Sanctuary

Produced by Justin Agrelo | In 2010, a group of men incarcerated at Danville Correctional Center had a thought: how could they help stem community violence plaguing Chicago from the inside of a prison roughly three hours away?  The men formed an academic study group they later named Community Anti-Violence Education (CAVE). They began examining the multiple layers of trauma and violence, both internally and externally hoping they could find a way to stem the damage done to their communities. What they didn’t realize at the time was that this study group would blossom into something much deeper. 

Transcript

Angel Pantoja: [00:00:00] I remember I came to school high one day and um, I was in the cafeteria. It was like eight o'clock. I sort of put my head down. Security guard comes and wakes me up and he says, I need to shake you down. I need to search you. I said, for what? He said, because somebody just said that That you stole their chain.

I said, I stole their chain? I've been here the whole morning. He's like, I, I know, just let me just search your bag real quick. So he searches it and he finds, uh, five, five dime bags. And I remember, he calls the cop, cause we had a police officer in there. And, uh, They put, they put it in a little baggie. And then they parade me up and down the school, talking about, we're expelling you, this and that, it's over with.

Like, I remember the principal stuck her head out and she said, [00:01:00] you're never coming back to this school again. And at the same time, I remember Mr. Mano, our vice principal, who was also my freshman year biology teacher, he said, Hold on, let's talk about this. Hold on, I'm sure it was a mistake. Is there anything we can do to make sure?

And I remember the cops like, Nah, there's nothing, we gotta take him in. And I was arrested and expelled from school. And a month later, I was incarcerated for a first degree murder. So

Justin Agrelo: In 2010, a group of men incarcerated at Danville Correctional Center had How could they help stem community violence plaguing Chicago from the inside of a prison roughly three hours [00:02:00] away? There were more than 400 homicides in Chicago that same year.

The men were students in the Education Justice Project, a collaboration between Danville and the University of Illinois. The men wondered, what if they started with themselves? They would all return home one day. And they still had ties to people back home. Maybe if they learn more about the relationship between trauma and violence, they could help stand the violence they saw impacting their communities.

Violence, many of them, were both victims and perpetrators of. The men formed an academic study group to examine the intricacies of community violence. What they didn't realize at the time was that this study group would blossom into something deeper. It would become a healing space where they didn't just learn about trauma as a concept, but began to unpack their own.[00:03:00] 

This is the story of that group of men. Down at Danville, working to heal themselves first and the difficult, complicated, vulnerable work that it takes.

This is Justin Agrello, with Sanctuary, for Change Agents, the podcast. 

Angel Pantoja: Stop.

Stop making me do this shit. You don't got like a little clip on thing? I can't clip this motherfucker on thing somewhere? Bro, I'm Latino. I talk with my hands. How's this gonna work? 

Justin Agrelo: I'm in an office at Adler University in downtown Chicago. I'm meeting with Angel Pantoja, whose voice you heard at the open of the episode.

Angel is the program coordinator of the Institute for Public Safety and Social Justice at Adler. His work is about making sure incarcerated people are not forgotten by their communities back [00:04:00] home. 

Angel Pantoja: My entire job with ILCHEP is to convince universities and colleges to want to go back and invest in the men and women who are currently locked up.

Justin Agrelo: In 1999, Angel was sentenced to 30 years in prison for a homicide. He was 17 years old. He spent the next 23 years bouncing between eight state prisons. He was officially released from the Illinois Department of Corrections in November, 2022. The son of Mexican immigrants, angel grew up in Chicago's Little Village and later in Gage Park when he was released, he noticed that he kept visiting his childhood home in Little Village. 

Angel Pantoja: And the reason I still drive by there sometimes is 'cause while I was there like. Yeah, we were poor. We were living in a small ass apartment. We had a bunch of different uncles or aunts staying with us, but we were happy.

Like my dad would come home tired as hell. [00:05:00] Four o'clock never failed. He'd be like, let's go. Where are we going? We're going to the park and we just go to the park and me and my little brother running around and he's teaching me how to play catch and he's teaching me how to throw, you know, baseball. And then we moved.

Justin Agrelo: Things changed for Angel when his family moved to Gage Park. 

Angel Pantoja: We moved because he got a better job. He was a truck driver. So by the time I got home, he'd be asleep, and by the time I woke up, he was already gone. And yeah, we had a nicer house, we had a little bit more room, nicer clothes. But the whole dynamic just felt different.

