers, and I got teased a lot for being a Piper. Piper rhymes with all kinds of things you don't want it to rhyme with. What was it like to have your name growing up in Massachusetts?
Uzo: Having my name growing up in Massachusetts was tough, you know. My full name is Uzoamaka Aduba, and so, Uzoamaka means "the road is good". And, I grew up in a predominantly—or, you know, just even call it a spade a spade—an all-white community. My family is from Nigeria. We immigrated to the United States, and so, it wasn't just living in a racially desperate area, but also a culturally, nationally immigrant desperate area. So, a name like Uzoamaka is not one to be found anywhere in my community for miles. And so, it was tough, you know. I remember coming back from school one day because people couldn't say Uzoamaka, but I always knew it was me in the school roll call. And, the teachers would be looking up, and, you know, "Ow-za-maka, Uzo-kaka, Uze-a-make-a." And, they're looking at me, and sometimes, it would be funny. You'd just be sitting there waiting for them because that's not my name. I don't have to answer. But, most times, it was tough because I think most kids generally just want to fit in and feel like everybody else or feel a connectedness in some area with everyone else around them.
Piper: Yeah. I used to wish my name was Alice.
Uzo: Well, I wanted my mom—I came home, and I said to my mom, I said, "Can you call me Zoe?" And, I came up with that because it sounds kind of like Uzo, because Uzo is a common nickname for Uzoamaka. So, I was like, "Uzo seems like even that was so hard for people to say." Even now, today, my name is Anglicized to Uzo. It's Uzo. So, I came home one day, and I said, "Mommy, can you call me Zoe?" Because, that seems like I could get away with that. And, I just remember that she was cooking in the kitchen, and she stopped immediately. And, she looked at me, and my mom, kind of, has this, like, sly eye when she's really serious about something. And, she stopped, and her eyes lifted. And, she was like, "Why?" And, I was like, "Because no one can say Uzoamaka." And, without skipping a beat, she just said, "If they can learn to say Tsiolkovsky and Dostoevsky and Michelangelo, then they can learn to say Uzoamaka." And, it was, like, back right to cooking, and I was like, "Okay. You know, what's a Dostoevsky?", you know, kind of a thing. But, it was the truth, and it was the only exchange that I've ever had with her about my name. I won't say that right away was, "Oh, okay, yes. That's my name."
But, over time certainly, I realized it is my identity, to just embrace who I am, and who I am is the child of immigrants from Nigeria and that name was handed to me with purpose and intention because of that journey. And, I wouldn't want my name to be anything else but that.
Piper: Well, it's interesting that you say that because, you know, we've been talking about Suzanne, but of course, the character is also widely known as Crazy Eyes. And, that comes directly from the book.
Uzo: Yes.
Piper: And, of course, you know, the Crazy Eyes in the book is very, very different in millions of ways from the character that you played. I remember when we were working on the very first season and I was reading scripts, and I was reading the character of Suzanne, of Crazy Eyes, and I felt worried. I felt like I don't know how this is going to come off. This is, this woman is, you know, struggling with mental health issues and everything else. I'm really anxious about this because I was. I was initially worried, and so, you know, I love that you call her Suzanne.
Uzo: I do. I can now call her Crazy Eyes because I was, when we started, you know, one, I wouldn't think that a person would call themselves the name that they're teased. You know, I was like—And, somebody, themselves, had, you know, a name adjustment period growing up, knew there was something really important about getting her name right. And so, yeah. I didn't want to call her Crazy Eyes, and I was so very, very protective of her.
Piper: Do you think that you carried some of those lessons or, you know, your growth into that name, into the way that you interpreted the character of Suzanne?
Uzo: Without question. I think, you know, I was able to relate to her growth in her own comfortability because that's my own story, to some degree. Suzanne starts her story outwardly seeking, you know, outwardly seeking validation, outwardly seeking love, outwardly seeking someone else's approval, and I know those feelings. I know what it feels like to see that, find that, search for that, and it come to you and leave or it come to you and be heartbreaking. And, I know what it feels like, looks like, to be on the other side of that, to realize, "You know what? The person I need to love is me first. The relationship I need to nurture is the love affair I have with myself." You know?
