I want all of you to know that I am passionately committed to the success and development of ALL young people. I believe that we need to invest ON THE FRONT END to ensure that all youth have an opportunity to thrive.

We know however that not all young people are provided with the resources to succeed and some end up caught up in the criminal legal system. If you are a regular reader of this blog, I write about this often.

by Billy Dee

Today, I am asking you to help support a bill that I am passionate about and that I am working very hard to see pass in our legislature in IL. It is called the ‘Clear Up Juvenile Records” act. Here is what we are asking for and I am asking that if you live in IL, you sign this petition to support our efforts:

We the undersigned, demand a simple and inexpensive expungement process to ensure juvenile records are cleared.

The current expungement process is so complicated and expensive that according to the Cook County Clerk of the Circuit Court, Chicago Police arrested 18,287 youth under 17 years old in 2009 and only 437 juvenile records were expunged. The majority of these arrests are for minor offenses.

The failure to automatically clear these arrest records and the difficult process to obtain an expungement holds back youth in their transition to college, in applying for the military, and in seeking employment.

Specifically, we demand:

1.) That no local law enforcement agencies can forward juvenile records to the State Police.

2.) That an individual can petition the court to expunge their juvenile record anytime, for any reason.

Example: A record will be able to be eligible to be expunged if a youth is arrested but the petition is dismissed OR if a petition is never filed

3.) That a juvenile record is automatically expunged if a person is 18 years old and has had two years without an arrest. Law enforcement agencies would be responsible for expunging these records.

4.) To explicitly state the Illinois Human Rights Act to include civil rights violation if employers ask about expunged juvenile records

We encourage Illinois legislators and policy makers to address this critical issue to ensure our youth can successfully move forward in life.

To learn more about juvenile expungement of criminal records, visit the UN-marked Campaign Blog.

UPDATE:
Unfortunately, today (3/3/11) the House Jud II cmte voted against both HB 2841, the juvenile expungement reform bill, and against HB 85, the counsel for youth during interrogation for murder bill. Both votes were 2-5, with only Reps Connie Howard and Annazette Collins voting for the bills. Democratic Reps. Cunningham and McAsey both voted no on both bills. Republican reps Reboletti, Reis and Sacia also voted no on both bills. It is really important to get the word out to folks to let the legislators who opposed these bills know that folks are watching their votes and concerned that bills advancing rights for youth are not moving forward.

I was privileged to organize and moderate an event that included the screening of a new film called Me Facing Life: Cyntoia's Story on Saturday. The event was well-beyond capacity with over 270 people packing the room at the Chicago Cultural Center. The panelists were friends and colleagues who are brilliant and talented. They brought their experience to bear in discussing what the film got right about the plight of girls in conflict with the law and what it got wrong.

Each panelist started off responding to the question: What about the film resonated with you? And they were asked to also elaborate a little on the work they do.

Sharmili, who is the executive director of Rape Victim Advocates, appreciated the complexity shown in the film. She said that people like things to be simple and like black & white issues. She believes that nuance is important in telling stories about people’s lives. Sharmili was particularly struck by the invisibility of the men and boys – we don’t hear from them. There was an absence of the male perpetrators and the men who had influence in Cyntoia’s life – both for good and for bad. Sharmili is tired of hearing people only holding mothers accountable in these stories.

Shobha, who is the project coordinator of the Illinois Coalition for Fair Sentencing of Children, talked about eliminating “life without the possibility of parole” for juveniles. Illinois is a “natural life” state. We need to ask why are we doing this? What are we accomplishing by incarcerating young people for life? For those that work with youth, they can understand that young people cannot even conceive of long-term consequences, so there is no deterrent factor in the sentencing. She pointed out that we are turning children into adults through the court system. This is FICTION. They are not adults. While we learned of the complexity in the film, in our courts there is no complexity. We only get fragments and bits & pieces of the story.

