University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

Skin deep: former inmates struggle to build new identities in a post-prison world

(USC Thesis Other)

Skin deep: former inmates struggle to build new identities in a post-prison world

PDF

Download a page range

Download transcript

Copy asset link

Request this asset

Transcript (if available)

Content UNIVERSITY
OF
SOUTHERN
CALIFORNIA

Skin Deep
Former Inmates Struggle to Build New Identities
in a Post-Prison World

By

Gabrielle
Canon

A
Thesis
Presented
to
the

FACULTY
OF
THE
USC
GRADUATE
SCHOOL

UNIVERSITY
OF
SOUTHERN
CALIFORNIA

In
Partial
Fulfillment
of
the

Requirements
for
the
Degree

MASTER
OF
ARTS

(SPECIALIZED
JOURNALISM)

Acknowledgements

Thank you to my Committee Chair Michael Parks for not only teaching me how to be a better journalist but
inspiring me to rise to the challenge. Also a big thanks to my other committee members, Ian Shive and Thomas
Ward for their time and insights. Lastly, thanks to my mother Kate Wilber for her endless support and
proofreading skills.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements 1

Abstract 3

Skin Deep 4

References 18
Abstract

Photographer Steven Burton photographed six former gang members who are participating in
Homeboy Industry’s program and digitally removed their tattoos to illustrate the impact tattoos have
on perception and identity. After they viewed the photos for the first time first-person interviews
were conducted about their reaction, their lives, and the role they think their tattoos play as they are
attempting to leave behind their gang identities. This thesis reflects their sentiments and pairs them
with research and information on the actual tattoo removal process and evaluates the tattoo removal
program offered through the Los Angeles Sheriffs Department.

Using research studies and interviews with a doctor who specializes in tattoo removal and two
officers from the Los Angeles Sheriffs Department Education Based Incarceration Program this
piece seeks to illustrate the importance of tattoo removal and the issues needed to overcome in the
system to make programs and solutions more widely available to inmates and former gang members
who are unable to move forward because their tattoos identify them in a negative way.

Skin Deep: Former Inmates Struggle to Build New Identities in a Post-Prison World

A train rumbles by, shattering the silence in the upstairs break room at Homeboy
Industries. Francisco Flores gazes at a picture of himself and starts to laugh. He shakes his head
and, after a long pause, mutters a simple “wow.” This is the first time he has seen himself without
tattoos since he was 13 years old (Flores 2013).

Now 29, Flores works in the bakery at Homeboy Industries – a nonprofit organization
that provides resources to help former inmates rebuild their lives. Fading tattoos cover his head,
face, neck, and hands, providing a stark contrast to his bright eyes and a quick smile. The photos
he holds depict this divide. In one he is tattooed and glaring—an image that instantly ignites fear
and sends chills down the spine. In the other he beams, his skin clean.

“Man,” he begins, “this looks like a mug shot. In all reality, you look at it, and I look like
I am in jail again.” Lifting the other photo, he says, “And on this one – I look happy. I look like I
finally let go of a lot of shit that I had on me. It’s crazy”.

Flores is one of six former gang members who posed for photographer Steven Burton as
part of a project to illustrate how powerfully tattoos define a person’s image. Burton then
retouched the photos of each participant, digitally removing the tattoos, and offered each a chance
to see himself without them (Burton 2013). The six men were given the opportunity to instantly
see themselves as different people, which often brought up emotional questions about identity,

the past, and the future.

Like Flores, Mario Lundes, Marcus Luna, Eddie, and brothers Christian and Francisco
Rivera started this journey into gang life at an early age. By their teens, they had enlisted in gangs
and cultivated images to match their lifestyles. The tattoos that now cover their bodies tell the
stories of the tragedies they lived, the violence they endured, the crimes they committed, and the
anger and loss that defined their adolescence (Flores, Lundes, Luna, Rivera 2013).