Justin Agrelo: With his dad not around as much, Angel says he began spending more time around the neighborhood. He joined the Latin Kings, thinking he'd be able to protect his cousins, who were already in the gang. Angel describes the time right before he was incarcerated as living two different lives. The first kid was the gang involved youth following around his [00:06:00] cousins.

Angel Pantoja: Like, there was a very specific instance They were going somewhere, and I remember they said, Nah, you can't come with us. You can't come with us, cause, you know, shit's gonna go down. And then it was like two days later, I hear that, like, my cousin got shot at. He didn't even get hit. And I remember thinking, I should've been there, I should've been there.

I'm not bulletproof, I don't know what the hell I was thinking, you know what I'm saying? As a kid, you're just dumb. You are. I mean, I've seen some pretty intelligent kids, but I was a dumb one. As a 40 year old now, I think about it, I'm like, Man, I was just foolish. 

Justin Agrelo: The second kid was someone who wasn't great at school, but who loved art and music.

The one who joined the All City Jazz Band after a music teacher told him he was talented. 

Angel Pantoja: And I remember we were outside of Orchestra Hall, because we got done playing at Jazz Fest. And I'm looking at, you know, downtown at night, and he's telling me like, look Angel, I don't know what you're getting yourself [00:07:00] involved in back in the neighborhood, but this could be your life.

You could be doing this professionally. And I remember just flat out dismissing like, nah, you crazy. Like I knew what I was going home to.

Justin Agrelo: Angel says that at such a young age, he couldn't fully process what it meant to have to spend the next two decades of his life inside of a cage. 

Angel Pantoja: You do the math. First thing you do is you do the math. You get your calculation sheet and it says you're not coming home to 2022. You're like, damn, cars will be flying by then.

And then you start doing the math and you're like, I'll be 40. Okay? And then you start thinking my mom will be 75. My dad will be 70 something.

But grandma died younger than that. I just thought they [00:08:00] were still going to be there when I get out.

Justin Agrelo: When he was incarcerated at 17, Angel was placed amongst the adult population. He said he tried to make the best of his circumstances. He threw himself into his education. Being surrounded by so many older people made him realize how little he actually knew about the world. He learned to paint, earned his GED, And then his associate's degree.

He eventually began teaching classes of his own and leading sermons in Spanish for the Latino community inside. When he was transferred to Danville, he came across a flyer for a group called Community Anti-Violence Education or CAVE. 

Elena Quintana: It started out as a study group, like a violence prevention study group for people who were imprisoned in Danville Correctional Center.

Justin Agrelo: This is Elena Quintana, the Executive Director of the Institute on Public [00:09:00] Safety and Social Justice at Adler University. She's also Angel's boss. 

There 

Elena Quintana: were a number of guys that were in prison there who were very interested in trying to figure out how to be proactive about stopping violence in Chicago, so they wanted to find a way to do that from prison.

Justin Agrelo: Elena has worked with CAVE since 2013, when it was just a study group examining the intricacies of community violence. She witnessed the group blossom into what it is today, a healing space meant to help men at Danville think critically about their trauma with the hope that finding healing will help stem cycles of violence, both inside and outside prison.

Elena Quintana: Well, the way that we thought about it was that if you can address your own trauma and the way that you respond to trauma, you can model that for other people. You can also provide outreach within the prison to help intervene when people are having [00:10:00] difficulty managing their own emotions or their responses to things.

Justin Agrelo: Angel joined CAVE after his friend Chili insisted he would be great at it. But after his first meeting with the group, he wasn't completely sure if it was for him. 

Angel Pantoja: My first impression is like, these are all some soft ass dudes. That was my very first impression. Do you know what I mean? You got guys getting emotional, you got guys telling all their business.

And I need you to understand that like, when I first came in, I had some really, really good teachers. But my teachers were like, you keep your fucking mouth shut at all times about all the things that you see. Right? The less they know about you, the less they can use against you. And then I get in there, and these guys are talking about their feelings, and that they feel sad, and that like, nobody likes me, and that they're putting their insecurities like right on on display, and I'm like, oh my god, what is this?

Justin Agrelo: Out of respect for his friend Chili, Angel says he decided he would try to stick with the group. 

