S.H.I.F.T. didn't start off as a program.
It began because a few of us wanted a place where we could have real conversations.
Myself, Michael, and Mirza wanted somewhere that could, even for a little while, mimic what life on the outside might be like. A place where men could sit together and talk about philosophy, life, dreams, family, creating businesses, current events, or whatever topic someone believed was important. Purposeful conversations. We wanted a space where prison politics stayed outside the door and people could simply think, learn, and grow together.
In the beginning, people were wary. They weren't sure what we were trying to do or whether it would last. But little by little, more men started showing up. They listened, they contributed, and eventually they became part of building it.
That was the important part. It wasn't just ours. It became something all of us were building together, for one another.
Eventually, we started to create a curriculum around it, it would take the same shape regardless of who wanted to facilitate a discussion. Anyone could bring a topic they believed was important. Nobody stood at the front pretending to have all the answers. Every man had something to teach, and every man had something to learn.
The biggest thing people on the outside probably don't understand is what it cost to be there.
At the time, we only had about an hour and a half outside our cells each day. That time was everything. You had to shower, maybe work out, make phone calls home, catch up with people, or simply enjoy being out of your cell for a little while.
Yet every week, men willingly gave up an hour of that time to come to S.H.I.F.T.
Think about that.
We chose to give up some of the most valuable time we had because what we found in those conversations mattered.
At first, we met in the day room. It wasn't ideal. There were televisions, conversations, people walking through, and constant distractions. Sometimes it was frustrating because we were trying to have meaningful discussions while everything else around us was going on.
But we kept showing up.
Over time, people could see we were serious. We respected the discussions. We respected one another. Eventually, the staff noticed too.
They gave us access to a classroom, and having a dedicated space completely changed the atmosphere. It gave us somewhere we could focus, speak openly, and really engage with one another.
One of the topics we spent time talking about was communication.
We learned how to communicate with one another, but we also learned how to communicate with staff. We imagined that this was how we would need to communicate when we got back to the outside. We practised listening, expressing ourselves respectfully, disagreeing without conflict, and having difficult conversations in a productive way.
Looking back, we were preparing ourselves for life beyond prison without even realising it.
The time we spent in our S.H.I.F.T. class became a lot like the time we spent in visits.
It became a place where we could just be.
A place where we could breathe, think, grow, evolve, and honestly examine our lives.
For that hour, we weren't focused on prison politics or everything happening around us. We were focused on becoming better men. We challenged each other's thinking, shared our experiences, and took an honest look at the lives we had lived and the lives we hoped to live one day.
Somewhere along the way, something changed.
The conversations became more than conversations.
The group became more than a group.
Without anyone planning it, accountability started to grow. Leadership emerged. Education became important. Physical wellness became important. We began encouraging one another to set higher standards, not because anyone told us to. In fact, I would go so far as to say it often felt like they didn't really want us to do this. But we wanted it. We needed it.
Those values weren't as clear in the beginning. They were hidden in many of us. But because we gave each other the space, they began to grow, because we built them together.
That is what S.H.I.F.T. became.
It became a community.
When S.H.I.F.T. was eventually shut down, it left many of us asking questions.
We had built something positive. We were giving up our own time to learn, to talk, to support one another, and to prepare ourselves for life beyond prison. We weren't asking for anything except the opportunity to continue growing.
So when it ended, many of us struggled to understand why.
What good came from shutting it down?
How did taking away one of the few places where men were actively trying to grow help anyone?
Those questions stayed with us because we genuinely believed we were doing the very things rehabilitation is supposed to encourage.
For many of us, it led to an even harder question:
Do they really want us to change?
I don't know the answer to that.
What I do know is what S.H.I.F.T. gave us.
For one hour every week, it gave us a place that felt a little like the outside world. A place where we could think instead of react. A place where we could learn instead of survive. A place where we could be honest without fear. A place where we remembered that we were fathers, husbands, sons, brothers, friends, and human beings.
S.H.I.F.T. didn't change us because someone from the outside came in and told us how to change.
It changed us because we made the choice to invest in one another.
That's how S.H.I.F.T. began.
And that's why it still matters today.
Rudy