As gang members they serve as identifiers and are often indicative of the neighborhood
or gang a person hails from. Many have the LA symbol from the LA Dodgers on their heads and

necks showing affiliation with Los Angeles, or three dots in a triangle to represent “my crazy
life.” Some tattoos are sentimental, depicting significant personal messages such as gravestones
marking years spent behind bars, reflections of demons and death, or commemorations of friends
and family killed in gang warfare (Hyslop 2013). The tattoos that once served to signify a gang
member’s loyalty, or to strike fear in his enemies, are still indicators to the outside world –and
they come with steep consequences.

“You don’t know how I get treated with the cops out there,” Mario Lundes says,
reflecting on his tattoos. He describes being pulled over often and the constant concern that he
will be shot and killed by police who approach his car with guns drawn because they see gang
symbols scrawled across his face (Ludes 2013).

Those with visible tattoos also experience continued threats from gang members who see
their tattoos as a sign that the affiliations they are trying to leave behind are still alive. “I might be
changing my life,” Francisco Rivera explains, “but the next man might see me and be like, ‘Fuck
that. I don’t believe that shit.’ And he could take my life away.”

The biggest threat, however, is one felt everyday. It comes in the form of social rejection.
It comes in stares by passersby. It comes in unreturned calls after job interviews and a personal
reminder that the internal change will not be seen by society but the tattoos will.

“My record is a mistake I made in the past, and I paid for it with prison,” Francisco

Flores says. “Everything they could say about me after I got out of prison is—well, they can’t say
nothing bad. I have been doing everything I am supposed to do. I take care of my family, I pay

my mortgage. I pay car bills. I am taking care of what I have to take care of but people just see
me as that hoodlum. The guy with the tattoos.” He looks at the tattoo-less photo and adds,
“Hopefully someday I get to look like that.”

To actually remove the tattoos, however, Flores must undergo a long and painful
treatment process. Tattoos are made permanent when pigment or ink is injected into the dermal,
or lower layer of the skin. To remove the ink, lasers are used to shoot pulses of intense light that
6

cause the pigment to fragment into small particles. These particles are then absorbed into the
body and dealt with by the patient’s immune system (Hyslop 2013).

Though there is little risk of damage to the skin, participants say going under the laser is
excruciating. Some likened it to the feeling of someone repeatedly scratching a deep sunburn.
Those in the Homeboy Industries tattoo removal program have described tattoo removal as the
most painful thing they have ever endured – even more so than the wounds they received in gang
fights. It is a quick procedure but, in order to see results, patients must repeat the process several
times. For those like Flores, who has already gone under the laser a total of 45 times, changing
their image requires dedication and commitment. “I have had 26 treatments on my face itself,” he
says. “It takes a long time.”

It will be worth it if they all come off because he believes his kids will be able to see him
differently. “I don’t want them to grow up with the same environment I grew up in. With the gang
violence and seeing me in and out of prison and seeing me as ‘Oh, my dad, the one with the
tattoos.’ I don’t want that. I want them to know me as ‘Oh, my dad, the one that is there for us all
the time. The one that people don’t judge and who is accepted everywhere he goes.”

Flores says he does not want his tattoos to define his future because they tell the story of
his past. “My dad was a crack head,” he says. “My mom, her addiction was men. My dad didn’t
have money to pay for the dope, and my mom would pay for it with her body.” His parents would
often banish him and his two brothers from the house in the middle of the night when they were
getting high. Instead of encouragement at home Flores was told he would never amount to
anything (Flores 2013).

One night, at the age of six, a neighbor’s intervention nearly changed his life. Carlos,

who was only 16 himself, took young Flores into his home and under his wing. “I took a loving to
this guy because he was there for me regardless,” Flores said. “It would be the middle of the
night, and he would let me sleep in his house. I felt like I was his son. He told me good stuff.

