The Day I Realized I was “Tution”

[Names, times and certain details of the story you’re about to read have been altered, not to protect anyone, but because this situation happened about a decade ago and I simply don’t remember! 😁]

It was the spring of 2013 and I was living on Dorm-1, a crowded 80 man dorm at Dixon Correctional Institute (DCI). I had been there for about a year and been incarcerated for about 5 years at that point. So I was familiar with the prison and had basically “conformed” to prison life. Although there is no such thing as real comfort in a prison setting to me, I did get comfortable with certain things in my environment. Cinnamon Rolls every other Sunday, daily yard time, guards who may not be so strict and also the other inmates who became family, friends, comrades, or peers over time.

On the other hand, as one can imagine, discomfort comes much more often to a person in prison. Within that same 5 years I’d experienced plenty of negative emotions and situations. I saw knife fights, stabbings, simple fights and all kinds of assaults (both physical and verbal). In prison an argument will be heard daily. So just like any other war zone, something is always going on. The element of danger is always present, yet people still manage to make the most out of it – even having good times.

This spring day back then was no different than any other day of prison life. At about an hour before the lights were turned off at 10:00 pm, an argument ensued towards the back of the dorm. For whatever reason Kevin, from his bed on one side the dorm, started belittling Slim who was in his bed. Neither one of them left their beds during this argument, which was only about 10-15 feet from each other, so it was obvious that nothing physical was about to happen. However, Kevin easily won this verbal battle with all of the venom he spewed onto Slim by calling him every disrespectful name he could think of. It seemed like Kevin’s mission that night was to make sure everyone knew that Slim was insignificant and unworthy of respect. Slim said a few things back, but his words were certainly overshadowed by Kevin’s. Finally, Kevin let off of Slim as the lights were about to be turned off; it would’ve been disrespectful to the whole dorm if he continued during lights out.

As the lights were being cut off, I covered up with my sheet and struggled to find a comfortable position on the 4” mat that we all are issued. A few minutes later I was out!

Three hours later (about 1:30 am) I was awakened by one of the worst sounds I’ve ever heard: a man crying and yelling at the top of his voice for help. Along with those yells was a muffled sound of something continuously hitting flesh. It only took a few seconds for the dorm to be up and trying to figure out what was going on. The guards were a few seconds behind us; trying to locate the sound and it’s origins.

The lights were turned on immediately and we all saw the source of the chaos: Slim was standing on the side of Kevin’s bed repeatedly beating him in the head and face with a ‘lock in a sock’; a common prison weapon created by placing a metal lock inside a sock. Kevin’s face and head were bleeding profusely, which left a trail of blood down the dorm. He held a shirt to his head to minimize the bleeding as he was lead to a stretcher. Kevin was rushed to the infirmary and Slim was sent to the hole. Their belongings were packed up and brought to each one of them in their locations, the bloody sheets and mat were taken away to be cleaned, and then the lights were turned back off.

Now that was bad. However, what happened next was worse and let me know that I was no longer “normal”: I covered myself back up with my sheet and struggled to find a comfortable position on that 4” mat. Only this time, before I went back to sleep, I thought to myself “this is not normal”. After being abruptly awakened out of one’s sleep in the middle of the night to witnessing such a gruesome assault, a ‘normal’ person would probably be disturbed to the point of not being able to go back to sleep, or at least have a hard time falling back into sleep. Instead, I laid there thinking about what had just transpired – only for a few seconds – then I went back to sleep like nothing horrific happened. It was then that I knew without a doubt that I was ‘tution’ [too-shun]’.

Tution in the Louisiana penal system is a derivation of the word institutionalized. When it’s said that someone is ‘tution’, what’s meant is that person’s nature, customs, established laws or practices reflect the penal system. The title ‘tution’ is not exclusive to imprisoned people, only. Without realizing it’s impact on their lives, Wardens and other correctional officers can and do become worthy of being called ‘tution’ as well.

Now as far as myself: I don’t think prison has changed me into some kind of a monster without a conscience. So if reading this article raises concern for me, just ask yourself, would a monster take the time to write this article in the first place? I have been diligent in making sure I maintain that connection with my core humanity, a commitment I made to myself. Nevertheless, to think that I wasn’t affected by the violence and daily chaos in some kind of way would be an illusion. And I don’t want anyone to be under that illusion.

Much Love,

Soul