Ranadivé: Folsom Prison visit revealed ‘fine line’ separating us from the incarcerated

Entering a new decade, I find myself reflecting on my life journey to date. This country has given me opportunities and taken me places I could never have imagined – studying at the world’s best institutions like MIT and Harvard, founding and building a multibillion-dollar company and taking it public on NASDAQ, meeting with world leaders such as Nelson Mandela in Davos, buying a professional basketball team and pioneering the first-ever NBA games in my hometown of Bombay.

But as memorable as these experiences have been, my recent visit to Folsom State Prison hit me in the gut in a way I have rarely felt before. In partnership with the REPRESENT JUSTICE Campaign, launched alongside the film Just Mercy which depicts the true story of Walter McMillian’s wrongful conviction and death sentence, NBA teams are shining a light on the issues facing incarcerated people in communities around the country. It’s called “Play for Justice,” and the Sacramento Kings were the first team to participate.

Our journey to Folsom started outside of the Sawyer Hotel. Our instructions specifically stated that we had to wear all black to maintain a clear distinction between visitors and those inside. As we piled into the bus, none of us knew what to expect.

Once we reached the town of Folsom I was struck by what an idyllic place it is – complete with picket fences. Heading out of town, we turned left and found ourselves in an entirely different environment – medieval-looking structures. Before entering the prison, we were informed that the prison has a “no hostage exchange policy.”

Folsom opened in 1880 with a capacity of 2,400 and is the second oldest prison in the state, after San Quentin. Once we passed security and multiple huge iron gates, we walked through one of the original buildings where 140 years of captivity, fear and hopelessness hung in the air.

I walked past the tiny cells with Kings forward Trevor Ariza and he pointed out that some of the men were bigger than him and couldn’t even stand up. The men – two to a cramped cell that looked like a cage – stared at us with hollow eyes. I know there are victims on the other side of the equation, but seeing men in such conditions is something I will never forget.

We walked outside and into a neat structure that was sparse but immaculate. In the prison’s chapel, we joined a circle of currently and formerly incarcerated individuals. As they shared their stories, each person spoke with honesty and integrity – more than I encounter in daily life. Among those currently incarcerated wearing prison-issued blue shirts, or the “men in blue,” there were no excuses. Each took complete responsibility for their actions and – even when the hope of leaving prison was slim – worked hard every day to better themselves.

As we were wrapping up, Sacramento City Councilmember Steve Hansen asked what advice they would give their younger selves. The resounding answer: “Find a role model.”

After the conversation, we played basketball. While it would be easy to see only monsters who had committed horrible crimes, it was hard to not feel our shared humanity. The majority of the people we met had committed one or multiple murders, yet we felt safe. They felt remorse. They had hopes and aspirations of one day contributing to society. They were fathers and brothers, they were patriots who cheered wildly for the national anthem and, as we all watched the game, we were all basketball fans.

Gratitude often finds us in the places we least expect it. The visit opened my eyes to the reality that there is a very fine line that separates us from those behind bars. Everyone has a choice in how to live their life, and these people had made bad choices – but what if that was me? No parents at the age of 7, inducted into a gang and the only rules I knew were those of the street?

When the “men in blue” do leave prison, they face tremendous obstacles re-entering society – from finding a job to reuniting with loved ones. Great cities understand that it’s on all of us to ensure the entire community, including those incarcerated, are hopeful about our shared future. While recidivism rates in California have hovered around 50 percent over the past decade, our communities and institutions have a shared responsibility to give those leaving prison the tools they need to feel empowered to achieve their goals and a second chance to succeed.

My interest in visiting the prison was part of the Kings’ efforts to use our platform for good. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “Life’s most persistent and urgent question is: What are you doing for others?”

I’d urge other teams to embrace that same philosophy by getting to know the diverse people who make up the fabric of their communities.

This story was originally published January 3, 2020 at 5:00 AM.