How to keep in school, stay away from drugs, stay away from gangs, and all this things.”
7

But it was a short-lived bond. Flores remembers clearly the day it ended in East Los
Angeles. Carlos was walking him home from school. A man approached them and demanded,
“Where you from?” The question is commonly used by gang members to identify friend or foe.
Carlos ignored him. Angered by this rebuff the man asked again. “Where you from?”

“After that, all I remember is just hearing multiple pops. Pop! Pop! Pop! Seven shots,”
Flores recalls solemnly. “He got shot in his face. His blood, his brains, covered my body. He fell
to the ground and was screaming and crying, and I grabbed him, and he kept telling me not to let
him die. And I held him in my arms until he died. Everybody else said he was already dead when
I picked him up. And I was the one screaming and saying not to let him die. After that everything
went downhill.”

Flores was 13 when his mother kicked him out of her house and soon after committed his
first crime. He spent a month living in the park and robbed someone in order to get food. At 17,
he went to prison. He was sentenced to ten years even though the specific crime he was charged
with was not one he committed. His record now shows the wrongful conviction, but after being
released he was brought in a second time for gang-related crimes. He spent a total of ten years

behind bars and now, serving out his parole, he is committed to changing his life (Flores 2013). “I
have done a lot of productive things for myself and for other people, and I feel good about myself
now. I stepped away from [the gang life], and I decided it is my time to shine. And now I am
shining.”

Flores hopes soon he won’t have to see his past in the mirror each day. He hopes until
then others will see beyond the tattoos and recognize the person he is today. “I hope they see this
guy,” he says gesturing to the tattoo-less photo, “inside of this guy. That is all I ever wanted was
to get seen as him.”

Each participant in Burton’s project shares similar storylines but are at different points in
their journeys toward transformation. Some never complete theirs. Eddie, who did not give his
last name, shrugged when he saw his photos. His eyes narrowed as he said the tattoo-less
8

depiction was not him. Rather than sharing his story he remarked that some secrets are not meant
to be shared (Eddie 2013). Soon after he dropped out of the program at Homeboy Industries, quit
his job, and turned his back on a different life (Burton 2013).

Francisco Rivera, who worked with Eddie at the Homeboy Industries café inside City
Hall, says it’s difficult to leave life as a gang member and he is no stranger to the struggle. Only
nine months out of jail, Rivera is viewing his photos for the first time in Steven Burton’s
downtown LA studio loft. It is a stiflingly hot day and sounds of the city below rise with the heat
through the open window as Rivera confronts the two identities presented before him (Rivera

2013).

There are many long silences peppered with obscenities as Rivera reacts to his photos.
“(Tattoos) change a lot you know,’ he says, gazing at the prints. “Right here I look like a
criminal, like somebody who just doesn’t give a fuck. I look like a disrespectful individual. And
in this one I look like a hard workingman.”

Rivera credits his younger brother Christian, who is also participating in the project, with
motivating him to change his life. Christian has always followed in his brother’s footsteps, a path
that led to crime, conviction, and a seven-year prison sentence. Christian was released four
months ago, and Rivera decided then to turn his life around. “I figured I am not going to tell him
to stay out of trouble when I am already doing the same bullshit myself,” he says. “So what we
are going to do, is do it together. He has always looked up to me. I feel like I have a big fault in a
lot of the things that happened in our lives.”

Rivera says he was the first in his family to join a gang. He started as a tagger doing
graffiti art and sought to garner greater respect—the respect given to gang members. He was 13,
smoking crack, and ready to commit to his gang even if meant death or life in prison. The day he
was jumped into the gang, his life changed forever. “I came back from getting beat up, and I went
home and I locked myself in the restroom, and I was looking at myself in the mirror and I was
9

like, damn I am a gang member now. And I remember just standing there and just throwing up
the gang signs. I was thinking, ‘Fuck it, I am going to make it into a career, ya know.’”

