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Filmmakers advocate for prison abolition at San Quentin festival
A unique film festival with a powerful message
Samuel L. Jackson is sitting at the edge of a fountain, surrounded by the serene ambiance of a beautiful courtyard. Nearby, an ensemble of violinists, guitarists, and drummers fills the air with melodies from around the world. Jackson, however, isn’t here for a commercial shoot but to ask a deeper question: “What’s in your wallet?”
Before you wonder, let’s clarify—this isn’t the “Pulp Fiction” star, but another Samuel L. Jackson, who has been incarcerated for 28 years. We are at the San Quentin Film Festival, the first of its kind event that showcases creative works produced by incarcerated individuals.
An unexpected performance
Samuel, like his peers in the Greater Good Ensemble of Chapel C, processes his challenging circumstances through music. Just moments after meeting, he begins singing a self-composed song intended for a short film’s soundtrack—one we’ll watch later.
“I close my eyes,” he croons, “‘Cause I don’t wanna see / All the hurt and the pain and all the strain in my society / I close my eyes, my eyes / ‘Cause I don’t wanna see / What has become for those of us like you and me.”
Years of planning come to fruition
For nearly five years, Rahsaan Thomas, a formerly incarcerated documentarian, and Cori Thomas, a San Quentin volunteer, have dreamed of this festival. Their transformative experiences at the San Quentin media center, which trains inmates in filmmaking, inspired them. After receiving state approval in February, they assembled a team and secured funding and celebrity jurors to evaluate submissions from incarcerated filmmakers worldwide. What challenges media portrayals of prisoners more effectively than allowing them to tell their own stories?
Cori Thomas emphasized the purpose behind this festival: “We aim to challenge the preconceived notions instilled by media about incarcerated people. The best way to do this is to let them share their stories.”
High stakes and higher hopes
Today’s stakes are not just about the festival’s success but someone’s freedom. Cori addressed the attendees: “Our finalist filmmaker, Raheem Ballard, is at his parole hearing now. Let’s send him our best wishes. Hopefully, he will join us later with good news.”
Watching Raheem’s film, Dying Alone, the audience feels a collective sense of pain and hope. The film tackles the grim subject of compassionate release, where terminally ill inmates try to spend their final days with loved ones but often face bureaucratic hurdles. The men in state-issued blue uniforms shift uncomfortably, reliving witnessed moments of hope lost.
Film panel and transformative stories
W. Kamau Bell, renowned for his television series on CNN and Showtime, moderated a discussion with filmmakers who presented their documentaries. Raheem, unable to join due to his hearing, had his peers filling the gap with their transformative stories.
Louis Salé discussed his film, Healing Through Hula which reconnects him to his Hawaiian roots. He describes it as “an apology letter to his culture” after years of neglect leading up to his fatal DUI. Antwan Williams, who directed Every Second, spoke about coping with life post-incarceration through his abstract dance piece: “There’s versions of myself that will never leave these walls. I can never get past that, but I can’t run away from who I was to become who I can be.”
Unexpected joy: A parole granted
As awards start being distributed, Rahsaan grabs the microphone amid a building drumroll. With a grin, he announces, “Raheem was found suitable.” The auditorium erupts into cheers, filled with hope and joy. Shortly after, a triumphant Raheem joins the room to a louder ovation.
Raheem, having served 22 years, addressed the crowd: “I wasn’t supposed to be here today. My release date was set for 2039. It was hard not to give up, but all praises to God.” Cries of “God is great” echoed as the crowd showered him with support.
Raheem also conveyed a poignant message: “There’s enormous talent behind these walls. Let’s make this an annual event.”
Celebratory end and a hopeful future
Raheem’s night didn’t end with parole approval. He received both the International Documentary Association’s Supported Artist Award and the American Documentary POV Award, granted without knowing of his parole hearing. Though he had to attend to pressing matters, the resounding message of hope and transformation lingered.
The San Quentin Film Festival not only highlights the untapped talents behind prison walls but advocates for a society that listens to and learns from those often silenced.
Share this story on your social platforms to spread awareness about the power of creative expression and the need for justice reform. Stay tuned for more tales of transformation.## Reimagining incarceration: San Quentin film festival champions prison abolition
A festival unlike any other
In the beautiful courtyard of San Quentin, Samuel L. Jackson, surrounded by the harmonious sounds of violinists, guitarists, and drummers, stands apart. This isn’t the iconic actor, but another Samuel L. Jackson—an incarcerated individual who has been serving his sentence for 28 years. Today, he is part of the inaugural San Quentin Film Festival.
