Game of Thrones author George R.R. Martin describes the predominant attitudes, mentalities, and worldviews found in prison so well, it is surprising that he hasn’t done any time. Maybe he is in tune with something primordial in the nature of man, able to understand what happens to individual psyches when society is organized around force and violence. In so many ways, prison represents what an all-male feudal society would look like, a modern castle enclosed by stainless steel walls — only one meant to keep people in instead of keeping invaders out.
I read the entire Song of Ice and Fire series multiple times before the HBO’s Game of Thrones version ever came out. It helped a messed-up kid from the suburbs gather his thoughts and understand how to survive in a violent, honor-based society. In some ways, it helped save my life.
For those of you who know the books or the show, I survived prison basically by being Tyrion Lannister. Much less wealthy but with a little more height, I’ve nonetheless survived in prison since I was 15 years old, and continue to do about as well as possible in a world that primarily respects fearsomeness, despite being more “compact” than most people.
Like everyone’s favorite Lannister, I came into this particular world with disadvantages: my height, my teenage struggles to put on weight, my excessively youthful appearance. (Those who don’t know me tend to look at me today and refuse to believe that I’ve done nearly twenty years of hard time.) I completely lack the ability to look mean. A growl or snarl from me doesn’t intimidate anyone much. I’ve worked nineteen years on a “mean face” and still am not good at it. Sometimes I’ve been known, like Tyrion, to talk too much. But, also like Tyrion, I learn very, very quickly. Growing up and living my entire adulthood in prison, I got by through striving to understand people: what motivates them, what makes them tick, and how to interact with them. Whether you’re the famous Imp of Westeros or a youth in prison, your wits become your chief asset.
If Game of Thrones has any message, it is to find and accept who you are, to be brave, and to learn to leverage (but not over-leverage) what you possess to survive in a world not designed for you to succeed. You struggle and learn, and begin to understand others: how they see themselves, and how they see you. You try to be brave even when it is hard, even when you know you don’t have a chance at winning against a fearsome foe. You find what your strengths are, and use them to gain the respect and influence you can.
I’ve met honorable Jon Snows of the Night’s Watch, living with us banished men of the kingdom. I’m surrounded daily by angry Cleganes, treacherous Boltons, and far-too-many uniformed Joffreys. Every other man inside is a self-anointed knight with an attitude. Every wannabe shot caller is like a lord who thinks he’s better than everyone else, playing a Game of Thrones on the prison yard to be king of a forsaken land until knocked down or transferred to another one.
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I’ve spent almost twenty years around schemers like Littlefinger as well as soldiers, watched alliances form and crumble, had former allies turn on me and former enemies come to my aid. Battles are sometimes battles of the mind, but are sometimes actual battles. And those who don’t meet the traditional definition of what a knight, or a prisoner, should look like have a harder time in this feudal world.
My first few years — really, my first ten — were the hardest years. There were times I was targeted not because of anything I did nor the crime I committed, but because of my appearance. I’ve spent much of my time incarcerated on trial every day for how I look. There were fights I got in because the other person didn’t feel that someone who looked like a kid should have the right to speak, or because someone thought that the smaller guy wouldn’t fight back. There were times I had some huge predator want to sexually assault me because of my youthful appearance, and I kept safe solely through luck. Other times, I was mocked as a teen in prison for my low weight.
How did Game of Thrones help me survive prison? Because during those difficult times, it taught me to remember who and what I am, to be aware of how others see me, and to not be destroyed by trying to be something I cannot. It taught me that, even in a world designed against you, you can find a way forward. And it taught me that, when the world you’re in does everything to convince you that you’re nothing, you find your own strength and redefine what it means to lead.
Chris Dankovich #595904
Thumb Correctional Facility
3225 John Conley Drive
Lapeer, MI 48446
