The Girl Who Always Smiles – Interview by Michael Clark
I first met Janine three years ago amid COVID protocol, when CGA was hosting classes virtually. Her reputation was well known among CGA alumni for serving as a board member and for having recently become a published poet through the Poetry Foundation with her poem, “Forgotten Portraits.” It was not until several months after the COVID-19 protocol had relaxed that we met in person for a running event, where several Common Good alumni and professors were participating. Anyone who meets Janine, without knowing her past, would be as surprised by the fact that she was incarcerated as by how she never let that part of her life irreparably change her. To the contrary, since we’ve known each other, there has not been a time when she walked into a room without a smile and a genuine appreciation for the present moment.
As great as the setback of incarceration can be, there are iconic moments we all dream of while away from home. Key life moments like your first home-made meal, your first date, your first job, and getting married, the list goes on indefinitely. Events that are seen by the masses as commonplace, but for the Incarcerated are beacons of hope for a future day. This year marked such a pivotal moment in Janine’s family’s story. At the beginning of this year, Janine and Tony welcomed their baby boy, Lu, into the world. Born a few months after their second anniversary, he has been nothing but a dream come true for their family. Even among our Common Good community, there was a heightened sense of joy that came with this news, as only those who had been through our travails could understand.
There was a small franchise restaurant in Snellville where we met, called Miller’s Ale House. It was the quintessential Georgia summer day, where cicadas sang from the trees, announcing that summer was in full swing. Heat from the cars waved to people passing by. The other customers were typical of a small-town Sunday crowd: women wore sundresses, and men wore jeans with a UGA hat. Janine got there a bit before me and was already sitting at our table in a side room when I arrived. This time, as always in the past, I was met with her signature smile and a heartfelt hug. She has always had a radiant grace that stands defiantly against any of her past pain, trauma, or scars. A grace that you can see in her smile and feel in her presence.
What did you do when you first got home?
I got home six years ago in October. My boyfriend, now my husband, Tony, came to pick me up with his daughter, Hailey. Tony asked if I wanted anything specific to eat, but I didn’t have anything in mind. I was so nervous being out that I didn’t even really think about it at the time. Tony ended up taking us to Steak and Shake. He figured a shake would be a nice welcome-home touch and maybe help calm my nerves!
It was weird because I wasn’t accustomed to going out in public and ordering things. I had this feeling of walking on eggshells for a while, even after I got off probation. It felt like I was either not supposed to be out or that something was going to happen, and I was going to go back.
How long did it take for you to feel adjusted to being back home?
It took several years. It all happened in steps, you know. I’d say it took a year after being out before I lost that terror of getting pulled back in for some reason. Not that I was doing anything illegal, it was this weird feeling of fear that just stayed with me.
The next phase, if you will, was losing the anxiety around being in the outside world. That took me about five years to get to. The big thing for me and the outside world was driving. I live in Atlanta, so you know how bad it gets out there. That was terrifying, getting on the roads for the first time and driving to work. Atlanta drivers are the worst, I swear!
`This phase was also when I could finally accept that I was not going back. That is probably the biggest step we can take, in my opinion, because that is when you finally feel safe and, like, you aren’t walking on eggshells anymore. This also coincides with losing the fear of someone, like the cops, looking for you. It’s so irrational, because I know I’m not doing anything wrong, but I still had that fear.
I remember when I first got out, I couldn’t help but always talk about prison. I just got out, and for four years, that was all I knew. All my recent memories were from prison—such a weird thing to say now. A lot of this shift in mindset happened because I had enough memories from being home that I wasn’t stuck in this “back in prison” narrative whenever I spoke. It literally comes down to making more memories that you can talk about with others.
Is there one thing you wanted to do while incarcerated that you were able to do when you came home?
Getting my degree from college was always a big goal of mine. I have not finished my degree yet, but it is still something I want to get down the road when things slow down. With all the stuff at work and my new baby boy, it’s hard to make time or even afford school right now.
