Life Stories
Life is a song worth singing a prayer worth speaking ever so surely
not pleading but thanking, rejoicing Life is a cry worth crying when fresh from the tears
emerges a new you born of the revelations pushed up from your spirit
through the tears that
flow freely and allow the same freedom for you Life is a question, questioned
and an answer, answered deeper and deeper
with greater knowing and clearness each time you question and the soul speaks its answer
Life is a breath worth taking an exhale seeking
give and take
Life is a call to the awakened Spirit: teach me, open the inward door
and out pour the hidden stories Life is a story worth telling
Listen. Just listen Hear me. See me heal.
During my years of study in the PhD in Leadership and Change program at Antioch University there were many fascinating theories and research methodologies presented for review, investigation, practice, and use in developing the required individual learning
achievements. Coming into the PhD program with vested experience as a community activist and practitioner, it was natural for me to be drawn to the qualitative research methods, i.e. case studies, phenomenology, action research, ethnography. These qualitative methods are avenues for me to tell the stories of the lives and situations lived by people for whom I advocate fairness and justice and also as a means to use scholarly research to direct the attention of government and community leaders, scholars, and practitioners to the plight of ex-offenders seeking
redemption from their past. These methods are so alive to me as opposed to quantitative methods steeped in scientific evidentiary-based principles producing data and numbers and analyses to prove a theory, or not. Qualitative research involves people and action, even if it is only through observation. It is as an exchange and a change, as in my poem at the beginning of this chapter, whether visually perceived or not. It is humanistic. I enjoy the personal and direct involvement that is associated with qualitative research methodologies. I feel more connected with the work, and, most likely, because of my practitioner history, I feel a greater sense of gaining meaning and progress toward accomplishment.
The prison population is a sensitive group in which individuals are protected by strictly defined and monitored procedures through universities and government funded programs. Most of the quantitative data, analyses, and reports are generated from counts of individuals: number of persons arrested, number of inmates by gender, number of inmates by age, and so on. A different set of rules applies when interviewing and/or observing and collecting information from or about persons with criminal histories, particularly those who are incarcerated or still in the
penal system, either by parole or probation. One must adhere to the research policies of protection, privacy, confidentiality, disclosure, and the right to refrain from or opt out of participation.
While the preparation and conduction of research with this group is more challenging than simply collecting and comparing data as in much of quantitative research, the process is much more rewarding and exciting for me. In qualitative research I can sense and view the intangibles that have relevance to the text of the conversation. I will not be restricted to an inflexible manner of data gathering, using a set of unalterable questions to test for specific outcomes.
One of my first research papers was a 2008 case study, What Makes Some Black Boys Bad Boys: A Case Study of Melanie B. Burris. Melanie Burris was a criminal. He lived a lifestyle of affluence supported by illegal activities involving women and drugs. He was
convicted to a 10-year term for murder and assault to commit murder and served his time in San Quentin Prison in California. Upon his release he returned to his familiar habit of criminal behavior, and after only one year on the streets, he was arrested and convicted of a new crime. He served a second 10-year sentence in San Quentin Prison. M. Burris was released in 1972, and upon his return home he vowed he would never go back to prison. He has remained free to this day.
Melanie was sentenced for his crime during the era of indeterminate sentencing, which is a penal sentencing structure that provides a sentencing range of incarceration for applicable convictions, e.g. the judge could decree a sentence of 5 to 15 years, meaning a minimum of 5 years and likely no more than 15 for the criminal offense for which he was convicted. The prisoner could be released at any time during that period. He might serve only 5 years if he
received credit for good behavior, taking up a trade or some other favorable choice, or he could be held until the total 15 years were served. With tougher laws and longer sentences encouraged by the tough on crime platforms that many politicians advocated in the 80s and the following decades, the prisons were filling faster, and inmates were being held to the end of the range rather than being released at their minimum time served. Melanie was imprisoned for two separate 10-year sentences before the age of 50. He was last released in 1984. If he had been convicted of another crime after his last release from prison, it is likely he would still be
incarcerated because the three strikes law enacted in California in 1994 would have mandated a sentence of life in prison. The subject of my case study and the research question was, “What made Melanie Baptiste Burris so bad?” I was fascinated and disturbed by his story of bad behavior as an adolescent and his increasingly violent behavior and criminal acts as he became an adult. And, I was equally fascinated by his ability to stop being bad.
A quote from Max van Manen aptly reflects Melanie’s story: “The narrative power of story is that sometimes it can be more compelling, more moving, more physically and
emotionally stirring than lived-life itself.” (1990, p. 129). In Melanie’s words:
I knew I could not do any more time in prison. I could not go back to San Quentin. I escaped the gas chamber by a miracle and I know God spared me because he had
something for me to do. I talk to these guys and women out here now and try to tell them to straighten up their lives. Sometimes, I’ll cook dinner and feed them just so I can talk to them, try to help ‘cause the prisons now ain’t no joke.” (M. Burris, 2007, case study participant, as told to N. Nightingale)
Considering the literature that exists regarding barriers to reentry and high recidivism rates, particularly among African Americans and people of color, there is relatively little research exploring and discussing successful reentry. How did Melanie Burris and the few like him change from a life of crime to a life free of criminal behavior? That is the question. The question has been studied by advanced academics, seasoned scholars, and experienced criminologists.
I first embraced phenomenology at a lecture at Antioch University where the
methodology was introduced. The theory and practice of phenomenology resonated with me as an enticing way to research, learn, and write about the question of successful desistance. The process of seeking the answers, the quest of the inquiry through individuals who have lived criminal lives and who are successfully living and sustaining a life of desistance intrigues me. I believe this research may ultimately provide an opportunity for the participant and the researcher to present those lived experiences to a community of individuals with similar backgrounds. Such stories may influence life changes from criminal behavior to desistance for others. For this effort, narrative inquiry, a phenomenological approach, is a fitting framework.