'Women of the West' take on prison rodeo
Inmates say sport taught them value of teamwork.
By Julie Bisbee
THE OKLAHOMAN
Staff Writer
Friday, August 15, 2008
McLOUD — Lakota Wise has spent most of her life taking risks and cheating death. This weekend is no different.
But the adrenaline rush of riding on the back of rearing bull is the high 29-year-old seeks this weekend.
Wise is one of nine women who make up the "Women of the West," rodeo team from the Mabel Bassett Correctional Center in McLoud. The women, who have been training since June, will be one of two female teams to compete in the rodeo this weekend in McAlester. The women will compete in bronc riding, bull riding and cattle dogging. Teams from 10 different prisons will compete in the rodeo. Louisiana and Oklahoma are the only states with prison rodeos and Oklahoma's rodeo is the only one in the world behind prison walls.
Organizers expect 12,000 to 16,000 people to show up for the annual event tonight and Saturday night, said Terry Crenshaw, warden's assistant at the state prison. The prison rodeo in McAlester is legendary with such events as "Money The Hard Way," where inmates scramble to get a piece of ribbon attached to a bull's horns. The winner gets $100.
Few inmate teams practice with livestock before coming into the arena at McAlester.
"It's a whole lot different when you get down in the chute and see that bull," said Deborah Graumann, a rodeo team coach and health administrator at the prison.
To the rodeo
Wise is a sturdy American Indian woman who is serving a lengthy prison sentence for drug possession and forgery. It's her first year on the team.
"We're not here because we're innocent," Wise said. "We've risked our lives out on the street, now we're doing it on the back of the animal. This is something positive and the first time I've done something like this sober."
Tonight's rodeo will also be the first time the team has ridden livestock.
But on the back of a training bull, they've tackled the most formidable foe, their own doubts and fears, said Warden Millicent Newton-Embry.
"It's a demon to beat and that gives them a real sense of accomplishment," said Newton-Embry. "That bull is just a metaphor for their demon, be it fear, drugs or whatever it was that brought them into the system. They figure if they can do this, they can do anything."
Forming a bond
The afternoon sun blazes and glints off the razor wire as nine women huddle around a barrel anchored to the ground. The women have traded their prison-issued smocks for black jeans and purple work shirts. They sport cowboy boots made of smooth black leather or lace up work boots. The boots are sent in by family members specifically for rodeo training.
The women had been training well before their boots and dungarees arrived.
"We've been rolling down that hill trying to learn how to fall," said Bobbie Gragson, who is serving a sentence for manufacturing methamphetamine. "You got to learn how to ride, but you also got to learn how to fall."
Gragson, 42, is the only veteran team member. This will be her third trip to the rodeo. She takes on the role of team captain.
The first time Gragson stared down the back of a bull she was hoping to get hurt, to dull the pain of losing her mother that year.
"My first year was about self-destruction. I didn't want to be able to get through it," Gragson said. "But it helped me get in touch with my fear. I think it's helped us all blossom."
Gragson's long dark hair spills out of a black felt cowboy hat and trails behind her as she rides the bull. The women have been training on a barrel shaped like the back of a bull and anchored to the ground. On the back, two women heave the barrel to simulate the kicks of a bull. Another woman stands at the front of the barrel and pulls forward.
Lowery, 27, holds tight and lasts for six seconds. The women cheer her as she hops off the barrel. A few months ago, the thought of riding a bull or riding a horse bareback was out of the realm of possibility for Lowery, who is serving a sentence for second-degree burglary and completing a substance abuse treatment program.
Between calisthenics, weight training and riding drills, a bond has been forged.
"One of the things you never want to do in the penitentiary is trust someone," Gragson said. "But we trust each other. We trust the staff members that are working with us. They want to see us do something positive."
Under the lights of the arena and in the mud, the women feel they've earned their spot there — even if they stay on the bull for only two seconds.
"This is what separates the women from the girls," Gragson said. "You put on your rodeo face and you keep going."
IF YOU GO
Prison rodeo
Where: Oklahoma State Penitentiary, McAlester.
When: Gates open at 6 p.m., rodeo starts at 8 p.m. tonight and Saturday.