Vikki who a licensed social worker at La Rabida Children\'s Hospital and works with the National Child Traumatic Stress Network thought it was amazing that Cyntoia was alive after all that she’d been through. No one recognized her need for services and intervention early on. She was struck by Cyntoia’s coping skills and emphasized the importance of concentrating on the resilience of young people like Cyntoia. When she encounters young victims of trauma like Cyntoia, the question is: How do they navigate in a world that has hurt them? She also reiterated the importance of focusing on the amazing resilience of young people like Cyntoia who are ‘doing what they feel they have to do to survive.’

LaDonna is with Visible Voices – the speaker’s bureau of CLAIM and speaks publicly about her experiences as a formerly incarcerated mother. LaDonna felt much in common with Cyntoia’s life story, particularly the mental illness stigma. She spoke poignantly and movingly about her own personal struggle with mental illness. She has heard people say “Why can’t you just get it together?” She recognized Cyntoia’s bi-polarity. When 3 generations of mental illness goes unmanaged, it gets worse. With 6 different caregivers in her early life, there was no way for Cyntoia to bond or form lasting attachments. She felt deficient. She reached out to the wrong people and lost trust.

Dominique said that the film describes many stories in one. She was particularly struck by the lack of accountability of the child welfare system. Where were they? Dominique felt that the D.A. in the film was really harsh and she talked about the traumatizing effects of the court experience.

Dominique is one of the founders of Young Women's Empowerment Project. They work with women ages 12 to 24 with experience in the trading sex for money and survival needs. Dominique said that if Cyntoia had YWEP, she wouldn’t be where she is today, and if Dominique hadn’t had YWEP, she’d be in Cyntoia’s shoes. She also made one of the most important points of the day when she underscores the fact that young people like Cyntoia are victimized by a number of institutions. She suggested that institutional violence is prevalent and yet often overlooked in the lives of young people. She previewed YWEP’s work with their “Bad Encounter Line” initiative. You can download the first zine based on reports from YWEP’s BEL here.

I then asked the panel: What did the film get right and what did it get wrong?

Vikki was troubled by the film’s emphasis on borderline personality disorder instead of post-traumatic stress. She felt that the emphasis on genetics and fetal alcohol syndrome is an “easy out”. It disallows culpability beyond the birth mother. She also took basic issue with the diagnosis that was proffered within the film for Cyntoia. She felt that the film missed the boat on understanding and describing the impact of trauma in the lives of young people like Cyntoia.

Shobha felt that the film missed the boat on the systemic problems. Institutions failed Cyntoia repeatedly. Shobha also noted the absence of the men in the film.

LaDonna has never seen a jail or prison that clean. Illinois prisons and county jails are not like that, and neither are any prisons or jails she’s ever heard of. She said that incarceration is an abusive environment. At a moment’s notice you are told to “Squat, Cough and Spread It”. She was mortified to see Cyntoia in solitary. A lot of sexual abuse is committed by guards in solitary because there are no cameras. LaDonna said that you don’t have a name in prison; just a number. It is a scary place to be as a child. She reminded the audience that Cynthia was only 15 when she was first locked up – that she was just a child. LaDonna pointed to the importance of not sanitizing the incarceration experience.

Sharmili added that people make jokes about rape in prison, but a prison sentence should not carry with it a high rate of sexual violence, the bulk of which is committed by prison staff. She urged attendees to support the Prison Rape Elimination Act (HB 1958).
Sharmili talked about all the crimes in the film that went unpunished – rape, human trafficking, pimping. Cyntoia was continually raped for money for her pimp. The 36 names of people she had sex with were 36 rapists and child molesters. Sharmili was making the point that there is selectivity in the type of crimes that we punish in our society and in who we choose to hold to account for “crimes.”

Vikki talked about the lack of advocacy for youth victims of violence. She has seen kids that run away from abuse and get thrown in jail and then get returned to the source of the abuse. They keep putting kids in jail for running away from home and no one bothers to ask them what they’re running away from.

As we closed the discussion, Shobha had these final words of caution: “Once we put someone in the system, we can’t take it back. Think about it”.