And, that's been Suzanne's journey from the beginning of the show, you know. She was seeking the love of Piper, didn't get it. She'd find herself in the dastardly trap of looking for love from Vee, you know, and that being exploited, what that feels like. She realizes what it feels like to get the opportunity to choose love when Kukudio comes along, and she realizes in that moment—It's a pivotal moment, I thought, season three, with that story arc—of, "Oh, I have choice in this. I don't have to take what somebody is willing to give me. I don't have to take someone's drip drop. I don't have to take this small, small amount that's being handed to me. I can choose what kind of relationship I want." And, I think that set her on a pathway to really explore inside who she is and what she wants from this life.
Piper: I think that's true. I wonder what you take from this, you know, the experience of playing Suzanne, about, sort of, the way she's treated within the system and also these questions about the wider world, like where a person like Suzanne fits and why we use prisons and jails as places of banishment.
Uzo: If we are interested truly in rehabilitation, I don't believe that a woman of Suzanne's mental capacity belongs in a prison as the best form of treatment for her. I do not—
Piper: Absolutely.
Uzo: …believe that. I think that is a woman and a character who has been mishandled. I think it's consistent with the way she had been handled, frankly, outside of prison. One of the last, still unexplored social issues that exist is the conversation of mental health. I don't know if it's our own fear or panic that, when we have that conversation, some of us might realize that we identify with it. I don't know what it is, but, by ostracizing people in that way, I think it leads people to feel alone and abandoned in critical moments.
Piper: So, playing the role of Suzanne, I wonder reflections you have about this question of self-esteem and confidence when it comes to incarcerated women or any of—You know, we're talking always about people who have been pushed to the margins in one or another, and I think you spoke so eloquently to that.
Uzo: Self-esteem and confidence, as it relates to formerly incarcerated women or even incarcerated women, is not something you hand over just because you've been a part of the system. It's not something that you're required to forfeit, give up, let go of. It's not a right you lose. Okay? I would say to women or men who have been a part of the system, you know, because we love to put scarlet letters on people and brand people and say this is what you are and you need to wear that forever, I don't believe in that. I think every single person deserves redemption. I don't know if I think you're responsible for carrying the weight of having grown into an area that's purposefully targeted by drugs and alcohol. I don't know if I necessarily believe that you then, becoming the very product that society has intended for you, are responsible for the rest of your life, and you can still live this life with a head held high, high, not held up, high.
[Music]
Piper: So, we've been thinking a lot about things we can do outside of prison walls. One thing we've done is launched the Poussey Washington fund. The money raised from this fund will go to help eight organizations fighting to end the epidemic of mass incarceration of women in America. When you donate, you'll contribute to the fight for criminal justice reform, immigration rights, and helping women integrate back into the wider community after their sentences. To join us, you can visit Crowdrise.com/PWF.
[Music]
Piper: There were so many ways that Orange is the New Black reflected reality. In the last season, the character Maritza Ramos uses a hotline to find a lawyer while being detained in a privatized immigration detention center. This hotline, a real hotline, gained a lot of popularity due to exposure from the show, and ICE shut it down. We wanted to dive deeper into the issues of family separation.
Diane: You know, you couldn't really concentrate on you when you're afraid you're going to come home and them not be there, and so, that's exactly what happened of course.
Piper: Next week, we speak to Diane Guerrero. Join us.
[Music]
Piper: From Where She Stands is a production of Netflix and Pineapple Street Studios. From Netflix, our executive producers are Nia Lee, Torie Gleicher, and Brooke Reese. From Orange is the New Black, executive producers are Jenji Kohan, Tara Herrmann, and myself, Piper Kerman. This series was created by Pineapple Street Studios. Executive producers are Jenna Weiss-Berman, Max Linsky, and Leila Day. The senior producer is Leila Day, with producers Josh Gwyn and Justine Down. Production assistants from the incredible Jessica Jupiter and Sophie Bridges. Our sound engineer is James Rowlands. Music throughout the episode is by Salami Rose. Thank you to the women at Chicopee Correctional Facility who shared their experiences.
Amanda: My name is Amanda Roddey [phonetic] [00:30:59].
Janiya: Janiya Wynan [phonetic] [00:31:00].
Nyla: Nyla Morrell French [phonetic] [00:31:01].
Sarah: Sarah Shocker [phonetic] [00:31:03].
Ebony: Ebony Lane [phonetic] [00:31:05].
Yetta: My name is Yetta Player [phonetic] [00:31:06].
Piper: At Chicopee Correctional Facility, special thanks to Warden Tracy Belts, Michael Abjuway [phonetic] [00:31:15], and Jeff Speiss [phonetic] [00:31:16]. I'm Piper Kerman. Thanks for listening.
[Music]