禁闭室里的芒果：在绝境中重塑意义与焦点
我在禁闭室里吃到了生平第一个芒果。有人把那种地方叫做“鞋子”（the shoe）、“箱子”（the box）、隔离审查区（Ad-Seg）或严管禁闭（lock up）。但无论你怎么称呼单独立案禁闭（Solitary Confinement: 彻底切断与外界及其他囚犯物理接触的极端监禁形式），谁也想不到那会是你第一次品尝芒果的地方。
那天午餐送来了一个椭圆形的水果，我当时以为那是一个苹果。那时我正自学杂耍抛接，以此来阻止自己发疯——我想象着，只要能让苹果漂浮在由我创造的轨道上，我就能掌控自己的苦难。当我咬进那个陌生而芳香四溢的水果时，汁水顺着我的指尖流淌下来。我贪婪地吃着，直到牙齿刮在芒果核上崩掉了一角。在狱中的那些岁月里，我再也没见过第二个芒果；而我是直到出狱回到母亲的厨房里，才终于知道了这种水果的名字。
在学会杂耍之前，那些送进来的近乎腐烂的苹果我连看都不看一眼就扔进垃圾桶。然而杂耍抛接却将这些苹果转变成了我的逃脱之路。那就是监狱教给我的第一课：你找什么，就会找到什么。谁会想到一个关于监狱的故事里居然会包含一只芒果？
1996年我被关进监狱时只有16岁，身高5英尺5英寸，体重仅125磅。我从二年级起就没打赢过任何一场架，一夜之间变成一个凶悍的拳击斗士对我来说完全不可能。正因如此，人们常问我是如何在那种残酷环境里活下来的。如果我说，我之所以能在监狱里存活下来，是因为我相信“你找什么，就会找到什么”，是因为我懂得了“注意到芒果”意味着什么——去全身心地拥抱出现奇迹的可能，哪怕你当时甚至叫不出那份奇迹的名字。
英文原文
I ate my first mango in a hole. What some called a shoe, the box, Ad-Seg, lock up. But no matter what you call solitary confinement, no one expects it to be where you eat your first mango. (Laughter) And me? I thought the oval-shaped fruit that came with lunch that day was an apple. I've been teaching myself to juggle, to keep from losing my mind. Imagining that I could manage my troubles if I could float apples into an orbit of my creation. When I sank my teeth into the unfamiliar, fragrant fruit, juices ran down my fingertips. I ate until I chipped a tooth, scraping it along the mango seed. I never saw another mango in prison. And I only learned the name of the fruit when I was home and in my mother's kitchen. Before I started juggling, I trashed the mostly rotten apples without a second glance. Then juggling transformed the apples into my way of escape. That's how prison taught me that you find what you look for. Who would expect to hear a story about prison that includes a mango? I got locked up in 1996. I was 16 years old, five-foot-five and 125 pounds. I hadn't won a fight since the second grade. (Laughter) Becoming a brawler overnight wasn't in the cards for me. That's why people often ask me how I survived. What if I say, I survived prison because I believed you find what you look for. Because of what it means to notice the mango. To commit yourself to the possibility of a miracle, even without a name for the wonder.
绝望熔炉中的认知觉醒与尊严连结
在建立起这种探寻可能性的心理支点后，外在的判决反而成为了重构自我的契机。我其实应该感谢当年的主审法官。在我承认了劫车罪后，他判处我九年监禁。那时我坚信自己能回家，一直在等他开口告诉我这全是一场噩梦。随后他证实了我的直觉：“我不抱任何幻想，觉得把你送进劳役监禁所有任何帮助。”你知道英语中最残忍的词是什么吗？是连词“但是”（but）。法官接着说道：“但是，你可以去到那里，把日子过到最好，也可以过到最糟。”
我领会了法官的意思：我可以选择在那些牢房里去寻找什么。成为一名计算机工程师在当时已是毫无可能，在狱中获得大学学位同样渺茫。但正是因为法官的那番话，我不再只聚焦于自己即将失去什么。16岁的我，开始在心里勾勒出狱后自己要成为什么样的人。我从小就酷爱读书，于是在宣判的那一天，我告诉自己：我要成为一名作家。
在监狱这个残酷的炼狱熔炉中，我学会了真正去“看见”他人。我记得一位名叫Star的狱友。我们曾在紧邻的禁闭室里共度了数月时光。我们都痴迷于追忆往事，也同样沉浸在诸如《魔戒》（The Lord of the Rings）这类奇幻小说中——那些书籍让我们得以将自己想象成主动选择成为英雄而非恶棍的人。Star是一名拳击手，而我不是。他把自己所知道的一切倾囊相授：如何训练、如何调整呼吸、以及如何不让挫败感和纪律的匮乏演变成一种让你付出无法承受代价的祸端。
他并非个例。我还记得Mike G.。有一天他问我：“如果你在麦当劳滑倒并摔断了腿，而当时他们立着一块‘小心地滑’的警示牌，你还能起诉吗？”我脱口而出：“当然能起诉。”我们为此争辩不休，我坚信自己是对的。一个小时后，他看着我说：“你知道你是错的。”随后他向我展示了一本封面泛黄的旧书中的一页，书名写着侵权法（Torts: 规定因侵权行为导致人身或财产损害赔偿责任的法律学科）。究竟有谁会问一个自己早就知道答案的问题，然后还跟你争论整整一个小时？我右肩上的恶魔当时挑唆我说：“动手揍他。”但请记住，我从二年级起就没打赢过架。所以我没有动手，而是从他的储物柜里随手抽出一本破旧的《监狱法律新闻》（Prison Legal News），里面一则关于律师助理培训课程的广告瞬间吸引了我的注意。我的母亲出钱帮我报了名。我当时并不奢望成为律师，我只是不想成为任何人的傻瓜。
然而，我差点没能把这门课念完。那时我被关押在萨塞克斯一号州立监狱（Sussex I State Prison），牢房区地上画着一道道绝不允许越过的黄色警戒线。但我偏偏是一个永远在越线的人——我会为了借邮票、为了跟朋友打声招呼、为了借粮食或送食物给别人而越线。有一天，我为了拿到一本书跨过了那条黄线。在监狱里，一本新书是极其罕见的珍宝。“贝茨，我受够了你践踏我的规矩越线。这次你得滚回禁闭室了，”副狱长在给我戴上手铐前厉声说道。
