Trips to San Quentin: Reflecting on Contradictions, by Carly Cooper and Emily Mannion

In this reflection on a visit to San Quentin State Prison, Emily Mannion and Carly Cooper explore the striking contradictions of the institution: its scenic location and historic architecture contrast sharply with the harsh realities of life inside. Through encounters with incarcerated participants, facilitators, and program co-leads, the authors witness remarkable resilience, insight, and dedication to personal growth. They highlight moments of joy, creative expression, and transformation within the prison walls, as well as the powerful symbolism of murals depicting progress in incarceration. The piece underscores the potential for rehabilitation and systemic change, offering a call to action for supporting programs, advocating for reform, and amplifying the voices of those working toward growth and transformation behind bars.

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Surrounded by the beauty of the bay and lavish county of Marin, San Quentin is an institution of contradiction. From the outside, San Quentin has a special kind of allure. It sits in a beautiful spot on the bay; the sunlight bouncing off the water, the sound of crashing waves, and the scent of the San Francisco Bay decorating the backdrop of California’s oldest prison. Inside of the walls however, the reality isn’t as beautiful. Despite its castle-like facade and scenic surroundings, when standing outside of San Quentin, it is easy to feel the weight of the stone, steel bars, and stories that wait just inside. Entering the prison, we walked into a courtyard full of plants, fountains with water features, and the light hum of conversation. Walking across the courtyard to the chapel, we could almost forget what kind of institution we’d just entered.

As picturesque as the courtyard and chapel are, just a few feet away are the cellblocks. This is where a contradiction can clearly be seen. At a past San Quentin visit, we’d gotten the chance to enter a cellblock and even set foot in an empty cell. “Set foot in” is the only phrase that can describe that experience, as the cell was like living on the footprint of a Twin XL mattress… with a roommate. There was no room to stand between the bed and the wall, the ceiling was low and cramped, and we could not believe that incarcerated individuals actually called these cells home. Also visible from the courtyard is the exhaust pipe from the old gas chamber. Right above a memorial for fallen officers, inmates can see this reminder of how incarcerated individuals have been treated by our justice system throughout history. Looming over them is the symbol of hundreds of deaths administered by their very own now rehabilitation center.

The incarcerated program participants, facilitators, and co-leads we met with were some of the most articulate and insightful individuals we’ve ever encountered. They possess a deep understanding of their circumstances and the systems that have shaped their lives, and they express their experiences with remarkable clarity. Their dedication to the programs they participate in is truly inspiring, especially given the difficult challenges they often face. One attendee of our meeting, Donald Thompson, spoke so passionately about our program, particularly about processing sessions for participants to cope with the intense feelings writing can evoke. Donald displayed such raw, powerful emotion while simultaneously processing the difficult news that his parole had been denied and wouldn’t be eligible for review for another five years. Despite that devastating setback, Donald came to our meeting ready to work and spoke with clarity, poise, and passion. Moments like these make it easy to forget where you are, and they truly demonstrate why people want to be there. Despite the terrifying living conditions, there is such a wealth of programs and progress being made within San Quentin’s walls, and it was truly inspiring to see.

While waiting for Dr. Espinoza to wrap up with Mr. Haines, we were waiting in the chapel hallway. Across the hallway from our meeting room, a group of incarcerated individuals were dancing, laughing, and chatting. We could hear their music and conversation through the wall, and we watched these men connect to their heritage through movement. It was just for a few minutes, but feeling the joy emanating from that room stayed with us after we left, a reminder that resilience and humanity can thrive even in the most challenging circumstances.

The passion, resilience, and growth we witnessed in the people participating in these programs is mirrored in the very walls of San Quentin. Several murals decorate the walls of San Quentin, but there’s one in particular that shows the progress that’s been made to life in incarceration. The mural depicts the changes in the life of incarcerated individuals, from when San Quentin first opened to today. The difference between the black and white striped criminal and the program-incentivized incarcerated individual depicted in this mural is so indicative of the positive change that our justice system has undergone. Despite the progress that has been made, there are still so many remnants of the 1852 maximum security prison that was home to California’s death row. Amid the echoes of its long and often brutal history, the murals, programs, and the people who inspire them remind us that transformation is possible, and that hope and growth can flourish even within the old walls of San Quentin.

Seeing the resilience and growth inside San Quentin is a powerful reminder that change is possible. We all have a role to play, whether supporting programs, advocating for reform, or simply sharing these stories. Every action helps create a justice system that uplifts rather than confines, and together we can be part of that transformation.