The other thing I wanted to accomplish, which may sound weird, is being able to run outside. I never ran before I went to prison. I only started while I was incarcerated, oddly enough. My whole dream, if you will, was to run outside and have the entire sensory experience. I don’t run with earphones as is, because I’m a woman, and you know, I gotta be aware of my surroundings. Even still, I wanted to see everything, hear all the sounds, and feel it all at once. I had that moment when we were running at Stone Mountain a while ago. There is a bend at the bottom of the mountain. When you come around the corner, you see the lake through the trees. The sun was shining down on it, too. That was the moment I felt it, like “I am free”.
How did you come to join Common Good?
I heard about them when I was at Whitworth prison. There was a girl I knew; her name was KP. She was a teacher’s assistant, and she knew I was always trying to get into school, classes, and whatnot—anything related to higher education. I had thought about college correspondence, but it was not a viable option. It’s too much to coordinate everything. You have to get the school to accept you. Then you have to get the material and do the assignments. Then get them sent out on time. If you get moved or put on lockdown, then everything stops, so it kind of kills the whole thing at that time.
One day, KP called me over to the fence and told me about Common Good. She didn’t have much information, but said she could get me in. I said, of course, then kind of forgot about it until they called me out of the dorm one day a few weeks later.
If I recall, both Bill Taft and Dr. H were tracking the class. It was a literature class, and we went over King Lear that semester. It was the first time I did not feel nervous walking into a new “thing” like in other parts of prison. It was also the first aspect of prison where I truly felt a sense of hope. I was involved in activities like Kairos and work details that got me out of the dorm and kept me busy. Some of it was meaningful, while some of it was not. Common Good had a different energy from these places. It didn’t matter what religion you believed in, what charge you had, or what level of education you had. We all walked in as equals, and no one judged us for anything.
What were some obstacles you faced when you came home (social, financial, legal, etc)?
Obviously, the big one is how do you find the necessities. Honestly, my biggest blessing was my husband, Tony. When I came home, he let me move in with him and told me I did not have to worry about finding a home, or finding food, or anything like that. I also had a lot of support from my family. My sister Leah would always buy me food and bring me stuff she knew I needed without me ever asking. My mother was also a blessing to me beyond words. She passed three months after I came home. It was tough because I wanted to spend more time with her, but I was incredibly fortunate to have seen her. In the will, I inherited a car through both her and my sister, and that is the car I am still driving.
There are other things I still struggle with. All the adulting stuff! It’s things you don’t think about when you are young, and don’t think about in prison. Things like taxes, applying for a credit card, and budgeting, you know. For instance, I just got my first credit card last year. You get humbled when you realize what all you don’t know about these adult matters, especially at our age.
What is one thing you learned while in prison that helped you grow?
Not to trust people. I hate to say that because I am a naturally caring person. That is one of the biggest things prison taught me. It always comes back to haunt you, always. You reach a point where people must show their true selves to earn trust. You can love and respect people without putting yourself in a bad position. That is the difference. I learned to listen to my intuition. It teaches you not to be naive if nothing else. You go through it enough times and it will toughen you up, for sure.
Have you found a sense of purpose since coming home?
I have. I don’t feel lost anymore. My purpose is to continue growing and helping others. When I was young, before I went to prison, it was different. A lot of my identity was tied to the partner I was with and their identity. Now, I have my footing, and I am not wrapped up in someone else’s identity.
Even in the small things, like at work, I find this purpose. It’s a great feeling when I help someone find a supplement that helps with whatever ailment, and they come back and thank me. That is the sense of purpose I mean. I even have customers come back who will only work with me! They will ask, “Where is the girl who is always smiling?” That is the purpose I want. I want to create a positive ripple that makes you feel the energy shift in a good way with the people I interact with on a daily basis. The goal is not so much about getting recognition, but rather the merit of knowing you helped someone in a meaningful way.
