I. Hamilton’s Testimonial

Rehabilitation through Chess

My introduction to the game of chess happened in a place that may surprise you. A place that is much better known for its corruption, gangs, and violence than its capacity for strategic thought. The Los Angeles County Jail.

I arrived at a crowded 200-man dorm in 2010. At first, there were more pressing issues to address than my mental health and stability. Participating in physical violence was NOT optional for new arrivals. In fact, my safety and social standing depended largely on my willingness to fight other men on a daily basis.

One morning I saw a group of guys sitting around a red and black checkers board with small chess pieces on it. Everyone, not just the two primary players, stared at the board with quiet intensity. It was as if the board projected a shield of respect that somehow held the tumult at bay. That is what attracted me to the game I would eventually fall in love with.

The players didn’t look like the refined chess masters I’d seen on television. Instead, they had scars, facial tattoos, and no shirts on. At first glance, you might think they didn’t know what they were doing. What appeared to be ineptitude was, in fact, a carefully calculated facade that I cheerfully fell victim to. Although they quickly talked me out of my game, looking back, I can’t help but smile. Those chess sharks befriended me and put me in the game.

I only recently came to appreciate how much I’ve benefited from playing chess. The countless hours I spent immersed in the game kept me away from much of the prison drama and the chess tables became a calm refuge that has improved my mental health and my lifestyle. As the years passed, my environment changed, I moved from jail to prison, but the chaos, violence, and privation endemic to incarceration stayed the same, but at each new stop, I found the same refuge offered by the royal game.

When I was first transferred to Prison, I was placed in a high security (level four) yard at Salinas Valley. The chess players there were mostly lifers and those who had spent decades in prison and they had much more experience playing chess. Those men helped me relearn the game from a more traditional standpoint and they introduced me to my first chess book.

In time, I improved, my thinking shifted, and my playing became more artful. However, the one thing that never changed for me was the feeling. It is difficult to describe what peace feels like amid chaos or what it means to experience it. The term “therapeutic value of chess” doesn’t capture it.

In prisons and jails across the world, chess builds a sense of community and respect. It is a healthy alternative to destruction and promotes critical analysis and problem-solving skills, and best of all, it provides a safe space for everyone.