He doesn’t go into the details about his life as a gang member. “What I have done is
already buried. I don’t need to bring none of that up no more or glorify that,” he explains. But he
does say his past continues to haunt him. Rivera says he visualizes his own funeral. He can see
the coffin and those in attendance. These images began after he became a gang member and he
continues to think about them today. What has changed is that now he cares whether he lives or
dies. “I don’t want to fucking get thrown in the street with a bullet in my head. I don’t want to go
down like that,” he says. “I am seeing things a lot differently.”

These are emotions he once would not allow himself to feel. Dealing with death on a
daily basis, Rivera trained himself to deny his feelings and rebuff relationships. “We have to,” he
explains. “We can’t let our feelings get the best of us.” After a pause he adds, “If you have no
feelings, you pretty much don’t have anything. You don’t feel nothing, you just don’t give a shit.
Or give a shit about yourself. “

Unable to house his feelings on the inside he displayed them on the outside. He says his
tattoos all depict evil—demonic faces, symbols, and clowns worn often by gang members to
reflect the “laugh now, cry later,” symbolism. There are some he says he would rather not talk
about. “Just anger and pain that is inside of me,” he says. He got them hoping they would strike
fear in those who crossed him, and he saw fear as a form of respect. Now he says fear gets in the
way of respect. “I would like for people to not just look at me – I would people to approach me
and try to get to know me,” Rivera says. “They won’t do it because the way that I look. They fear
that. They fear an individual like this.”

He says he is working toward a new life and is hoping to get most of his tattoos removed.
Rivera also says he is trying to go back to school in addition to working two jobs. “I want to be
respected for being a hard working man,” he says. “Someone who takes care of his kids. Loving
people. That’s how I want to get respected.”
10

A month and a half after finishing parole, at the age of 28, he is a free man for the first
time in his adult life. He recently moved into an apartment with a new girlfriend and, with her by
his side, he is hopeful he can overcome the struggle to leave behind gang life --- the only life he
has ever known.

“But now I just feel like,” he says, with a long pause, “…I be like one foot in and one

foot out. When I put both my feet in to this lifestyle of gang banging, I think about my [girlfriend]

and this shit is not worth losing something good that I have.”

Rivera says he hopes people can learn to be more open and not judge him and others who
look like him. In the meantime he is working to get all the visible ones removed—for his brother,
his girlfriend, and for himself. “I want this so I am making it happen,” he declares. “I want to go
to work, and I want to just come home and relax. I want to be able to enjoy company to where we

don’t even have to do anything. We can just have a great time just by sitting down and watching a
movie. Fuck, like, whoever said dreams don’t come true—they do”

Tattoo removal is one step toward fulfilling the dream that both Francisco Flores and
Francisco Rivera have -- a chance at a clean slate. That is also why Marcus Luna is in the process
of removing the tattoos that cover his face. He expressed disbelief at the photos. To him the two
photos represented two different people—and he struggled to identify which was truly himself –
and if he could ever have been the man without tattoos (Luna 2013).

He held the pictures up as if weighing them. He ticks off the traits he sees in the picture
of the tattooed Luna. He says he is a drug addict. He is a gang member. He is a thief. He is a liar.
He ends with an upward inflection suggesting perhaps these are questions and not admissions
about his identity (Luna 2013).

“Even if I was not painted, I would have been in the same place like this guy,” Luna says.
“ It is just the ink eh? There is no ink. I could be him, or I could be him,” he says gesturing first to
one picture then the other. “I dunno what people will say about these two individuals…I want
them to see the tattoos but see me too. I want them to recognize me for both people I am. I want
11

them to see the artwork and it is a story. A sad story plus being incarcerated and the person I am
today. Trying to be humble and trying to make it in life. Trying to communicate with others. Just
don’t judge me for what you see.”

The work photographer Steven Burton did enabled an instant glimpse of the effects of
tattoo removal but the actual process often takes years and requires a long-term commitment to
change. Dr. Dan Hyslop is one of 30 doctors who volunteer their services to Homeboy Industries,
and for almost four years he has been helping men and women change their outward identities.

