Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Truth Be Told, part 2

The ceremony made a deep impression because it seemed to me that what they were doing was REAL work, meaningful work, work that really mattered, that made a difference in the lives of the incarcerated women with whom they worked, giving them an opportunity and the social and emotional support to examine and change the direction of their lives. And THAT would then ripple out to their families, their communities, and the world.

Changing the world, one small group of incarcerated women at a time.

This was my understanding after I attended a graduation in the Lockhart prison of women who had completed Truth Be Told's beginning classes. It moved me so much, I was on fire to become part of Truth Be Told.

Continuing from part 1 of this post (on FB, go to my wall and view earlier notes to find it--I sent it Aug. 20).

I could relate to the imprisoned women. Who among us has not wondered how we got into some less-than-lovely circumstance? Who has not encountered a prison of their own making, even if it didn't have bars? Who has not yearned for the support and courage and guidance to really change their lives for the better? Who has not made mistakes?

So I volunteered. Since I worked days and the prison classes were on workdays, I found another way to participate. I was a liaison between Story Circle Network (women's writing circles) and the Truth Be Told students who wished to submit their stories to Story Circle Network's publications.

And while doing this, I noticed that organizationally, Truth Be Told was having growing pains. Started by three women who volunteered in the prison, the demand for their classes was surging. The warden had asked them to start another program for inmates who were nearing release, called Short-Timing. Many people who had attended a graduation or otherwise learned about their work wanted to help, and this up took a lot of their time.

Truth Be Told had gotten 501(3)c nonprofit status around the time I got connected, but it was mostly a piece of paper and a promise. Organizationally it was shaky. There was a board of directors, but no clear shared vision, just a consensus that it was a good thing.

I wanted to be on the board to help guide Truth Be Told to stability and success. And I was, for 2 years. It was demanding of me, and it's very satisfying in hindsight to look back at what I/we accomplished.

It was not a smooth road at all. Right after I came onto the board, one founder resigned. A wealthy donor had paid for six people to get expensive training in nonprofit fundraising, and all but one of those people left before we even had our first annual fundraiser! The turnover of board members was a churn. For a while, I was one of only three. Bobby, Keith, and me.

And I tell you, I am an unlikely member of anyone's board of directors. True, I do have a responsible job with the Legislative Budget Board, but when I retire in three years, I fully intend to become a free spirit--I'll be wearing yoga clothes every day, teaching yoga. I'll get some more tattoos, and I may even try dreadlocks with my long gray hair. And yet there I was, a board member with men in suits!

My vision was that Truth Be Told SHOULD be a nonprofit instead of a mission under the wing of a church. As a mission, the work would be labeled religious, whereas I saw it as more spiritual. Nonprofit status had more potential for expansion, and so I pushed for that.

My mission was to help Truth Be Told become a stable nonprofit. I saw what needed to happen: regular communication to supporters, a way to raise funds to support the work, and a clear vision.

I used the skills I had to develop and edit a quarterly newsletter, with columns by the founders, stories from the women, information about upcoming events, a wish list, and so on. This was a labor of love. If you can do something that's public on a regular basis over time, you create stability. The perception of stability is reassuring to prospective donors and volunteers. And Truth Be Told is now celebrating 5 years as a nonprofit, so I/we succeeded in that.

The other thing I did was develop a database of donors, supporters, and volunteers for Truth Be Told. I literally typed contact information from multiple Excel files into the database, so that we could do mass mailings and emailings, track donations, send out year-end IRS letters, and so on.

It was a lot of work, and I did it because it needed to be done. TBT couldn't afford to wait for the right person to come along and do these things, and so I became "the right person". And I eventually even had a volunteer to help with database entry work. Thanks, Judy Edwards!

After two years, I realized that my work as a board member was complete. We had had a successful fundraiser that allowed Truth Be Told to hire a much-needed part-time administrator (although truth be told, there is always a need for more financial support--the work demands more time than the admin gets paid for, and a paid volunteer coordinator would be awesome).

The database was and is continuing to grow, indicating new supporters are learning about it and wanting to help.

The founders and board had attended strategic planning meetings that resulted in clear directions for Truth Be Told to grow: to provide more support for the women after release and to be able to expand the programs and train others to take them into other prisons.

New board members came on board--young, energetic--and I was exhausted and needed to pull my resources back in and take care of myself, so I resigned.

Next: Truth Be Told part 3 (look for it tomorrow)!

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Truth Be Told, part 1

Have you ever been part of something that made a difference in the lives of many? I have, and here's my story.

In 2002, my then-new friend Suzanne Armistead, whom I met through InterPlay, was talking about her volunteer work with women at the state prison in Lockhart. It sounded interesting, and when she invited me to come to the prison and witness a graduation ceremony, I signed up and went.

What I saw was probably one of the most heart-opening events I've ever had the grace to witness. Woman after woman, dressed in drab prison garb, came up and told her story to those of us who came to witness, about how she came to be in prison. Each one was so vulnerable, so authentic, and so brave, publicly coming to terms with their pasts to total strangers, pasts that were often full of a lack of resources, lack of good judgment, lack of support, lack of love. So much lack.

And yet, here they were, now part of a program that teaches public speaking, respectful listening, writing, movement, and creative skills to incarcerated women, a support that continues after their release from prison and back into society.

And the way they told their stories was as if they were not victims or perpetrators, but vulnerable AND strong! Strong, capable women who owned themselves and who were telling their pasts and claiming their own futures right in front of our eyes.

I don't believe there was a dry eye among the witnesses. The energy filling the prison gym was totally amazing and unexpected. We witnessed the human soul laid bare, struggling with pain and shame and suffering, and yet also present was hope for the future, amazing talent, beautiful smiles, shy giggles, rockin' hair styles, motivation, determination, and a very warm welcome for us visitors in one of the most sterile, unfriendly environments you can imagine.