Tickets: Box seats $17; reserved $12; general admission $8. Tickets are available at the gate or can be purchased online from the McAlester Chamber of Commerce at www.mcalester.org.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Treatment plan specifically designed for female juveniles
By Julie Bisbee
The Oklahoman
Staff Writer
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
TECUMSEH — Three years ago, when the head of a state juvenile detention facility volunteered to accept all the female juvenile offenders in Oklahoma, the move was greeted with looks of disbelief and in some cases pity.
Today, however, the Central Oklahoma Juvenile Center has created a treatment program specifically for female offenders, and the program has become a model for other programs designed just for girls.
"We have a lot of people from other states who want to come in and see our program," said Gene Christian, executive director for the Office of Juvenile Affairs. "Very few states treat their female offenders dramatically different than their male offenders."
In Oklahoma, stemming the tide of adult female convicts is a priority. The state puts more women in jail, per capita, than any other.
At the juvenile level, officials are trying to treat problems that might otherwise send a girl down the path toward life as a criminal adult. The program for girls, whose crimes ranged from first-degree murder to assault and battery, is the first of its kind in Oklahoma.
In the past, female offenders were placed where space was available and the treatment and therapy programs were similar to what male offenders received, said Johnson, Central Oklahoma Juvenile Center's superintendent.
"They need different things," Johnson said. "You can't try to fit a square peg in a round hole. The girls need to talk more, they have questions and they have different issues."
Before the female offender program was put into place, girls who had been convicted of crimes were sent wherever there were open beds, usually the L.E. Rader facility in Sand Springs. When female offenders were consolidated, the Tecumseh facility had to take a look at the programs available. Boys were playing football and competing in volleyball tournaments.
The female offenders needed something different. Not all girls wanted to compete in tournaments or race in swim meets. Instead, the facility added programs such as quilting clubs, yoga, Girl Scouts and even a version of "Oprah's Book Club," Johnson said.
The uniforms the kids wear also changed. In the past, girls and boys wore square-cut jeans and different colored T-shirts that corresponded with their security level at the facility. Now girls and boys wear khaki pants that are more form-fitting, Johnson said. Girls also have a say in the type of swimming suits that are issued to teens.
There are 40 beds for female offenders at the Tecumseh facility, and while the number of female offenders has grown over the past few years, currently there are only 29 girls at the facility. Systemwide, female offenders make up about 10 percent of the total number of children serving time in a juvenile detention facility, according to figures from the Office of Juvenile Affairs.
Struggling through treatment
While juvenile offenders may have access to swimming pools, book clubs and radio-controlled airplane clubs, they also have to complete a treatment plan before being released.
"We hold them to it," Johnson said. "We hold their feet to the fire, and if we don't feel like they're making progress, we don't move them on."
Juveniles are not serving a sentence set by a judge, but rather completing a series of steps that will hopefully make it easier for them to cope in the outside world where temptation is great and offenders often fall back into old patterns with family or gangs. The approach isn't always popular, but officials say it works better than teaching kids to be "mini-DOC inmates."
Seth Trickey and Daniel Dillingham were both convicted of violent offenses and released from the juvenile system after completing all their phases of treatment.
Jordan, an 18-year-old from Oklahoma County, has been at the Tecumseh detention center for a little more than a year. She and her then-23-year-old boyfriend were convicted of killing Jordan's mother. Her mother had objected to their relationship, Jordan said.
Jordan is a soft-spoken, petite girl with a bright smile and soft voice. While being in treatment, she's had to understand her crime and her own personal weaknesses.
"I had a bad attitude when I came here. I didn't care about anything, and you couldn't tell me anything," she said. "There are things you do, that you don't realize are antisocial or anything. But when I came here they started pointing those things out to me, and that was hard at first."
Jordan has progressed, but still has plenty to work on. But while being at the juvenile detention facility, she's realized she has choices and goals for her life.
"Before I came here, I didn't have any goals," she said. "I was working as waitress in a restaurant, my mom was a waitress in a restaurant. I probably wasn't even going to finish high school. I like myself a lot more now."
Now she wants to pursue a cosmetology license and then eventually become a counselor, she said.
"I think I could help a lot of people," she said.
For Johnson, who has worked with troubled youth for nearly 24 years, giving kids a second chance is his motto.
"A lot of times kids get to come here to be kids," he said. "Some of them have never been to the movies before when the come here. ... We've just got to give them a chance to make positive choices."