Tall, thin with angular features, Hyslop is outgoing, animated and inquisitive. He says he
is inspired that the patients he sees are committed to changing their lives. “You can’t go through
that much pain,” he says, “or you might be able to go through it once but you won’t be able to
come back unless there is already been an inside change. And this is where it starts.”

Hyslop has removed a wide variety of tattoos from all over the body. Many come to
remove visible tattoos from their heads and faces – even their eyelids. He says he can’t imagine
the degree of pain patients feel as the lasers burn deeply into the most sensitive areas on the body.
After enduring the pain, patients face long wait times to see the results and are not granted instant
gratification (Hyslop 2013).

There are also risks of complications, though Hyslop says they are rare. Side effects
include discoloration of the skin, scarring, and risk of infection. Hyslop says he is unsure about
the health effects of ink absorption, but said most reactions to ink occur when tattoos are initially
put on. “There are certain inks that don’t remove well and can cause problems when you try to
remove them,” he says. “They oxidize. Glow in the dark inks, there are a lot of unregulated inks,
white is hard to come off, they almost have a metallic look to it. Fortunately, most of the ink is
this bad blue and black stuff that comes off pretty well”

Hyslop says the tattoo-removal process is an essential step in the process of personal
change and, although he says he connects with the men and women who come through his office,
he understands the stigma associated with the tattoos they have come to remove. “The world will
12

make up their mind quickly,” he says. “We are human beings and we have to quickly assess if we
are safe. And that is just instinctual.” Still he thinks the stigma is what is holding people back,
when they have undergone a change and want to improve their lives. “You have to take (the
tattoos) off or you are not going to get the benefits from that change.”

A study published by Florida State University College of Criminology and Criminal
Justice earlier this year demonstrated a correlation between violent behavior and tattoos (Bales,
Blomberg and Waters, 2013). Researchers found that “not only does increasing the number of
tattoos increase the likelihood of a violent behavior infraction but the more tattoos offenders have
the more violent behavior infractions they will commit.” The study was evaluated violence in
prisons and, while additional research is required, theories were put forward to explain the
connection.

One such theory, called “Labeling Theory”, which suggests negative labels and social
stigma can cause people to commit crimes, was cited by the report and offered as a potential
explanation in the conclusion of the report:

“Perhaps, having tattoos, particularly multiple ones and those not covered by clothing,
could result in negative societal reactions that block conventional and law-abiding
opportunities for released inmates thereby facilitating a greater likelihood for violent as
well as other crimes” (Bales, Blomberg and Waters, 2013).

Hyslop says the stories he hears suggest a lot of what happens in the lives of program
participants stems from being labeled. “If they are that destitute and at a very young age led to
believe they are worthless pieces of shit, then you can expect them to join a gang where they are
going to find belonging and meaning and friends,” Hyslop said, “and they will get into drugs and
alcohol. They will get a girl pregnant, and they will go to prison and they will get out and repeat
that whole thing again.”

Each participant in the photography project described the revolving door of
institutionalization, often remarking they had spent most of their lives in some form of
13

incarceration. Most got their tattoos while behind bars, where they also say they became more
entrenched in their identities as gang members.

Recidivism, or the tendency to relapse and return to prison after being released, is
common in this community and is an issue affecting jails and prisons at county, state, and

national level. According to a report by the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, California
has the highest recidivism rate in the country. Close to 70 percent of released California inmates
return to jail or prison within three years, most due to parole violations, according to the report
(Fitch 2013).

To respond to growing recidivism rates and associated expenditures, California Governor
Jerry Brown signed legislation in 2011 to help curb the “revolving door” of inmates in state
prisons by having parole violators serve their sentences in county jails rather than state prisons,
though they can only be held for up to 180 days (Realignment Report, 2013).

Los Angeles County, which has one of the country’s largest jail systems, is now
responsible for housing state and local inmates. Under Sheriff Lee Baca, new programs have been
implemented with an emphasis on rehabilitation with the hopes of reducing high recidivism rates
and stopping the cycle. The Education Based Incarceration program, launched two years ago, was
designed to address these issues (Fitch 2013).

