Word of the week: Fish
Word: Fish
Pronunciation: /ˈfish/
Plain definition:
A fish is a term used to describe someone newly arriving in prison. This is usually a first-timer who hasn’t yet learned the routines, language, or culture of incarceration. For those inside already part of the system these individuals stick out loudly & clearly due to their lack of knowledge combined with a fear of wanting to survive & following protocols of surviving in a typical prison environment. These so called fish adapt to survive in these prison environments which then leads to all kinds of longterm mental health related issues created by prison systems without positive polices & humanizing practices that teach & repair individuals instead of locking them up and throwing away the keys.
How it’s used:
When someone first comes through intake or arrives on the unit, other residents might call them a fish. It identifies them as a new person on the block or someone still figuring out how things work essentially. Sometimes the word is neutral, even teasing in a friendly way; other times, it can be used to test or challenge a person’s composure. Historically, being labeled a fish could mean your fair game for manipulation or intimidation. But in prison environments guided by using humanizing practices this is more of a fun tease and positive leadership and peer mentorship, will lead to friendly guidance, not exploitation unlike years past. This of course is in an environment like the M.D.O.C. where people act more like human beings instead of like animals which is how people are treated in prisons outside ME.
Where you’ll see it:
You’ll hear fish in nearly every correctional setting, especially intake units or reception areas where first-timers are processed. It’s also one of the most recognizable pieces of prison slang in pop culture — often used in films or books to portray vulnerability or naivety when someone first enters incarceration. Inside modern correctional environments, especially those influenced by the Maine Model of Corrections (MMOC), the focus has shifted toward support, stability, and mentorship for those early days. The concepts of the M.M.O.C. are not only new & innovative but they work. They tend to treat people inside in a human way which has not been the case over my 30 yrs inside and it is a step in the right direction. Treating people inside like humans makes them want to do positive things more so than not which works on making the Restorative Justice aspect so heavily utilized in ME come into play. This leads to all kinds of positive things taking shape never before seen in these prison environments outside of the occasional fluke. The violence has decreased to a standstill and recidivism rates are also decreasing in Maine which is something that has rarely happened anywhere in the US since the start of prisons shaping the country as we know it today.
Risks & concerns:
Culture shock: Entering a prison setting for the first time can be traumatic and isolating without guidance.
Exploitation: New arrivals can be targeted if they lack understanding of how things work or who to trust.
Safety: Not knowing informal or institutional expectations can lead to unintentional conflict.
Adjustment stress: First-timers often face emotional overload, fear, and uncertainty.
Culture shock: Entering a prison setting for the first time can be traumatic and isolating without guidance.
Human note:
The word fish has always said a lot about both the person being labeled — and the system they’re entering. It speaks to vulnerability, learning, and survival. Everyone who’s ever done time remembers their first days: the confusion, the noise, the unknown. In the past, that label often meant weakness or fresh opportunity for others to take advantage. But in facilities working under the Maine Model of Corrections, the meaning is starting to shift — from prey to peer, from target to trainee. Today, many residents who’ve walked the hard road are using that experience to mentor, educate, and help new people find their footing.
Gordon’s perspective:
Back before the Maine Model of Corrections took root, the word fish carried a different kind of weight. A new guy meant easy pickings or someone to school the hard way. The old environment was built on survival and separation. Now, things look and feel different. Residents have more to lose — jobs, programs, education, living situations and trust or relationships they’ve worked hard to build over time which changes everything. Under M.M.O.C., helping a fish isn’t about control; it’s about showing peers there is a better way to do time that leads to your success & happyness. You see more people teaching, guiding, and encouraging instead of testing or fighting. The positive doors the M.M.O.C. have opened gave residents a reason to walk a different path than in days past which helps lead others in the right direction alongside there own paths. That shift doesn’t just make daily life better; it builds a foundation for success beyond these walls that lowers recidivism. By teaching what accountability, community, responsibility alongside rewarding good behavior is a recipe for success for those inside struggling to find the right path in life after making mistakes they cannot take back.
Practical takeaway:
If someone refers to a loved one as a fish, understand that it marks a period of transition and learning. These early months are where strong mentorship, stability, and constructive engagement matter most. Advocates and staff should look for ways to connect new arrivals with positive peer support, orientation programs, and meaningful activity. In a well-functioning system, the fish stage isn’t something to survive — it’s where transformation begins!