Merging music and storytelling
Samuel, a member of the Greater Good Ensemble of Chapel C, channels his experiences into his art. Just moments after meeting, he begins serenading with a self-composed song for a short film soundtrack we will watch later:
“I close my eyes / ‘Cause I don’t wanna see / All the hurt and the pain and all the strain in my society / I close my eyes, my eyes / ‘Cause I don’t wanna see / What has become for those of us like you and me.”
The genesis of the festival
For five years, Rahsaan Thomas, a formerly incarcerated documentarian, and Cori Thomas, a volunteer at San Quentin, have envisioned this festival. Their transformative experiences at the prison’s media center, which trains inmates in filmmaking, inspired them. After gaining approval in February, they organized funding and secured celebrity jurors to judge submissions from incarcerated filmmakers worldwide. Cori emphasizes, “We challenge preconceived notions instilled by media about incarcerated individuals by letting them share their stories.”
High expectations and deeper stakes
Today’s stakes aren’t merely about the festival’s success but the freedom of someone among them. Raheem Ballard, a finalist filmmaker facing a parole hearing, receives good wishes from attendees. His short film, Dying Alone, tackles the grim subject of compassionate release. Through emotional storytelling, it critiques the bureaucratic hurdles preventing terminally ill inmates from reuniting with loved ones.
Filmmaking and personal transformation
W. Kamau Bell, known for his incisive TV series, moderates a panel featuring filmmakers who presented their documentaries. Due to his parole hearing, Raheem couldn’t join. Instead, others share their transformative stories. Louis Salé discusses Healing Through Hula, a film reconnecting him to his Hawaiian roots, and Antwan Williams talks about his piece, Every Second, exploring identity post-incarceration.
A moment of triumph
During the awards ceremony, Rahsaan announces, “Raheem was found suitable.” The room erupts in cheers. Raheem joins, sharing his emotional journey:
“I wasn’t supposed to be here today. My release date was set for 2039. It was hard not to give up, but all praises to God.”
His words resonate deeply with those present, who see hope and transformation encapsulated in his journey.
Day two: Unmasking the prison system
Day two sees more profound discussions. The first screening is “Songs From the Hole”, a documentary about solitary confinement and hip-hop, followed by “Four Letters”, showcasing skills learned in prison translating to post-incarceration success. Former White House associate director Brad Jenkins asserts during the film panel, “There should be no prisons,” leaving a powerful impression.
Another highlight is “The Strike”, depicting hunger strikes protesting inhumane conditions. In a raw Q&A session, Jack Morris equates the experiences of prison staff to those of inmates. San Quentin’s associate warden, Rosalinda Rosalez, acknowledges the psychological toll on correctional officers, indicating a profound need for systemic change.
The human connection
Jay Kim, an inmate, comments on Rosalez’s admission, reflecting on the humanity shared between inmates and staff. He remarks on the importance of remembering their commonalities, despite challenging interactions.
“Yes, the cops might treat me like I’m an animal,” he observes, “but that just tells me they have something unsettled within them.”
Reflecting on an impactful experience
Joe Talbot, director of “The Last Black Man in San Francisco”, praises the festival’s authenticity, contrasting it with commercial film events. His sentiment resonates through the festival, emphasizing conversations rooted in empathy and genuine curiosity.
Throughout my conversations, a recurring theme emerges: the power dynamic between those inside and outside prison walls. Men express gratitude for being treated like human beings, challenging visitors, myself included, to ensure we earn that appreciation authentically.
Before the final screening, I sit by the fountain with Alex Ivany, reflecting on the powerful documentary “13th”. We’re joined by Ramon Fritz, an inmate, who keenly compares the day’s atmosphere to the reality of prison life. Through the plumes of fountain water, the juxtaposition of celebration and ongoing confinement becomes stark.
As I leave San Quentin, the festival leaves a lasting impression. It showcases not just films but a reimagined perspective on incarceration, underlining the shared humanity between all attending.