A RAND Corporation study conducted earlier this year confirms the objectives are
important. Researchers found, on average correctional education programs like EBI produce 43
percent lower chances of recidivism for those who participate compared to those who do not. The
study also found that these programs are cost effective and produce lower expenditures over time,
despite additional investment in rehabilitative programs (Bozick, Davis, Miles, Saunders, Steele,

2013).

An important part of the Education Based Incarceration program is tattoo removal, and
the Sheriff’s Department is now providing free tattoo removal services to inmates who enroll in
the program at Twin Towers Jail. The 1.5 million square foot concrete fortress is one of the
14

largest jails in the world and overlooks the cemented riverbed of the LA River. In the distance the
Downtown LA skyline can be seen protruding into the horizon. Sergeant Raymond Harley, who
oversees the Education Based Incarceration program, speaks from his windowed office housed at
the jail. He is serious and direct and speaks with certainty. His demeanor is frequently softened
with a smile, however, as he speaks about the positive role his program plays in the lives of
inmates. “It is connected to the full rehabilitative efforts of the Sheriff’s Department to turn the
lives of inmates around,” he says. “Because a lot of these inmates have unsightly tattoos, they
don’t look so good when you go for a job interview,” he continued. “So we are trying to give

them the education and the vocational education, and along with that, in order to have the better
opportunities for jobs, we are trying to help by getting rid of these tattoos (Harley 2013)”

Harley says he has headed this department for just over a year and half and that it has
changed the way he views the role of the county jail. Dedicating most of his 26-year career to
“traditional law enforcement” or, as he puts it, “taking bad guys to jail,” he now sees the value in
rehabilitative efforts and the humanity of inmates. “Their thoughts, their feelings, their hopes – it
gave me a whole different perspective about what a typical inmate is like,” he says. “Not all
inmates or prisoners are murdering, cop-beating type people. A lot of them are crying out for
help.”

The culture of law enforcement in Los Angeles is changing, Harley continued. Where the
past focused heavily on punishment, the future is about opportunity, he said. “We have their
attention for months and even years and a forum to be able to give them something positive. If I
had been exposed to something like this first it probably would have changed my way of looking
at people out in the streets.” New deputies coming into the department will have a different
experience than he did by exposure to these programs and to a different side of inmates, he added.

Officer Cynthia Murphy, who joined Harley to offer personal insights about the program
works directly with inmates and comments on the relationships she has been able to build with
them. Murphy has a cherubic face and bright blonde hair. Her peppy attitude and chipper vocal
15

inflections are not what one might expect from a representative of the Los Angeles Sheriffs
Department, which has come under fire in recent years for harsh tactics against both suspects and
inmates.

She shares success stories and talks about having the trust of inmates and in trusting
them. The changes she sees are dramatic, Murphy says with excitement. “You just see an
amazing transformation,” she continues. “It is your hope that when you let them back out into
society they are going to keep that pride and that sparkle they have in their eye, even when they
are dressed in blues and incarcerated. The tattoo makes a difference.”

Murphy says with pride that the program has just passed 600 inmate participants
(Murphy 2013). But in a prison system that houses an average of 19,000, this is only a small
percentage. Harley says there is a waiting list for services, and there are more interested inmates
than resources. “We are constantly working on expanding and improving what we do because
Sheriff Baca’s ultimate goal is to provide some type of programming to every inmate who wants
it,” he explains.