在二层监房的Luke目睹了整套过程。在日常生活中，我和他总共也没说过十几句话，但当狱警打开他的牢门时，他把自己的所有个人物品一把推到了牢房门外，大喊道：“如果沙阿（Shah）去禁闭室，那我也去禁闭室！”其他囚犯也开始疯狂敲砸各自的牢房门，齐声抗议，要求一同被关进单人禁闭室。这简直是又一场奇迹：那天我最终没有被关进禁闭室。Luke仅仅是在我们一起打篮球的零碎时间里认识了我，但这就足以让他看见我的价值，认定我不该被囚禁在孤立的深渊里。甚至在那一刻我想，我也正不断找寻到自己所寻找的人性光亮。
英文原文
I should thank my judge. After I pleaded guilty to carjacking, and he sentenced me to nine years in prison, I was certain that I was going home. I waited for him to tell me it was all a dream. Then he confirmed my intuition. “I don’t have any illusion[s] that sending you to the penitentiary is going to help." Do you know what the cruelest word in the English language is? The preposition "but." The judge said, "But you can go down there and you can make the best of it or not." I figured the judge was saying that I could choose what I looked for in those cells. Becoming a computer engineer was now out of the question. Earning a college degree from prison was just as unlikely. But because of what the judge said, I thought not only of what I would lose. I was 16 years old, planning who I would be when I left. I've loved books since I was a kid. And so on my sentencing day, I told myself that I would be a writer. In a crucible that is prison, I learned to see other people. I remember Star. We spent months in adjacent cells in a hole. We were both obsessed with stories of our past and with fantasy novels like "Lord of the Rings," books that let us imagine ourselves as people who chose to be heroes instead of villains. He was a boxer. I wasn't. Star taught me what he knew, how to train, how to breathe, how not to let frustration and a lack of discipline turn into something that ends up costing you far more than you can afford to lose. He was not the only one. I remember Mike G. One day he asked, "If you slipped at McDonald's and broke your leg, and they had one of those 'wet floor' signs up, could you sue?" Of course I could sue. We argued. I knew I was right. An hour later he says, "You know you're wrong." And then he shows me a page in a faded yellow book with the word "Torts" on the cover. Who asks a question they know the answer to, and then argues about it for an hour? (Laughter) The devil on my right shoulder said "Swing." Now remember, I hadn’t won a fight since the second grade. So instead, I picked up a tattered issue of prison legal news from his locker [and] an ad for a paralegal course caught my eye. My mom paid for the classes. I didn't want to be a lawyer. I just didn't want to be anybody's fool. I almost didn't finish the class. You see, I was at Sussex I State Prison, and they had these lines, these yellow lines that you cannot cross. But I was a perpetual line crosser. I would cross lines to get stamps, to say hello to friends, to borrow food, to give people food. One day, I crossed the yellow line to get a book. A new book is a rare occurrence in prison. "Betts, I'm so tired of you stepping over my lines. This time you're going back to the hole," the lieutenant said before he cuffed me. From the second tier, Luke saw it all. We hadn't exchanged more than a dozen words in his life, but when they opened his cell door, he pushed all his property out of his cell and said, "If Shah go to the hole, I go to the hole." Others began banging on their cell doors, also demanding to go to solitary confinement. It was another miracle. I didn't go to the hole that day. Luke only knew me from the times we hooped together, but that was enough for him to see me as worthy of more than a cell. Even then, I guess I was finding what I was looking for.