Angel Pantoja: I didn't want to [00:11:00] like just up and quit after my first time. How was I going to explain it to Chili? Like, man, bro, that shit wasn't for me. I didn't want to do that to him. Cause I know he, I remember him telling me how much that program meant to him.

Like, okay, there's got to be something here.

Elena Quintana: Can I get the keys for DJP? 

Justin Agrelo: Elena, who we met earlier, is at Danville. She brought a recorder inside to tape a CAVE meeting. As an outside facilitator for CAVE, Elena is responsible for opening the classroom and getting the space set up before the meetings. Because she's recording inside of a prison, certain parts of the audio may be difficult to hear.

Elena Quintana: Hola. Hello. Guess what I have.

CAVE participant: A microphone, apparently, in your little hands. 

Elena Quintana: I do have a [00:12:00] microphone. But, even better than a microphone. 

CAVE participant: S.E.L.F. Manuals! Woo hoo hoo hoo hoo! She came through, yo! 

Elena Quintana: Dude, you know what we did? 

CAVE participant: What? Yeah. 

Elena Quintana: Angel, man. We're like, oh, we're trying to get a price to get the manuals made by a printer.

And he's like, I used to work on a binding machine in the joint. He's like, how much would it be to get a binding machine? 

CAVE participant: Couple bucks. Right. That's it, couple bucks. 

Justin Agrelo: Elena has a stack of printed S. E. L. F. manuals. Angel spent hours binding the manuals for the group. S. E. L. F. stands for Safety, Emotion, Loss, and Future.

It was developed by trauma therapist Sandra Bloom, who spent years working with survivors of gun violence in Philly. CAVE uses the manuals as a guide to learn more about trauma and unpack their own. 

Elena Quintana: You know what, I'm just learning something about People, once this recorder goes on, 

CAVE participant: What are you learning? 

Elena Quintana: The, [00:13:00] the pettiness goes out the room.

CAVE participant: Oh, you didn't know that my name is Tom Petty, and these are the heartbreakers. 

Justin Agrelo: Each CAVE meeting starts the same. About 15 guys sit in a circle where they discuss different topics, typically around emotional intelligence. The circle always opens with a check in where the guys share how they're feeling in that moment and how they're progressing on their commitments.

Each week, the men commit to living their lives according to the seven sanctuary commitments. 

Elena Quintana: The seven ones are committing to nonviolence, emotional intelligence, social learning, democracy or shared governance, open communication, social responsibility, and growth and change.

Justin Agrelo: We're about to hear from Tony Cole, a CAVE member at Danville. He starts his check in by saying he's committed to social responsibility for the week. 

Tony Cole: Social responsibility. There you go. I knew it. Is uh, what I committed to. And I um, [00:14:00] Realized that the impact of my consequences, the choices that I made on my family.

And that is very disheartening to know that I Put my people in a fucked up situation because of my refusal to just listen. 

Justin Agrelo: The seven sanctuary commitments are part of a larger healing framework called the Sanctuary Model. It was created in the 1980s by a team of clinicians working with Dr. Sandra Bloom.

Elena Quintana: Little by little, just discussing these concepts, it builds people's emotional vocabulary and it challenges people to think differently about trauma triggers. 

Justin Agrelo: CAVE members say the meetings have become a space where they can be vulnerable, open up about their heartbreaks and disappointments, about the struggles of surviving long stretches of prison [00:15:00] amongst a community of other people on their own paths to healing.

James Crowell: Alright, um, so I got a quote on the board to kind of set the tone for what we're going to discuss today. And it's by Dr. Judith Herman, who wrote Trauma and Recovery. 

Justin Agrelo: This is James Crowell. He's one of the group's current Inside Facilitators. Inside Facilitators are responsible for running each meeting and developing the curriculum for the group to think more critically about their place in the world.

Before each meeting, they draft wicked questions meant to facilitate discussion. 

James Crowell: The question is, what was the single most difficult thing you ever had to do that you were able to do successfully? 

Ronald Palm: Prison. 

Justin Agrelo: This is Ronald Palm, another CAVE participant. [00:16:00] 

Ronald Palm: Every day I wake up in this place is a fight for the assertion of my humanity.

So, just fighting to be, or recognize that I'm human, in this space. Because for me, to be honest with you, the most traumatic experience that I've ever encountered was this place. 