I want to thank everyone who was involved in the event particularly the amazing panelists who took the time to educate and share. Thanks to my friend Naomi for collaborating with me on this event and for taking such great notes which helped me to reconstruct what happened.

In the next couple of days, I am going to share some of my thoughts about the perils and promise of humanizing prisoners through storytelling. I have had a couple of experiences over the past few days that underscore the challenges of criminal legal organizing.

Whenever I hear this song, I feel better… I miss NYC.

Remember when Chuck D called rap music Black America’s CNN? Today I find myself lamenting the demise of both rap music and CNN. Much like Captain Ahab, I am elusively seeking a contemporary anthem that speaks to the current movement to dismantle the prison industrial complex.  Since this does not seem to be materializing, I am reflecting on some of my favorite rap songs from the past to glean what I can about prisons and reform instead.

This brings me to the song “I” from Public Enemy’s 1999 album “There’s A Poison Goin On.”  If you have never listened to the entire song, you are missing out.  I am assuming that it can be downloaded (I still operate with CDs so I am dating myself).  Here are some of the lyrics that I wanted to highlight:

Walkin On Broken Bottles & Potato Chip Bags
Everyone I See Got The Nerve To Brag
Where They From What They Got
And Don’t Own Squat
Disrespect Where They From And Ya Might Get Shot
Zombies Askin Me What The Latest Bomb Be
Should Shot The Fuckin Sheriff & The Fuckin Deputy
For Ok In The Drug Trade And Lettin It Be
But I Know Prison For Me Is An Industry
So I Walk

As early as 1999, Chuck D master lyricist and hip hop philosopher was already pointing to the profit-making angle of prisons.  What he prophetic?  No, it’s just that others were behind the curve in calling out Bill Clinton for expanding the reach of the PIC like none of his predecessors had before him.  Friends and colleagues often ask me why I have such antipathy for Bill Clinton.  I look at them like they have LOST their minds. Clinton is the president who accelerated the dismantling of the social safety net with his war on poor people and in particular poor women of color through the passage of his horrible welfare “reform” bill.  Those who were not of age during that time may not know the history of this assault on poor people.  I, however, have not forgotten.  I also clearly remember the principled resignation of Peter Edelman over Clinton’s signing of that law.  [ An aside: Why don’t public officials resign in protest anymore?]  I won’t even speak of the exponential growth of the prison industrial complex under Clinton’s watch and by his design. [It looks like I am speaking about it after all.]   People of color in particular who lionize Clinton are suffering from an acute case of false consciousness. Chuck D’s portrait of urban despair and decay in “I” is a direct result of Clinton’s policies (in addition to Bush I and Reagan).

I Heard The Best Things In Life Be Free
Didn’t God Make The Land The Air We Breathe
Not For The Homeless Don’t Give A Damn About Me
In The Mirror Somebody Else Is Starin At Me
Maybe Prison Is The Skin I’m Within
All This Time I Been Sufferin Can’t Fix It Wit A Bufferin
Plus They Said I’ll Never Work In This Town Again
Damn So I Keep On Walkin

“Maybe prison is the skin I’m within.”  It’s worth lingering over these words.  This lyric has so much resonance for the young people that I work with today.  What does it mean that prison is the skin that so many Americans live in?  The injustice of this reality cannot be overstated.  Prison has become inscribed as the identity of too many Americans (particularly poor ones and racial minorities).  The social problems that this engenders are ones that we have only just begun to recognize and have not yet properly analyzed.