从狱中辩护到耶鲁法学：救赎之链的律法延伸
带着狱中积淀的执念，我终于迎来了走出铁窗的时刻。2005年3月4日，我正式刑满释放。在4月1日之前，我就尝试去马里兰大学申请入学；那时我甚至连大学“学期”（semester）这个词的含义都一无所知。当我向一位和蔼的招生顾问坦白自己刚刑满释放出狱时，他建议我先去社区大学。我便在社区大学找到了庇护所，并以此为跳板。自那之后，我获取大学学位的速度就像当年背负重罪指控一样迅猛：我先后拿下了副学士学位（AA）、学士学位（BA）和艺术硕士学位（MFA）。在我年满30岁之前，我就已经出版了一部回忆录和一本诗集。
然而现实依然冰冷：我甚至连一份教职面试都争取不到。那时的我33岁，带着两个年幼的儿子、沉重的重罪前科，处于失业状态。但我曾经是一名狱中法律援助者（Jailhouse Lawyer: 指在服刑期间自学法律并为其他服刑人员提供法律文书与申诉协助的囚犯）。曾经只要一包金枪鱼罐头、一盒饼干和几包拉面，我就能通过申诉为狱友减去五年的刑期。于是，我下定决心攻读法学院。
一年后，我拿到了录取通知书，录取我的顶尖法学院数量甚至赶上了我曾服刑过的监狱总数：哈佛大学、耶鲁大学、宾夕法尼亚大学、乔治城大学和密歇根大学。我选择进入耶鲁法学院，最初的理想是成为一名公设辩护人。但在公设辩护人办公室实习期间，我内心实在无法忍受看着那些年轻的当事人被铁锁深锁。他们当中的每一个人，都会让我不可遏制地联想起狱中那些背负着天文数字般刑期的朋友们——那些被称为橄榄球号码刑期（Football Numbers: 俚语，指如球衣号码般庞大的漫长刑期，如30年、40年、50年乃至终身监禁）。
后来，曾与我一同服刑的Juvie向我求助，希望我能帮他重获自由。我开始作为代理人奔走为狱中的好友辩护，经历了一次又一次挫败、失败与碰壁。直到后来，Luke找到了我。自出狱以来，我已经整整20年没有与他联络过。我陪同他失明的母亲走进了假释委员会的听证会现场，挽着她的手臂，如同我自己就是她的亲生儿子一般。最终，Luke获得了假释。紧接着是Keith，然后是Fettes，再后来是Juvie、Tyrell，我还成功帮助Dempsey重获自由。六个在少年时期就被打入死牢深渊的男人，全部重见天日。而这一切的起点，不过是当年在我前途未卜、母子二人都不确定我是否能活着走出监狱的黑暗岁月里，母亲节衣缩食为我报名的那门律师助理函授课程。
英文原文
Now I left prison on March 4, 2005. Before April 1, I tried to enroll at the University of Maryland. I didn't even know what the word semester meant. When I told this kind counselor that I had just come home from prison, he suggested community college. I took refuge there. Then I started picking up college degrees like felonies. (Laughter) I had an AA, a BA, an MFA. I published a memoir and a collection of poetry before I turned 30 years old. (Applause) But I couldn't even get an interview for a teaching gig. I was 33. I had two small sons [and] a felony record. I was unemployed. But I was once a jailhouse lawyer. And for a pack of tuna, a box of crackers and ramen noodles, I got five years off somebody's prison sentence. (Applause) I decided to go to law school. A year later, I [had] been admitted to as many law schools as prisons where I served time: Harvard, Yale, the University of Pennsylvania, Georgetown, Michigan. I went to Yale wanting to be a public defender, but I was working in a public defender's office, and I couldn't stomach my young clients being locked up. Every one of them reminded me of friends in prison doing football numbers: 30, 40, 50 years, life. Then Juvie asked me to help him get out. I started representing my friends, failing and failing and failing again. Then Luke found me. I hadn't talked to him in 20 years. I walked into the parole board with his blind mother on my arm as if I were her son. He made parole. Then Keith did, and then Fettes, then Juvie, and then Tyrell, and I got Dempsey out, too. Six men, all sent to prison as teenagers. All out because my mom spent money for me to take a paralegal course in the middle of a prison sentence that neither one of us knew if I would survive.