Feel inspired? Share the thought-provoking experiences from the San Quentin Film Festival on social media and follow our site for more transformative stories.# San Quentin film festival: A beacon of prison reform through creativity
Transforming incarceration with art
In the serene courtyard of San Quentin, the air vibrates with the harmonious melodies of violinists, guitarists, and drummers. Here, Samuel L. Jackson—a different Jackson than the actor you’re likely thinking of—isn’t focusing on his wallet but on something far deeper: the human spirit. This Jackson has been incarcerated for 28 years and today participates in a groundbreaking event—the San Quentin Film Festival.
Musical reflections
Samuel, part of the Greater Good Ensemble of Chapel C, uses music to process his circumstances. Within moments of meeting us, he sings a self-composed song intended for a short film. His lyrics resonate deeply:
“I close my eyes / ‘Cause I don’t wanna see / All the hurt and the pain and all the strain in my society / I close my eyes, my eyes / ‘Cause I don’t wanna see / What has become for those of us like you and me.”
A vision years in the making
For almost five years, Rahsaan Thomas, a formerly incarcerated documentarian, and Cori Thomas, a San Quentin volunteer, have envisioned this festival. Their transformative experiences at the prison’s media center, which trains inmates in filmmaking, inspired their vision. After securing state approval in February and organizing a team, they rallied support and garnered celebrity jurors to evaluate films from incarcerated filmmakers worldwide.
“We aim to challenge media-instilled misconceptions about incarcerated people by letting them tell their own stories,” says Cori Thomas.
Freedom at stake
Today’s stakes aren’t limited to the festival’s success but extend to an inmate’s freedom. Raheem Ballard, a finalist filmmaker, faces a parole hearing. As the crowd watches his film, Dying Alone, they are moved by its critique of the compassionate release process. The film underscores the bureaucratic obstacles that terminally ill inmates face, often dying in prison after being denied release.
Filmmaking as a lifeline
W. Kamau Bell, famed for his incisive TV series, moderates a panel of filmmakers. Among them are Louis Salé and Antwan Williams, who couldn’t attend the screening due to daily prison activities. Louis’s film, Healing Through Hula, reconnects him with his Hawaiian roots, while Antwan’s piece, Every Second, explores identity post-incarceration.
A jubilant announcement
During the awards ceremony, Rahsaan grabs the microphone and joyfully announces, “Raheem was found suitable.” The room erupts into cheers as Raheem walks in, sharing his journey:
“I wasn’t supposed to be here today. My release date was set for 2039. It was hard not to give up, but all praises to God.”
His words spark a deep resonance among the attendees, symbolizing hope and transformation.
Exploring prison life through film
Day two of the festival brings raw cinema and poignant discussions. It opens with “Songs From the Hole”, documenting solitary confinement and hip-hop, followed by “Four Letters”, showcasing the commendable post-incarceration success of individuals who learned coding in prison. Former White House advisor Brad Jenkins delivers a decisive statement: “There should be no prisons.”
The Strike, chosen as the day’s best feature by an internal jury, captures hunger strikes protesting solitary confinement conditions. During the screening’s Q&A, Jack Morris equates prison staff experiences with inmate life. San Quentin’s associate warden Rosalinda Rosalez admits the psychological toll on correctional officers, calling for systemic changes.
Humanizing the incarcerated
Jay Kim, an inmate, reflects on Rosalez’s admission, acknowledging the shared humanity of staff and inmates. “Yes, the cops might treat me like I’m an animal,” Jay notes, ”but that just tells me they have something unsettled within them.”
Reflecting on a transformative experience
Joe Talbot, director of “The Last Black Man in San Francisco”, praises the festival’s sincerity. Unlike commercial film events, this festival centered around empathy and genuine inquiry.
Conversations at the festival were deeply humanizing, challenging us to contemplate the unspoken power dynamics. Men in blue uniforms frequently thanked us for treating them with humanity, prompting introspection on how to genuinely earn that gratitude.
Closing thoughts: A lasting impression
Before the final screening, I sit by the fountain with Alex Ivany, a filmmaker known for working on “13th”. An inmate named Ramon Fritz joins us, describing his dual reality—briefly forgetting his incarceration amidst artistic discussions.
As we leave San Quentin, the festival’s impact lingers. It showcased more than films; it presented a reimagined perspective on incarceration, emphasizing our shared humanity.
Feeling inspired? Share the powerful experiences from the San Quentin Film Festival on social media and stay tuned for more transformative stories.