Lil Day Day Is Big Day And Just Did Time
Seen Him Standin On The Unemployment Line
Which Collided Wit The Line Of The Health Clinic
I Seen Crazy Stacy Her Ass Standin Up In It
No More Welfare Cut Her Medicaid
Damn My Mama Used To Do Her Braids
I Keep Walkin So They Don’t See Me
But I Doubt If They Doin Any Better Than Me
So I Walk On Never Take The Planet For Granted
I Paved The Concrete, Asphalt & Granite

Deindustrialization and our current Great Recession have exposed the structural flaw in the American capitalist system.  Manufacturing jobs are gone.  Low-skilled labor is concentrated in the service industries.  Those industries focus on hiring young women and discriminate against young men (in particular those who are of color).  William Julius Wilson, a sociologist at Harvard University, makes the case that employers in the service industries prefer to hire women and white men to present as the face of their companies.  Young black and brown men are discriminated against and find that economic opportunities are shut off to them.  Chuck D speaks to this reality in 1999 and points out how the social safety net has been pulled from vulnerable and needy populations.   What happens to young people abandoned to the wolves in such a way?  How can they survive this war on their lives?  We find the answer in the final words of “I”:

I Walk Past 3 Brothers Sittin On The Porch
Wit A Yard Of Dirt And Littered Wit Newports
Talkin How They Comin Up While They Sittin On Their Ass
As I Walk Past Em I’m A Target Of Their Laughs
And One Said Lets Get Em For His Fuckin Stash
As I Walked Fast Past The Other Yards Wit Grass
Had A Lil Cash Tried To Make It Last
From A Few Deals I Made From Cleanin Windshields
I Ran Like A Rally They Caught Me In An Alley
Can’t Get Out The Ghetto From New York To Cali
I Thought I Had Nuthin Till I Felt The Knife
And Now I Ain’t Even Got A Life

The key to addressing the problem that leads to the criminalization of large numbers of Americans depends on how you answer the following question: “Why Were the 3 Brothers Sittin on the Porch?”

You can read all of the lyrics to the song here.

The following poem comes from a book called Two Hundred Nights and One Day written by Margaret (Peggy) Rozga. Two Hundred Nights is a unique book of poetry that recounts the history of the Milwaukee Open Housing Campaign in 1967. This campaign was led by a civil rights activist named Father James Groppi. He was an Italian man who was a real fighter for human rights. He worked closely with the Milwaukee NAACP. Peggy Rozga marched along with Father Groppi and countless black people. She was also jailed for participating in these freedom marches. Peggy Rozga married Father Groppi and is currently an English professor. I recommend the book to those who are interested in the history of the Civil Rights movement (especially in the North).

As I work on my ongoing police brutality curriculum project, I have been collecting poems, music, stories, etc… This poem is one of the things that I have come across in my research.

Where Lawrence Learns the Law
South 50th Street

Cops were always parked right
in front of the Freedom House.
Saying there were threats against us.
They had to protect us.

Yeah, they protecting us,
but we the only ones going to jail.
One night, they arrested a girl
for throwing her cigarette on the sidewalk.

We went outside to see what was going on,
they arrested us, too. Took us downtown.
Fingerprinted us. Photographed us.
Yeah, for dropping a cigarette.

So we had to return the favor, right?
Drove out to Chief Breier’s house
I’ll never forget that address.

We parked in that all-White neighborhood,
sat out there all night. Guarding the Chief of Police.
Hey, there’d been threats against him.
We didn’t want anything to happen to him.

Next night we’re out there again.
What thanks do we get?
We’re arrested
for guarding the chief of police
without a private detective’s license.

I quickly wrote about a situation that I was presented with a couple of days ago. I am so moved by the response that I have received from friends and readers. All I can say is thank you for your kindness and words of encouragement. This work can be grinding and some days feel futile. I was particularly feeling that sense of futility a couple of days ago.

Your responses to me via e-mail and by phone helped to restore my spirits and lifted my energy level. Thank you again.

A short update on the situation…

The friends who I reached out to have been terrific. The family peacemaking circle is set for next Tuesday. They have even agreed to accompany the young man and his family to court next week.

Whenever I start to feel overwhelmed by the magnitude of what we are facing in terms of the prison industrial complex, I try to remember that ultimately it is individual relationships that provide solace and support. These relationships are key to making change. One person at a time can be slow and feel inadequate to the scale and scope of the problem. Yet this is what I could do a couple of days ago. This is what I could offer.

