This is the second installment in a weekly series by Dianna Marder about her volunteer work in a local prison.  Read the whole series here.  

LIFE WRITING WITH LIFERS

Blog entry: week two (filed 3/17/09 by dianna marder)

On Week Two, we had one dropout and two new members in the Memoir Writing Workshop I am leading for men serving life sentences in a state penitentiary that shall remain nameless in order to protect the privacy of the participants. Nobody “forgot” to bring their composition books and pens; nobody made signs of wanting to leave early – all good signs.

This week’s prompt was What’s In a Name. I asked them to consider the power of a name. As first names go, Barack conveys more than Michelle, for example. And it’s easy to see why in high school you might ask your friends to call you Barry. 

I’ve done this exercise before with memoir writers and I knew this would be different. Not to overemphasize the “they’ve given you a number and taken away your name” aspect, but when you’re living behind bars and condemned to dress in identical faded maroon scrubs, a moniker matters even more.

The men had the option to write about their own names or those of their parents; first names or last (and by the way, how many last names?); nicknames (Fatso, Four-eyes, Champ, Chump?); people they were named for; and, what they were told about their names (Really, I’m supposed to be a Peace Maker?)

Here are some snippets of what they wrote:

* I wasn’t given my father’s last name – even though he and mom were married – and I still don’t know why.

* I took on a Muslim name when I was a teenager, but as an adult I went back to using the name my mother gave me. It turned out to be all she was able to give me.

* I took on an animal nickname but girls laughed at it.

* I took on an animal nickname and later felt bad because that animal has a bad rep – in the animal world and the human world.

* I hated my name when I was growing up, because of the way my mother said it. But when my girlfriend whispered it in my ear, I heard it differently. There’s nothing like hearing your name on a woman’s lips.

These guys are not blocked or defensive. They’re smart, they’re serious about exploring their truths, and they’re intent on hearing one another. I’m afraid this experience will spoil me for any other kind of teaching.

           More tk

-Dianna Marder

(Editor’s Note: With major newspapers failing nearly every day, “newsroom speak” may be an endangered language. Click the link and help keep it alive!)