The Vera Institute of Justice, an independent nonprofit research center that provides
information and resources that assist governments in improving justice systems, studied the
effectiveness of the Sheriff’s Department’s rehabilitation programs this year and found that the
vast majority of inmates were unaware or did not receive services while in jail. Out of 80 people
it interviewed, only six had received services although these six reported that the services were
helpful (Sandwick, et al. 2013)

Vera reported that the primary obstacles were budgetary constraints and understaffing; it
also said that the Sheriff’s Department lacked the capacity to sufficiently evaluate the
effectiveness of the programs it offered (Sandwick, et al. 2013). “We are planning on instituting
better technology so we are better tracking the inmates involved in our programs and then
following that up with solid recidivism numbers,” Harley commented. He adds that preliminary
studies are showing positive numbers but until now tracking has been difficult (Harley 2013).
16

The report also highlighted that a long culture of negative inmate treatment from the
Sheriffs Department has resulted in lack of trust from inmates and was the reason why many did
not participant in the program. “While interviewees who actually received jail-based services had
positive feedback, many others never made contact with these services, in part due to a deeply
ingrained distrust of correctional staff,” the report said.

Murphy remarked that her participants acknowledge the negative perception of law
enforcement and lack of trust. “Some inmates have come up to me and said, ‘Gosh, Miss Murphy,
you are so much nicer than our other officers and deputies,’” she said. “But I remind them—if I
seem like I am acting different it is because every day I get to see the best of you.”

But Harley says the cultural shift needed within the Sheriff’s Department is occurring and
that these trust issues are being addressed. “It is important that as much of the community as
possible realizes Sheriff’s Baca’s vision right now is all about trying to help the inmates change
them and improve their standing in life,” the veteran sergeant said. “What we are doing now is
greatly increasing the chance for the inmates to change their lives. It transforms these inmates
from life of crime, substance abuse problems, gang affiliations, and it transforms their way of
thinking into becoming functional working members of society.” He adds that ground has been
broken on a new resource center that will provide assistance to inmates who are transitioning

back into society and Murphy says she provides a list of free or low-cost tattoo-removal centers
where former inmates can continue their treatment.

Homeboy Industries is on that list but most don’t come there by referral from prison.

They come because others they know have gone before or because of a chance encounter with the
man who founded the organization, Father Greg Boyle. He has brought in thousands of men and
women who are struggling to rebuild their lives in a post-prison world. Tattoo removal is an
important step. Tattoos tell the stories of their difficult pasts and removing the past is difficult to
do.
17

Those who are trying, including the participants in Steven Burton’s photography project,
are working against the odds. Many, like Eddie, will fall back into a life of crime. Some will
make it through the struggle and, Francisco Rivera says he hopes people will understand that
people can change. “It would be cool if we all work together,” Rivera says when he has finished
sharing his story. The other participants share similar sentiments, ultimately all concluding with
the same plea. “I think you should just, like, meet the person, get to know the person before you
judge,” Mario Lundes says. All of them also voice camaraderie with others but say one must be
ok with himself or herself to have the chance at a better life.

“Today I can tell you give yourself a chance – it is ok,” Marcus Luna declares. “Don’t let
the weight that you carry hurt yourself. I am not in a cell. Today—today I am ok.
Copyright
2013

Gabrielle
Canon

References

Bales, William D., Thomas G. Blomberg, and Kevin Waters. Inmate Tattoos and In-Prison and
Post-Prison Violent Behavior. Study, College of Criminology and Criminal Justice, Florida State
University, International Journal of Criminology and Sociology. 2013

Burton, Steven, interview by Gabrielle Canon. (September 15, 2013).

Burton, Steven, interview by Gabrielle Canon (September 25, 2013).

Davis, Lois M., Robert Bozick, Jennifer L. Steele, Jessica Saunders, and Jeremy N Miles.
Evaluating the Effectiveness of Correctional Education. RAND, Rand, 2013.

Eddie, interview by Gabrielle Canon (September 22, 2013).

Fitch, Brian. Education Based Incarceration: Changing the Way We Incarcerate. EBI, Los Angeles
Sheriffs Department, 2013

Flores, Francisco, interviewed by Gabrielle Canon. Los Angeles, CA (September 21, 2013).

Harley, Raymond, interview by Gabrielle Canon (September 30, 2013).

Hyslop, Dan, interview by Gabrielle Canon. (September 28, 2013).