James Crowell: We see you, bro. We do see you, bro. We see you.

Angel Pantoja: Because honestly, CAVE isn't just one singular thing. It's a combination of a whole lot of things, a lot of skills. 

Justin Agrelo: This is Angel again. 

Angel Pantoja: Yeah, at first, maybe that first session, it sounded like a bunch of whiners and complainers. But what I was seeing is, it actually takes an incredible amount of courage to say the one thing that's causing you shame or fear and to reveal it to somebody else.

[00:17:00] The relief that they felt. I could see it. I could see it in their body. I could see it in their faces. Like they just got rid of this thing that's been torturing them. And I'm like, I gotta be dumb as hell. If I'm going to keep holding on to this. And I remember the first time I sort of admitted it. I'm not okay.

Justin Agrelo: Angel says what he and the other guys in CAVE found was more than just a space to vent or unburden themselves. CAVE became a larger community of people who could understand the burden of surviving prison. People who saw each other beyond the mistakes they've made. A community that can hold each other accountable to living a life of nonviolence and change.

A

community they can rely on, both inside and once they're released.[00:18:00] 

Elena and I are visiting the home of CAVE alumni, Raphael Jackson. Thanks for having us. The house is a charming, two-story, single-family home in Chicago's Greater Grand Crossing neighborhood. Rafael and his wife purchased the home in the spring of 2022. Elena has been meaning to visit but hasn't had a chance yet.

Raphael Jackson: That's the office.

Elena Quintana: I don't think there's enough picture of you guys. 

Raphael Jackson: No, we still haven't got to that point. This was taken on your porch. 

Elena Quintana: Love it. 

Justin Agrelo: Raphael is one of CAVE's shining alumni. Similar to Angel, Raphael works inside Stateville Correctional Center, helping to bring art and academic classes to people inside.

We sit down in his office to talk about his past, his time in prison, and his experience with CAVE. I asked Raphael what life was like for him before he went to prison. He says the question is complicated. He takes a moment before starting with a story about his mother. 

Raphael Jackson: So, at that time, [00:19:00] I was living with my mother, it was me, my mother, my sister, my younger brother, and one of our uncles.

So, me and him had a conflict. And when my mother came home, he told my mother, she made me get out the house, put me in the car. With all my clothes and stuff and garbage bag, took me to my grandmother's house, where my father lived at. Took me in a room with my grandmother, dropped the bag off. Told my grandmother to tell my father she raised me for the first 11 years, it’s his job to do the rest, and walked out. 

Justin Agrelo: Raphael says from that moment forward, he had no real supervision. His grandma's house was packed with various family members, and she had little time to care for him. He got involved in the streets and was himself a survivor of gun violence before being incarcerated for a homicide.

Raphael Jackson: When I got arrested for this case, um, my father wouldn't even come to the police station because he told the police that he leaves the state whenever he wants to. So, there's, he's grown, so I'm [00:20:00] not coming to the police station. 

Justin Agrelo: Can I ask, what was that like to hear that your dad said that? 

Raphael Jackson: I don't, I think over the years, um, it was one of the, um, defining moments that, uh, helped me disconnect from everybody.

So, for years already, I felt, I always felt, I was, I always felt alone. Even as a young kid, I never felt like I belonged. 

Justin Agrelo: Rafael

was incarcerated at 16. He served more than 26 years. He originally joined CAVE for its academic potential. Because of his strained relationship with his family, Raphael wanted to learn more about why people do the things that they do. He thought CAVE could be a space to better understand human behavior.

Raphael only saw his [00:21:00] family a handful of times throughout his time inside. At one point, he says he didn't see his mother and father for over 20 years. He got used to life without them.

Everything changed when he received an unexpected visit at Danville. 

Raphael Jackson: I seen my uncle, my auntie, and my cousin walking to the visiting room. Blew my mind, shocked the hell out of me. Really, probably like the next day that I realized just how, like, depressed I was. Never even realized it until the hug that I got from that auntie.

Because one of those long hugs where they don't want to let you go, right? And I haven't experienced, I don't think I've experienced that since my mother, when I was probably about 12, 13 years old. After I got shot, so. 

Justin Agrelo: Raphael says the visit affirms something he also learned through CAVE. That having a community to support you can get you through the hardest of times.