自由图书馆运动：让可能性的火种重返高墙
将挚友们从漫长刑期中解救出来后，我逐渐意识到个体的诉讼救济无法填补制度性的匮乏。我是在3月4日出狱的，这是日历上唯一一个同时代表着前进行动指令的日期（March 4th 谐音 March Forth: 意为“奋勇向前”），它像是在告诫我，必须大步流星地迈向外面的世界，把监狱里的一切抛诸脑后。然而，我却发现自己一次又一次地折返回去——为了老友，为了当事人，为了向服刑者朗诵诗歌。
曾有人问我：“如果不考虑资金限制，你会为监狱里的人做些什么？”我回答说：“我们把数以百万计的人关进了监狱，那我就要把数以百万计的书籍送进高墙之内。”当对方追问我打算如何实现时，我说：“一次建立一座图书馆。”
在2020年，这还仅仅停留在构想阶段；而仅仅一年多之后，我们在马萨诸塞州惩教所（MCI Norfolk）一间被彻底清空的废弃牢房里建成了首座自由图书馆（Freedom Library: 设立在监狱监区内部、旨在让服刑人员无需复杂申请即可自由取阅精选典籍的微型开放式图书馆）。那是马尔科姆·X（Malcolm X: 美国著名非裔人权运动领袖）当年服刑并自学重塑思想的地方。我们的第二座图书馆则设立在路易斯安那州的安哥拉州立监狱。我们将自由图书馆直接安置在监区走廊上，让里面的男人们能够迈出脚步——不，是让所有服刑的男性、女性和孩子都能从逼仄的铁架床铺上走下来，伸手触碰一本书，让那本书成为他们探寻自由历程的全新起点。
如今，我们已经创建了超过600座自由图书馆，把我年轻时梦寐以求的书籍送到了无数高墙内之人的手中。我们收到的反馈常常让我潸然泪下。正如Hillary——第一批在狱中抚摸到自由图书馆书籍的女性服刑人员之一所写道的那样：“木材的气味与新书的芬芳，瞬间将我带离了这个地方。我已经被监禁了20年，正在服无期徒刑。我热爱书籍，自幼就是个狂热的读者。”
Hillary的话常常让我审视自己。三十年前我踏进监狱的那天，我的年纪几乎就和我现在刚满14岁的儿子差不多大；而我的长子今年18岁，正在挑选自己心仪的大学。我之所以能成为今天的父亲，正是源于当年在那些漆黑牢房里找到的信念。很久以前我就领悟到，你之所以能找到自己所寻找的东西，是因为始终有人坚信你在苦苦求索。
如今，我重新走回那些高墙与铁丝网之内，带去的正是如同当年我在禁闭室里捡到的那只芒果一样不可思议的奇迹。Luke和Tyrell如今都和我一起回到监狱，携手揭幕一座座自由图书馆。当年那些教会我如何死守希望的人，如今正站在高墙之内，不动声色、不求闻达地将希望的火种递给更多的人——一次递出一本书。
英文原文
I left prison on March 4, the only date that is also a command, advising me to march forth out in the world and leave everything about prison behind. (Applause) But I found myself returning again and again. For friends, for clients, to read poems. So when someone asked, "What would you do for people in prison if money wasn't an issue?" I said, “We put millions of people in prison. I will put millions of books inside.” When she asked me how, I said, "One library at a time." In 2020, it was all a dream. A little over a year later, we opened our first Freedom Library in a gutted cell in MCI, Norfolk. A prison where Malcolm X served time. Our second was in Louisiana's Angola State Prison. We put freedom libraries on a cell block so that men can step away -- No, so that men, women and children can step away from their bunks and reach for a book that will be the start of the freedom they look for. We've opened more than 600 Freedom Libraries, putting books I once dreamed of reading into the hands of others. What we've heard often makes me weep. Like when Hillary, one of the first women in prison to touch a Freedom Library, wrote, "The smell of wood and the smell of a new book takes me right out of this place. I have been incarcerated for 20 years, and I’m doing life. I love books and I'm an avid reader. I have been since I was a little girl." Hillary makes me think about myself. 30 years ago, I walked into a prison barely older than my 14-year-old son. My 18-year-old is choosing a college. I am the father I am because of what I found in those prison cells. Long ago, I found out that you [find] what you look for because there is always someone who believes that you'll be searching. These days, I've returned to prisons with something as improbable as the mango I once found in solitary confinement. Luke and Tyrell have both returned to open Freedom Libraries with me. The men who taught me how to hold on to hope are now handing it out to others. Unnamed, unannounced, one book at a time. Thank you. (Cheers and applause)