One of my very best girlfriends is a talented photographer. She sent me this video that captures a presentation by Jonathan Klein at the TED Conference. It is worth a few minutes to watch this powerful talk:

After watching this presentation, I became even more convinced of the importance of making mass incarceration more visible to the general public through the use of imagery. Check out this amazing photo essay by Steve Liss called No Place for Children for inspiration to join the struggle for real “justice.”

I have been getting e-mails from various readers of this blog over the past few months. In keeping with my commitment to try to feature more voices from people who are directly impacted by the PIC, I want to share the following story that I received this week. I asked the young man who reached out to me for permission to post his words here. He agreed. I hope that everyone who reads this will think of a way that you might help a young person in your own neighborhood to escape the clutches of our racist, classist, and heterosexist criminal legal system.

Here are his words:

I’ve overcome everything in my life, from growing up and attending underfunded public schools to eventually dropping out and continuing my schooling on my own. I’ve had two major surgeries before I was 17 and struggled through a period of intense depression. Now I’m a struggling college student trying to attain his first BA in Biology and eventually my masters, I hope to be a biochemist one day.

The only problem is that I was born into the wrong neighborhood, the wrong income bracket, and most importantly the wrong skin color.

I’m a Hispanic male teen between the ages of 16-25, standing 6’0 tall. To the police in my neighborhood I’m not a student or a lifelong community member, I am simply another suspect. I’ve been pulled over and harassed for riding my bike in my own neighborhood, and 8 months ago I was arrested down my very own street. Caught in a police perimeter, I was subject to various police pulling their weapons on me and my friend, while helicopters buzzed overhead. Then a police car holding the victim pulled up 40 ft away and she identified the two hispanic males who had robbed her house earlier, she identified me and my friend, no one else was ever brought before the victim except us two. It didn’t matter that this police perimeter was not for the burglary suspect but actually for a armed gunman. It didn’t matter that I didn’t fit the clothes description given by the victim, or that she was “94% sure” whatever the hell that means.

It only got worse, at our preliminary trial, I brought my witness who I had been with until she dropped me off near my home. In court, a police officer from her neighborhood took it upon himself, 5 months after the fact, to ID her as the third suspect. It didn’t matter that the ID was for a male driving a car that none of us had access to or that before being ID’d the victim said to police she did not recognize anyone in the courtroom, she was still interviewed brought back in, and once seen next to an officer the victim changed her mind and gave a positive ID. She was promptly arrested and is now my co-defendant.

Now I am out 9,000 dollars that was aimed to my college tuition, I have no witnesses, and I’ll be held to account for my actions in 2 weeks. The only crime I was guilty of was being the first Hispanic male seen by police, to justify the excessive use of police resources and time, the many helicopters, countless police cruisers they have been twisting the facts of our case to justify a conviction.

The system has aimed to take my freedom, to make me another statistic. I am fighting to stay free, to hold onto my rights which can be stripped away if I was to be labeled a felon. But the system may win. Freedom to me is the pursuit of enlightenment and attaining a higher education. Regardless, if I am found not guilty, they have already taken steps to cripple my freedom. I’ll be forced to work a dead end job to pay off my bail and pay back my parents, to work to rebuild what the system took from me, the chance to actually become something.

This is just another story to add to the epic of injustice.

I live in Chicago and am fascinated by the history of this city. I have been immersed over the past few years in reading and learning about juvenile justice in Chicago.

In 1920, African American youth accounted for 12.2 percent of the total arrests for juvenile delinquency in Chicago; this increased to 21.2 percent in 1930. Irene McCoy Gaines, a prominent Colored Women’s Club member, made the case in the 1920s that the unwillingness of white employers to hire black people was significantly contributing to the increase in juvenile delinquency in Chicago:

On account of scarcity of work, thousands are forced into increased idleness…the colored youth is tried at the bar and judged guilty of idleness, worthlessness, crime, and vice, and is condemned by the very jurors who forced upon him the idleness that caused his ruin…failure to educate and protect the youth is to intensify the problems of ignorance, crime, and poverty which handicap the advancement of all society.

