Albert Wright, Lead Facilitator
I arrived at the Oregon State Penitentiary in November 2020, alone and scared. I didn’t know what to expect. I was broken and numb. However, externally, I put on a different mask to ensure that my safety and security would be met, particularly since I am a sex offender. I didn’t believe I deserved to live – my life was worthless…I was worthless and I should be put down; this would save so much heartache, pain, and trouble. I’d caused enough; why put them (or others) through more. Yet, I continued moving forward and ended up meeting a few individuals involved in something called Nonviolent Communication (NVC). At first, I didn’t know what NVC was about but as I sat in on meetings to restart the program up here at OSP, I became convinced this was something I wanted to be a part of and gently pushed my way into it. I became part of the group of Adults-in-Custody (AIC) who came together to hold the first class after COVID-19 had shut it down. While I’ve experienced many different forms of education and training, I wasn’t prepared for what I would go through in NVC.
I recall sitting in the first class believing I knew what to expect. Afterall, I was part of the team that resurrected NVC. As we started, I felt the uncertainty of the participants and facilitators – all AICs. It was jerky. The dialogue was hesitating. Every group within OSP was represented and the awkwardness was visible. The facilitators began talking about feelings and needs, how society viewed these words, and this program was designed to help us become connected – self-aware – of these feeling and needs within us. We were going to develop empathy.
“Oh boy,” I thought. I remembered my ex-wife saying something to me about this very word – “You don’t know what empathy or sympathy are.” My response, “Yes, I do. Now, let’s move on.” I guess I didn’t know what empathy necessarily was.
These thoughts rolled through my mind over and over again. But, we gained momentum as we completed the first hour. By the end of the second hour I knew I was in the right space, that I needed this so I could grow. And did I ever grow. While there were frustrating moments during the first part of the program I developed a sense of belonging to this group and continued my journey into what we term NVC Advanced where we share our most challenging, painful, and/or traumatic event in our lives. This I wasn’t exactly prepared for.
The first class for NVC Advanced we signed up for a slot in which to share. I wanted to get it over and done with. I had looked around the room and knew I had the worse story to tell, that I was the worst individual in the room, and I didn’t deserve to be here. I signed up…the date was set.
I recall moments the first time I told my story within the walls of the Oregon State Penitentiary. Tons of feelings rose up within – nervousness, afraid, embarrassed, and fearful to name a few. Needs of belonging, safety, security, community, and acceptance were not being met. Yet, I persevered and told of why I was in prison. Everyone sat there and listened. One of the facilitators asked questions that I didn’t want to answer; questions like, “What do you think your victim was feeling and needing?” or “What feelings did I have and what needs were you trying to meet?” I didn’t want to respond. I didn’t want to think about any of it, to relive those moments over again. I responded but don’t remember exactly what I said. In fact, the only I remember was feeling relieved of being done and being numb for the next few days.
Since that first time taking NVC in 2022, I have continued to participate in the program becoming the lead facilitator in 2026 as the previous individual took a sabbatical. I continue to grow, learning what empathy is and how to communicate my feelings and needs. I have become more aware of how I ended up where I am today and where I want to go in the future. NVC has helped me in my path of becoming a better human being.
