Inside Oklahoma’s Prison Journalism Project

Deborah “Jax” Franks is usually up late. As one of the lead editors for Mabel Bassett Correctional Center’s new prison newspaper, The Mabel Bassett Balance, she has a lot on her mind—and a lot of time to think. 

There is a sweet spot between midnight and 3 a.m., after lockdown when most people are asleep but before the kitchen workers wake up. “Funny that the same time that haunts me is also the most productive block of hours I have been able to find for my writing and editorial duties,” she told me via Securus, an online portal that Oklahoma prisoners use to communicate with the outside.

Her prison-issued tablet¹ is bright enough to see her notes and rough drafts. Turning on the prison overhead light would be rude, and Jax tries to be a considerate insomniac. She sits in her bed, a pillow under her spine, fingerless gloves on her hands, and a roll-up keyboard steadied on her chessboard case. 

It's from this makeshift desk that she helps lead Oklahoma's most subversive² new print publication: A collaboration between Tulsa’s Poetic Justice and the national Prison Journalism Project that trains women who are incarcerated to be journalists. Ellen Stackable, a longtime advocate for women who are incarcerated, has led the charge at Poetic Justice for a decade. As Executive Director of Poetic Justice, her mission is to empower women to express themselves, whether through poetry or creative nonfiction. Stackable said the new journalism initiative would not be possible without the current Oklahoma Department of Corrections’ administrative support. 

Two publications—The Mabel Bassett Balance and The Warrior Standard—launched last year with enough copies for all prisoners³ and staff, plus extras for nonprofits and politicians. The papers reflect their distinct communities. At Eddie Warrior, a minimum-security facility in Taft, Oklahoma, where most residents are preparing for release, the paper emphasizes reentry resources and transition planning. The Mabel Bassett edition, which serves many women with longer sentences in McLoud, focuses more on how to make the best of life on the inside. Printing costs work out to about 40 cents per issue, made possible through nonprofit and private donor support. 

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The Mabel Bassett newsroom would feel familiar to any journalist: Deadlines. Post-it notes. Chaos. The women lay out mock-up pages with cartoons, illustrations, and puzzles. Headlines and captions are discussed. A writer defends her particular word choice to the group; others argue about which photos deserve color. Most of the paper is printed in black and white, but the centerfold is printed in color. 

But there is a different concept of hierarchy than I saw while working at This Land or The Tulsa Voice. “Staff writers and volunteers are integral to every part of the publication process, including those tasks generally reserved for editorial staff,” Jax explained. “Editors for The Balance understand we are training our sisters to replace us, and see fulfilling these training obligations as an act of love for the writers, the newspaper, and the Mabel Bassett community.” 

Of course, they must balance journalism's truth-telling mission with institutional requirements. Knowing a headline screaming “The Food Sucks” wouldn’t get approved, The Warrior Standard editors published an article explaining how to overcome high blood pressure on a controlled diet alongside an infographic showing the amount of sodium in different canteen items. 

Also in the first issue of The Warrior Standard, Jamie Mullis highlighted a new accredited beauty college program that helps with job placement and transitional living, and Geneva Phillips, an editor, wrote about higher-education success stories. An article in Spanish, titled “Desafíos y Triunfos” (“Challenges and Triumphs”), by Mary Arreola, described how Hispanic and Spanish-speaking women overcome unique educational barriers and celebrate academic successes in prison. 

Kolton Sanders, a staff writer, wrote a light-hearted personal essay about teaching the oldest woman at Mabel Bassett how to use her tablet, and Kimberly Wenthold covered the Inmate Council’s focus on restorative justice. Between news stories, readers can find Cassie Cramer's recipe for lemon cheesecake, which repurposes commissary items (scrape icing off lemon cookies, combine it with creamer and sour cream for filling, then chill on ice overnight).

You can even find presidential election results coverage in the second issue of The Mabel Bassett Balance: “Trump Triumph: Meet Your New President Elect” by Lindsey Smith ran alongside an article Jax wrote about how to feel calm under emotional stress. The juxtaposition was intentional. Many of the staff writers have some academic writing experience, but they are not journalists. Or, they weren’t before this program. Jax has the advantage of attending journalism school in a past life.⁴ 

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Prison journalism has somewhat obvious obstacles. A free journalist would be able to do her own research, but the writers and editors inside Mabel Bassett and Eddie Warrior have no internet access. Volunteers help, but they can only do so much. 

Articles also must pass through multiple layers of review, and certain topics are off-limits. One layer is Kay Thompson. She was a writer and editor at the Okemah News Leader before becoming the Chief of Public Relations at the Oklahoma Department of Corrections, and happened to be proofing the latest issue when I asked her about censorship. 

One that didn’t make the cut? “How Prison Taught Us to Survive a Zombie Apocalypse,” a satirical piece written by Crystal Avilla and Jax. It seemed to Thompson that they were airing some grievances, and the Oklahoma DOC does not want to incite a negative atmosphere. 

Jax let me read an unpublished draft: Waiting in long lines, not being fed well, and bartering (which is technically illegal in prison) has prepared the women of Mabel Bassett to outlive the undead. My favorite part: “Prison teaches us to fashion tools out of any ordinary object. We have learned to make the most of the things we find around us. During the zombie apocalypse, it will be imperative to know how to convict-engineer something out of broken nothings left behind by others.” Incidentally, the piece has been submitted elsewhere for publication.

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Despite the occasional newsroom disagreements, the project has had a positive impact on inmates, guards, and prison staff.

If the resources were available, Nicole Flemming, Chief of Offender Advocacy at the Oklahoma DOC, would have a similar program in every single prison. “It gives women an opportunity to heal their suppressed trauma. Some of them never had an opportunity to address that; maybe they were in a violent relationship,” Flemming said. “It teaches them it's okay to communicate, express, and emotionally regulate themselves. A lot of times they have never had that.” 

Jax considers the DOC’s censorship somewhat Pollyannaish. “We embrace dark humor here because you have to,” she said. “Honesty is essential or our readership will not trust us. We're a small community newspaper at our core, and our coverage must reflect our reality. To that end, we fight to keep stories we deem integral to that goal.” 

In many ways, The Balance and The Standard have the same goal as any other community newspaper—they share local news, celebrate achievements, and build connections through shared experience. But they're also revolutionary: giving voice to those whom society often silences, proving that even behind bars, the power of the press can endure.