Prison and Reality TV
One of the first shows I ever binged-watch was the popular A&E program, Beyond Scared Straight. There were nights when I wouldn’t go to bed, rationalizing the harm in watching two or three more episodes. With each new episode brought a new set of kids with a sleuth of misdemeanors and a new set of police guards, whose tactics pushed the envelope.
Reflecting on the show now, I understand that the intersection of prison and reality television is a deadly one. It takes a form of media already created to make viewers feel above those they are watching and weaponizes it against people whose incarcerated status already presents their life as a lesson to others, rather than a holistic human existence.
Like most of the television shows I binge watch, Beyond Scared Straight became my obsession for a few weeks and then gradually slipped from my mind. It appeared most recently while I was reading a passage from Angela Y. Davis’ Are Prisons Obsolete?. In one section of the book, Davis addresses how prisons have become such a large part of our “image environment” that from the minute we begin to consume media about prisons, we are simultaneously desensitized to, and familiarized with, its state-claimed meaning and purpose. It’s in this way that “prison has become a key ingredient of our common sense” and consequently, it becomes even harder to imagine a society without them.
From this, I can comprehend how my early experiences with images of incarceration in Beyond Scared Straight have shaped my internalization of the prison as a “naturalized part” of my social landscape, along with the millions of others who composed the show’s audience.
It led me to rewatch an old episode and see how my perspectives on the show have changed, as my politic over the last few years has evolved from accepting prisons as a part of my landscape to wanting their dismantlement. While watching Beyond Scared Straight I was shocked at the things that were allowed.
The episode centered around fifteen-year-old, David who was referred to the program for anger management problems. The other three boys being highlighted were close family friends. Johnny, age 15, was referred to the program for stealing and smoking weed. Dante, also 15, for fighting and bullying. The youngest in the trio, Daryun, was known to steal, fight, and do drugs as well. Two of the three boys had family members that at the time were incarcerated at the very same jail in which they would be filming the program.
The beginning of the episode starts with one official stating that the rise in youth crime is due to a “lack of resources” and the fact that there are no community-based programs “to plug these kids into.”
The show for the next 40 minutes, rather than working to actively address the aforementioned problem, forces children to process unresolved traumas in front of national television, witness and be victims of sexual harassment, intentional provocation, and cruel and unusual punishment- all in the name of loving these kids and wanting them to do better.
The program also fails to address the fact that many children will not respond well to scare tactics employed throughout the program due to the exact nature of desensitization outlined by Davis. A large part of the program consists of showing children the horrors and dangers of living behind bars, yet much of these dangers have already been filmed and displayed on other television shows and media for their consumption. When asked if he could stand being in jail, Johnny states, “I think I can survive jail… actually I know I can survive jail.” In a sense, what they witness is nothing new, but a reiteration of the things they see on television programs just like Beyond Scared Straight.
The mistreatment of the children starts when 15-year-old David, during entry, states plainly to one officer, “I don’t care if you have a badge or a gun.” Despite quite literally, only speaking and posing no threat, he is handcuffed. Intentional provocation of the children is apparent throughout the episode and it is obvious the guards do so to get a rise and inflict state sponsored violence. “You forget you’re in our world now. This ain’t your world no more; you belong to us,” says one white jail guard to a young black Johnny.
From there, the deindividuation and dehumanization only worsens. After having them put on uniforms, one guard yells at a 14-year-old boy to stop wiping tears from his face, as they are paraded around the jail and incarcerated people taunt them. Among those incarcerated people is Terrence, in his early twenties, who despite being in a similar program when he was 15, now is in the jail himself, having dismissed the program at the time as a “whatever, I’m not doing what they’re doing.”
A fascinating aspect of the show as well is how much trouble the guards go through to show how bad they are at their own jobs. In many instances, the guards sensationalize the very parts of prison that should make them ashamed to work there in the first place. Taunting the children and telling them to “start chowing the fuck down,” they force them to eat food that looks and is said by other prisoners to taste terrible.
Perhaps the starkest example of this veneration of the worse parts of prison occurs a few minutes after everyone sits down to eat. Evidently bored with what he’s been seeing so far, Daryun turns to his friend, says, “watch this” and makes a ‘sudden movement,’ standing up and turning away from the table. The guards take his bait and forcibly hold him down to the floor for several minutes and ask him if he is going to “stop being a dick?” Even the bait Daryun throws is indicative of the murky intersections of incarceration and media. Because of prison’s ubiquitous presence in media, not only are we socialized to accept how commonplace the prison is- we are also encouraged to construct stereotypes of how people in prison behave. Just as guards see their roles reflected back to them through media as “essentially violent enforcers” and respond accordingly, incarcerated people may also be socialized to behave in certain ways as well. Prison films and TV shows have drilled into our heads that ‘prisoners’ rebel and guards bring the law and order. This message is not exclusively internalized by the hypothetical people consuming media, but the very people who work in and populate these prisons.
The children are quickly taken to a Protective Custody Unit where Daryun receives punishment (as if being pressed into the ground were not enough). The 14-year-old gets strapped to a chair as a guard taunts his friends, asking if they also would like to be put in the chair. After tightening the straps and placing a gauze bag over his head, the image we see is jarring. A black boy in prison garb, tightly strapped to a chair with his hands behind his back and a mesh bag blurring his likeness.
Yet another disturbing aspect of the program spoken of in “Are Prisons Obsolete?” is state-sponsored sexual violence. Throughout the program, the children experience sexual harassment in the form of sexual threats and remarks. One incarcerated person shows two of the children the shower and then tells them, “Anytime you’re in the shower, I don’t have to tell you to drop the soap. You’re going to drop the shit. You’re going to bend the fuck over.” Another forces a child to tell him that he will “wipe his ass.” Afterwards, the 27-year-old demands, “Now say thank you because I ain’t rape you.” to which the child, visibly uncomfortable, states, “Thank you… for not raping me.” All of this takes place while a prison guard monitors the entire encounter.
In the end, the children line up in front of their parents and guardians and apologize for all the wrong done and pain caused. Correctional officers that only moments ago were abusing or observing the abuse of those children attempt to extend their emotional hearts. One C.O. even goes as far as suggesting that David’s lack of a father figure is the reason for his anger mismanagement. Whether there might be truth to this statement, I cannot say because I do not know David- but neither does correctional officer Ron Carallo.
The program shows the boys one month later, fortunately all doing better. Johnny becomes a part of Young Scholars, a program that allows him to take a trip to D.C. and get a job. Daryun works on becoming a better role model and big brother to his little sisters. Dante has been staying out of trouble and as a result, his father gives him more freedom and responsibility. David states that he’s been working on his anger. His mother believes he needs a role model and in near perfect timing we see C.O. Carallo pull up in front of David’s house in his red cherry Mustang and throw a football around in the street with David.
The unanimous decision all boys reach in the end? “[Jail] is not a good place to be. I don’t want to be… [there].” The program succeeds in showing them the why to this statement, but as for the systemic steps towards actualizing this realization, we are still left wondering.
Sources
“Oneida, County, N.Y.” Beyond Scared Straight. A&E, 2012.
Davis, Angela Y. Are Prisons Obsolete?. New York City, Seven Stories Press. 2003. pp. 17–18.
