40 years of Guts and Glory? A very curious day at Angola State Prison Rodeo

About halfway through the Angola Prison Rodeo last Sunday, a man drove into the arena and out of his star spangled banner-emblazoned truck jumped three dogs…with live monkeys tied to their backs.

The dogs, “ridden” by the monkeys, proceeded to herd three goats into a red, white and blue pen before the entire merry band leapt back into the truck, cheered on by a delighted crowd. If it wasn’t already, this particularly surreal section made one thing achingly clear: the Angola Prison Rodeo is a circus. There are even “professional rodeo clowns” present to “ensure inmate participant safety."

Angola Rodeo is the longest-running prison rodeo in the country. As the official website puts it: “40 years of Guts & Glory.” First opened to the public in 1967 the Rodeo has grown in size and stature ever since; the current arena seats over 10,000 people. In 1972 the official Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association Rules were adopted and it became a permanent event. Every Sunday in October and one full weekend in April the prison opens to the public. Thousands of people watch inmates, as well as a few more professional participants, chase horses, fall off horses and try to avoid being slaughtered by a raging bull.

Events include “Bust Out” where “all six chutes open simultaneously, releasing six angry bulls, with temporarily attached inmate cowboys” and “Bull Riding,” described as a “dangerous and wide open event,” which “is what the fans come to see” as “[I]nexperienced inmates sit on top of a 2,000 pound Brahma bull. To be eligible for the coveted "All-Around Cowboy" title, a contestant must successfully complete the ride (6 seconds).”

The worst event though is “Convict Poker.” Four incarcerated men, in black and white-striped garb, sit at a red poker table and begin to play. A bull is then set loose in the arena. The inmate who remains seated the longest, wins. Sitting far away and highly raised, safely perched on a bench, watching the spectacle unfold was a disturbing and quite sickening experience.

Yet the rodeo was not, in fact, the most unsettling part of the day. There is also a craft fair. Inmates work throughout the year to produce various goods, which they sell at the fair. What makes this so horrible to witness is that the majority of prisoners selling their products can only do so from behind a wire fence. Only trustees - those who have been on good behaviour for a very long time - are allowed to mingle with the visitors. All the others who have been allowed to attend - and this is only a small number of prisoners in the entire prison - are penned behind wire fences. Like animals in a farm they are herded in together and stand pressed-up against the fences, looking out as visitors wander around.

Many people who attend the Rodeo are friends and family of inmates so spend time chatting and catching up - one of the rare opportunities they have. But many of the visitors I saw that day avoided making eye contact or engaging with the prisoners at all.

All the men I spoke to at the Rodeo were engaging, funny and articulate. We chatted about any manner of things; my British accent was, of course, an instant ice-breaker. I asked a couple of them how they feel about the Rodeo. “It’s just good fun,” said one guy, “they don’t have to do it and then enjoy it.” But another said “I don’t like it. We’re not animals in a zoo but that’s what it makes us.” I couldn’t agree more.

75% of the men in Angola are serving life sentences. They will never get to leave. At the end of the day I spoke to a young guy of about my age who grew up in New Orleans. We chatted about the city and how I like living here. Then he asked me my name. When I told him that it is Clemency he did a double-take, looked at me wide-eyed and said: “You mean, like the thing we all want?”