Searching for a fragment of me

(A horrifying look at the impact of Supermax solitary confinement)

“In order to reform them, they have been submitted to complete isolation; but this absolute solitude, if nothing interrupts it, is beyond the strength of man; it destroys the criminal without intermission and without pity, it does not reform, it kills.” (Alexis de Tocqueville, 1833).

For three decades I was housed in Supermax solitary confinement here in the State Department of Corrections in Pennsylvania. One of the many negative consequence… a severe denial of human fundamental needs, I was forbidden to hug the very woman that gave me birth. This became most painful both emotionally and spiritually when Mom was diagnosed with stage 5 cancer and soon after she lost her eye sight. I called home late one evening and she cried pleading with me to seek approval for a single contact visit. “Please! Tell them, that I am old and blind and have cancer. I cannot harm anyone.” VISIT DENIED!

I never knew the catastrophic emotional, psychological and physiological damage that 30 years in a restricted environmental stimulation had on me until recently when I was removed from Death Row and placed in General Population by order of the United States Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit.

Back in 2003, the Philadelphia Court vacated my death sentence and ordered that I be retried. For 15 years the Department of Corrections refused to move me from the Death Row housing unit. (Note: the Philadelphia DA’s office has appealed the order that I be retried for fifteen years. They have lost each and every appeal.)

The Third Circuit in its 2017 ruling forced the DoC to move me off the row, stating in part, “…it is now clearly established that inmates on Death Row whose death sentence have been vacated have a due process right to avoid continued placement in solitary confinement on Death Row.” (See: Third Circuit of Appeals Opinion No 14-1469, February 9, 2017).

I was sentenced to death in 1988. Just 18 years of age. I was tested at a grade school educational level. I suffer from a learning disability marked by difficulty in reading, writing and spelling. I am dyslexic.

My first day on Death Row, I turned my cell into a training camp. I learned how to sound one single word out at a time. I posted hand-made flash cards all over my cell. Slowly, I was able to put sentences together. I began to master the art of ME.

I wrote my first letter by the end of that first year. By the end of the next year I had read my first book. I would go on to read thousands of books. Not just Afro-Street literatures, but also the likes of James Baldwin, ‘The Fire Next Time’, Baldwin’s letters to his nephew… wise advice to love and serve. The following year, I had removed the flash cards and replaced them with my G.E.D. I was standing strong. The most beautiful thing that I discovered at this time was that, “I was no longer voiceless.”

Yes! I had a voice. Writing from my heart moved people. I became an award winning poet not just here in the USA but all over the world. Me!!! The nappy-headed black kid that teachers repeatedly said, “Would never be shit”. Kevin D’Wayne Pelzer pinned an explosive, expressionistic language musical ‘Rock Circus’ that was translated into Italian and performed by children in Condove, Italy (Yes, Rome). By the time I faced the court of appeals, I was ready to sit at the defence table and represent myself.

It is true that, “Life for each man… a solitary cell whose walls are mirrors” (Gladstone O’Neill, 1888). Every day while in solitary I looked into the mirror of my truth…I looked into the eyes of organic intellectual. A true literary-minded Souljah’.

It is only now that I am coming to the full understanding of what being condemned to prolonged solitary confinement has done to me. I am hypersensitive to stimuli, distortions of the unknown, increased anxiety and nervousness.

I suffer diminished impulse control, severe and chronic depression, appetite loss (I was 338 lbs when I was removed from the Row, 90 days later I was 265 lbs) and problems sleeping (I sleep only four hours a day if I am lucky, and only after taking four 5 mg Melatonin, 3x more than is recommended).

All the tools I had carefully gathered over the years to help me survive Death Row? Useless! Being one with the most profound intellectualism, is of no help. The very idea of being around other people is traumatic. My third-eye is blind in knowing when to fight, flee or stand my ground when someone greets me with a simple ‘hello’!

Lately, I find myself in a state of anger and frustration with the few people in the free world that have not aborted me. I find their words of love and encouragement repulsing. When they speak of the Souljah’ that was once me, fighting on the Row for so many years. Today I find their words hurtful. I am lost searching in the dark seeking to find a fragment of who (?) is the true me.

My first full-contact visit with my Mom after 30 years. I spent more time fiercely observing everything that moved in the visiting room (even the clock on the wall ticking - each time the second hand ticked, an exposition of nerves exploded in me) than I did fully enjoying this beloved first visit that Momma and I had prayed so hard to be blessed with.

While on Death Row, as I’ve explained, I had developed tools along the way that helped me survive. My single cell in Supermax solitary confinement became a refuge of hope in the heart of a true fighter.

Sadly, so many years of near-total isolation has exacted a terrible price! At this very moment, I seek a return back to the horror of normalcy that I suffered for so long. Back to the private incubator where imagination allowed me to survive.

Yes! Return to the very hellish monster that violated my spirit repeatedly for 30 years…Death Row.

Kevin Pelzer, Pennsylvania (2018)