Luna, Marcus, interview by Gabrielle Canon. (September 20, 2013).

Lundes, Mario, interview by Gabrielle Canon. (September 20, 2013).

Murphy, Cynthia, interview by Gabrielle Canon. (September 30, 2013).

Office of Research, Research and Evaluation Branch. “Realignment Report.” California Department
of Corrections And Rehabilitation, 2013.

Rivera, Christian, interview by Gabrielle Canon. (September 21, 2013).

Rivera, Francisco, interview by Gabrielle Canon. (September 21, 2013).

Sandwick, Talia, Karen Tamis, Jim Parsons, and Cesar Arauz-Cuadra. “Making the Transition:
Rethinking Jail Reentry in Los Angeles County.” Vera Institute of Justice, 2013.

Abstract (if available)

Abstract Photographer Steven Burton photographed six former gang members who are participating in Homeboy Industry’s program and digitally removed their tattoos to illustrate the impact tattoos have on perception and identity. After they viewed the photos for the first time first-person interviews were conducted about their reaction, their lives, and the role they think their tattoos play as they are attempting to leave behind their gang identities. This thesis reflects their sentiments and pairs them with research and information on the actual tattoo removal process and evaluates the tattoo removal program offered through the Los Angeles Sheriffs Department. ❧ Using research studies and interviews with a doctor who specializes in tattoo removal and two officers from the Los Angeles Sheriffs Department Education Based Incarceration Program this piece seeks to illustrate the importance of tattoo removal and the issues needed to overcome in the system to make programs and solutions more widely available to inmates and former gang members who are unable to move forward because their tattoos identify them in a negative way.

Linked assets

University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

Conceptually similar

PDF

Coloured identity in post-apartheid South Africa

PDF

Everybody needs a hero

PDF

California conundrum: big and rich SoCal drinking its way to oblivion

PDF

The Navajo Nation reacts to ""native"" fashion trend

PDF

American dreaming: the audacious bid to bring pro cricket to the USA

PDF

New daigou in progress

PDF

Get @ me: comedy in the age of social media

PDF

An old art in a new home: Beijing Opera in Los Angeles

PDF

Trafficked: life on the margins

PDF

Travel with beer: a Web travel guide to brews in Los Angeles

PDF

Fear and penury in Los Angeles

PDF

A psywar over the phone

PDF

Jobs, not jail: Homeboy Industries, a radical approach to redirecting adolescents away from the criminal justice system

PDF

The everyday Olympics: an introduction to the many faces of Special Olympics

PDF

Cultural differences

PDF

Health rights violations of California women prisoners

PDF

Read my voice: a documentary

PDF

Beyond halal

PDF

One of us: exploring the relationship between Hollywood and disability

PDF

VoxMox: creation of a website that reviews and critiques programming on Hispanic television networks

Asset Metadata

Creator Canon, Gabrielle (author)

Core Title Skin deep: former inmates struggle to build new identities in a post-prison world

School Annenberg School for Communication

Degree Master of Arts

Degree Program Specialized Journalism

Publication Date 05/22/2014

Defense Date 11/01/2013

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag gang,gang member,OAI-PMH Harvest,Prison,tattoo,tattoo-removal

Format application/pdf (imt)

Language English

Contributor Electronically uploaded by the author (provenance)

Advisor Parks, Michael (committee chair), Shive, Ian (committee member), Ward, Thomas (committee member)

Creator Email canon.gabrielle@gmail.com

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c3-350431

Unique identifier UC11295257

Identifier etd-CanonGabri-2179.pdf (filename),usctheses-c3-350431 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier etd-CanonGabri-2179-0.pdf

Dmrecord 350431

Document Type Thesis

Format application/pdf (imt)

Rights Canon, Gabrielle

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the a...

Repository Name University of Southern California Digital Library

Repository Location USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus MC 2810, 3434 South Grand Avenue, 2nd Floor, Los Angeles, California 90089-2810, USA