The Oklahoman
Staff Writer
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
TECUMSEH — Three years ago, when the head of a state juvenile detention facility volunteered to accept all the female juvenile offenders in Oklahoma, the move was greeted with looks of disbelief and in some cases pity.
Today, however, the Central Oklahoma Juvenile Center has created a treatment program specifically for female offenders, and the program has become a model for other programs designed just for girls.
"We have a lot of people from other states who want to come in and see our program," said Gene Christian, executive director for the Office of Juvenile Affairs. "Very few states treat their female offenders dramatically different than their male offenders."
In Oklahoma, stemming the tide of adult female convicts is a priority. The state puts more women in jail, per capita, than any other.
At the juvenile level, officials are trying to treat problems that might otherwise send a girl down the path toward life as a criminal adult. The program for girls, whose crimes ranged from first-degree murder to assault and battery, is the first of its kind in Oklahoma.
In the past, female offenders were placed where space was available and the treatment and therapy programs were similar to what male offenders received, said Johnson, Central Oklahoma Juvenile Center's superintendent.
"They need different things," Johnson said. "You can't try to fit a square peg in a round hole. The girls need to talk more, they have questions and they have different issues."
Before the female offender program was put into place, girls who had been convicted of crimes were sent wherever there were open beds, usually the L.E. Rader facility in Sand Springs. When female offenders were consolidated, the Tecumseh facility had to take a look at the programs available. Boys were playing football and competing in volleyball tournaments.
The female offenders needed something different. Not all girls wanted to compete in tournaments or race in swim meets. Instead, the facility added programs such as quilting clubs, yoga, Girl Scouts and even a version of "Oprah's Book Club," Johnson said.
The uniforms the kids wear also changed. In the past, girls and boys wore square-cut jeans and different colored T-shirts that corresponded with their security level at the facility. Now girls and boys wear khaki pants that are more form-fitting, Johnson said. Girls also have a say in the type of swimming suits that are issued to teens.
There are 40 beds for female offenders at the Tecumseh facility, and while the number of female offenders has grown over the past few years, currently there are only 29 girls at the facility. Systemwide, female offenders make up about 10 percent of the total number of children serving time in a juvenile detention facility, according to figures from the Office of Juvenile Affairs.
Struggling through treatment
While juvenile offenders may have access to swimming pools, book clubs and radio-controlled airplane clubs, they also have to complete a treatment plan before being released.
"We hold them to it," Johnson said. "We hold their feet to the fire, and if we don't feel like they're making progress, we don't move them on."
Juveniles are not serving a sentence set by a judge, but rather completing a series of steps that will hopefully make it easier for them to cope in the outside world where temptation is great and offenders often fall back into old patterns with family or gangs. The approach isn't always popular, but officials say it works better than teaching kids to be "mini-DOC inmates."
Seth Trickey and Daniel Dillingham were both convicted of violent offenses and released from the juvenile system after completing all their phases of treatment.
Jordan, an 18-year-old from Oklahoma County, has been at the Tecumseh detention center for a little more than a year. She and her then-23-year-old boyfriend were convicted of killing Jordan's mother. Her mother had objected to their relationship, Jordan said.
Jordan is a soft-spoken, petite girl with a bright smile and soft voice. While being in treatment, she's had to understand her crime and her own personal weaknesses.
"I had a bad attitude when I came here. I didn't care about anything, and you couldn't tell me anything," she said. "There are things you do, that you don't realize are antisocial or anything. But when I came here they started pointing those things out to me, and that was hard at first."
Jordan has progressed, but still has plenty to work on. But while being at the juvenile detention facility, she's realized she has choices and goals for her life.
"Before I came here, I didn't have any goals," she said. "I was working as waitress in a restaurant, my mom was a waitress in a restaurant. I probably wasn't even going to finish high school. I like myself a lot more now."
Now she wants to pursue a cosmetology license and then eventually become a counselor, she said.
"I think I could help a lot of people," she said.
For Johnson, who has worked with troubled youth for nearly 24 years, giving kids a second chance is his motto.
"A lot of times kids get to come here to be kids," he said. "Some of them have never been to the movies before when the come here. ... We've just got to give them a chance to make positive choices."
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