Raphael Jackson: I didn't have anything to come home to. I didn't [00:22:00] have any loved one that had anything for me. When I walked out of jail with $13 in my pocket. After being gone 26 and a half years. They about to take me to a train station and put me on a train to come back to Chicago. With an address to a call to a halfway house that I wouldn't even know how to find.

Justin Agrelo: As Raphael is preparing to be released, a friend suggests he calls Chili and let Chili know he's coming home. 

Raphael Jackson: It was like 7. 45 in the morning, right? And he picked up the phone. And I said, man, I'm finna come home. He said, when? I'm like, right now. He said, I was like, man, just pick me up from the train station.

He's like, all right, cool. I got you. And about an hour and a half, two hours later, I'm sitting in the bullpen, uh, waiting to be taken to a train station. And it was one of the lieutenants saying, Hey Jackson, um, Chili, he didn't say Orlando. He said, Chili's out there to pick you up. I said, what? He said, Chili is outside to pick you up.[00:23:00] 

Justin Agrelo: Instead of meeting Raphael at a train station in Chicago, Chili canceled a meeting he had that day to make the nearly three-hour trek to Danville to pick Raphael up in person. 

Raphael Jackson: And I still didn't really believe it until I walked outside. And he was out there. 

Justin Agrelo: What did he say to you? 

Raphael Jackson: Welcome home. He hugged me.

Welcome home. He smiled. I mean, he was, he was happy to see me. Do you know what it feels like to have somebody happy to see you when you come from a world where people don't show if they're, whether they're happy to see you or not? 

Justin Agrelo: CAVE was a pivotal step in Raphael's journey towards a new future. One where he wasn't so alone in the world.

Raphael Jackson: Everything I was able to do when I walked outta prison is because of the relationships that I developed in that space, right? So that, that is [00:24:00] a powerful network and it has the potential of being an even more, a more even more powerful network.

Justin Agrelo: Evidence of CAVE's success is mostly anecdotal. The group doesn't have the resources to run a formal evaluation of the program because it's completely volunteer run. Elena says the evidence of it working is in the success stories of its alum. More than 16, 000 people left the Illinois Department of Corrections in 2021.

That same year, the Illinois Criminal Justice Information Authority, a state agency examining carceral policies found that nearly 40 percent of people released from prison returned in three years. Elena says no CAVE alum has returned to prison on new charges. 

Elena Quintana: I think that the proof is in the pudding in terms of who the people are who stay there, who've designed it, [00:25:00] who've gotten out of prison, who haven't gone back to prison, and who've made incredible things happen in their own lives, in their own communities, and even beyond community to the city or the state or the nation.

We've had people who have had incredible. jobs and do incredible things, and I'm, I feel very proud of them, and I don't think it would have been as easy to do that without the community they built up during CAVE, without the emotional intelligence they built up during CAVE, um, or without the commitment to growth and change.

Justin Agrelo: For decades, researchers have linked trauma and violence through several different theories. A growing body of literature on adverse childhood experiences has found that exposure to mistreatment during childhood is strongly associated with violent behavior later in life. A paper by the Illinois Criminal Justice Information Authority argues that while most victims of violence don't become [00:26:00] perpetrators, most perpetrators have been victims of violence.

In a separate study, the agency found that nearly a quarter of the men incarcerated in Illinois prisons have levels of PTSD on par with war veterans.

Catherine Boccanegra is an assistant professor at the Jane Addams School of Social Work at the University of Illinois at Chicago. 

Catherine Boccanegra: So, when trauma goes unresolved, you're basically creating like a conveyor belt for that person into the criminal legal system. 

Justin Agrelo: Catherine has spent over 15 years studying community violence. 

Catherine Boccanegra: People who harmed, who have killed other people, I know what happens to them that led to that traumatic, like path of them taking out their pain and their hurt on somebody else, right? Because they had unresolved trauma in their life. So, I saw that cycle play out over and over and over again.

Um, also in like the community violence [00:27:00] intervention space, I'm hearing increasingly people say like, um, healed people heal people. That like, if somebody is able to break free of that vicious cycle of violence and harm that their healing can lend itself to somebody else's liberation from that path of harm and destruction.

Justin Agrelo: Elena is working to bring funding to the group. Without it, they can't expand to other prisons. Nor payout outside facilitators who make sure the program runs smoothly. She put together a bill for the General Assembly in Illinois to add funding for CAVE to the State's budget. The money would fund CAVE in waves and get the program in every prison in Illinois.