In 1920, Chicago was steeped in a severe recession. Unemployment throughout the city, hit blacks particularly hard. Employment conditions were related to juvenile delinquency in a few ways. Young blacks in Chicago had a difficult time finding jobs. They were then likely to spend their time hanging out on the streets and thus more prone to find trouble. Judge Edgar Jones, in a speech in front of the Wabash Ave Y.M.C.A. offered that of the 1,500 black males who appeared in the juvenile court during the first ten months of 1925, almost all had said that they had “no place for recreation except for pool rooms and the streets.” For those living in Chicago today, ask yourself how different the situation is for young black people. I would submit, not much.

Youth who could find no work were also likely to get involved in criminal activities in order to financially survive and contribute to their families. In the 21st century, the economic plight of Chicago’s youth is still precarious. Last year, the Chicago Reporter published an article about the severe and chronic unemployment among youth on the West Side of Chicago in particular:

In 2008, 18,600 of the 35,700 people between ages 16 and 30 in a census region that includes East Garfield Park, Humboldt Park, North Lawndale and West Garfield Park had not worked during the previous five years or longer, according to a Chicago Reporter analysis of census data.

The figure of 52 percent was the nation’s highest. A region of Mississippi that includes Tallahatchie County, where the body of Chicago-area native Emmett Till was found in 1955, came second, with 50 percent.

The second highest rate of long-term unemployment in Chicago was recorded in a South Side region that includes Auburn Gresham, Englewood, Washington Heights and West Englewood. In 2008, 14,700 of 36,000 residents there between ages 16 and 30—or 41 percent—had not worked during the previous five years or longer.

This situation is urgent and the crisis is grave. I don’t understand how we can expect young people who are literally locked out of the opportunity structure to survive without employment prospects. We should not then be surprised when some turn toward illicit means to ensure their survival.

by Billy Dee

A friend called this morning. She’s been working with a family whose son is preparing to go to prison. The lawyers have agreed to a plea bargain. He will serve three years. All that is left is for the deal to be certified. In the meantime, he just waits.

The young man is 19. He committed his offense at 17. It’s been 2 years in the system. The closer he gets to being locked up the more depressed he becomes. He wants to kill himself.

Those of us who work in some proximity to the criminal legal system often focus on the arrest, the court proceeding, the actual incarceration and sometimes re-entry. Yet it occurred to me this morning that I personally pay very little attention to that moment right before a person is about the walk into prison for the first time.

Today I was reminded of yet another terrible aspect of incarceration: the time right before the prison gates close the first time. What must this be like?

My friend spoke of the fear that this young man is currently experiencing; debilitating apprehension. His family is equally beside itself. My friend asked me for resources that might help this young man. I was distressed to tell her that I know of none.

I offered some ideas. They seemed woefully inadequate. I suggested that I would reach out to some formerly incarcerated young men so that they could share their experiences with him. Perhaps they could tell him what their first night in prison was like. Maybe they could share how they survived. I know, I know that this is cold comfort. Someone else’s experience can’t replace your own. You have to smell the smells, you have to taste the food, you have to experience the loneliness…. No one else can do your time. But…

Still I want to offer something to this teenager. I want to tell him that his life is not over; no matter how he is feeling today. I want to tell his family that the best thing they can do for him is not to forget him on the inside; to keep contact (letters, visits if they can afford them). One of the tragedies of incarceration is the sense among prisoners that they have been foresaken.

So I made some phone calls and two friends who are former prisoners have agreed to take part in a peace circle with this young man and his family. I am hopeful that the circle will provide him with a sense that he is cared for, will show him that he will not be forgotten, and will arm him with more information about the general experience of being locked up from the perspective of people who have done their time. I know, I know that this falls so short.

Ultimately, I feel helpless today. I really feel helpless today.