Within six years, she called for less than $7 million to be added to the state's budget. But the funding wasn't approved. 

Elena Quintana: And I… I really deeply and personally [00:28:00] grieve that, that we could be doing so much more for so many people that are locked up. And I wonder about what the kinds of values and beliefs are that make that seem like it's not a good risk to fund.

These people are going to come out and be your, your neighbors. Do you want to help them be more functional in the world or do you want them to be people that. are really suffering and having a hard time and having difficulty adjusting to the free world. And I wish people would understand that that small investment is an investment in their own wellbeing.

Justin Agrelo: Angel! 

Angel Pantoja: Hey Justin, what's goin' on? 

Justin Agrelo: Hey, what's going on?

Angel Pantoja: So, as you can see the apartments in the back, where usually the garage would be? 

Justin Agrelo: I'm visiting Angel at his new apartment in Little Village. It's been a [00:29:00] hectic couple of weeks for him. He's moving into his first place at the age of 41.

Angel shows me around the place. It's a small two-bedroom apartment that was recently remodeled. White cabinets and stainless-steel appliances line the kitchen walls. A large, framed poster of Johnny Cash sits on the kitchen counter. 

Are you a Johnny Cash fan?

Angel Pantoja: I am. I love the fact that he went into Folsom State Prison to put on a concert, huh?

Like, it's funny because now you got everybody wanting to be on the side of, you know, people who are incarcerated. We're talking about 1968, just like the poster says. January 13, 1968, he went into Folsom State Prison. In 1960, nobody cared about incarcerated men or women. You know, the funny thing is, people keep telling me, stop, stop collecting stuff from prison.

They're like, you're free now, man, why do you, why do you want that? [00:30:00] It's just a reminder, man, there's still a lot of people in there that are suffering every single day. So, it's a reminder for me to be out here and enjoy it for them, right? Really live. 

Justin Agrelo: The move has been stressful. Angel has had to figure out things like, how do I install utilities?

How do I set up Wi Fi? What questions should I even be asking? Yeah, well, how do you feel to have your own place? 

Angel Pantoja: I don't know, honestly, I don't think, I've been frustrated these last couple days just, Because I couldn't make heads or tails of it. 

Justin Agrelo: Now thinking about it, you're less frustrated. 

Angel Pantoja: I sent my cousin a picture of it.

I said, it's little. It doesn't really look like shit, but it's mine. Right? I'm responsible for the rent. I'm responsible for the bills. I never had that. 

Justin Agrelo: While setting up Wi Fi and utilities might seem trivial to most people, for Angel, they are reminders. Reminders that time has passed. [00:31:00] Reminders of the things he would have known had he not gone to prison.

Reminders of how much left he still has to learn about the world. 

Angel Pantoja: Throughout the day, right, there's these small reminders that, that I missed out on a lot. There's these small reminders that I'm far behind where I feel I should be. I look at myself and I look in the mirror and there's, there's way more gray hair than I'm comfortable with, right? It's a reminder that I'm no longer 17. I understand I'm 41 now, and by 41, my dad had accomplished a lot. And one of the things that, that sort of stands out for me is my dad didn't have nearly the education that I had. He didn't have, there was a, there was a language barrier, and I'm still trying to play catch up.

Justin Agrelo: In his bouts of frustration, Angel returns to the things he learned in that classroom down at Danville. He reminds [00:32:00] himself of the power of grace, not just for others, but for himself too. 

Angel Pantoja: I was filling out a resume the other day, right, just, and I realized that I had accomplished a lot in a year. Right? And I'm like, okay, maybe I, maybe I missed that on 23, but look at all the things that I accomplished in one, right?

If I keep up this pace, like I'll be where I want to be at in no time.

Executive Producer - Maurice Bisaillon: Thank you for joining Change Agents, the podcast series looking at grassroots actions and solutions through stories told from the inside out. Produced by Juneteenth Productions. The music composed by Sara Abdelaal, funding support provided by the Chicago Community Trust, the Field Foundation, and the Wayfarer Foundation.

Additional support provided by the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation and DePaul University's College of [00:33:00] Communication. Subscribe to this podcast on Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, Spotify, and wherever you find podcasts. Follow Change Agents on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, Twitter, and the website changeagentsthepodcast.com.