I am really excited about an upcoming series of events about policing, violence, and resistance that I am currently organizing. The events kick off on March 18th and include an art exhibit designed by my friend Billy Dee that opens on March 19th. I am excited that we will have several pieces of art created by youth. Throughout this week, I plan to share some of the artwork that will be on display from March 19-29.

We begin with art by Anderson Chaves who is a member of LuchArte here in Chicago.

Artist Statement:

“Life”
Anderson Chaves
Acrylic on Canvas

Fifteen-year-old Anderson grew up in Cicero and is a sophomore at Morton West High School. He wants to attend college but is unsure at this point what he wants to study. Psychology, business, and art are interests of his but he has a lot of things on his mind. He isn’t sure where to go or what to concentrate his ideas on. One thing for sure is that he is a dreamer and is committed to following through with his word.

The painting symbolizes him in the center, kneeling down to the ground. The cloud above represents his dreams of what he wants to accomplish in the future- graduation, having a family, painting, and earning his diploma. Below, on the ground, resembles items from his past, but in a way are still his present: a gun, a knife, alcohol bottles, and money. As Anderson is trying to get better and recover from his past, it takes him a long time to get there. However, it takes the officer as little as 30 seconds to push him down and make him feel like a criminal.

On the side of the painting there is a tree without leaves or branches, which represents death. The scene is depicted at night, because life looks differently when the sun goes down in his neighborhood- the kids stop playing in the streets and gunshots resound. Stabbings, shootings, and alcoholism are rampant. The cops are more likely to harass him at night, because no witnesses are present to defend him.

Anderson is depicted clutching a rosary because it is the thing that has helped him the most. In order to get through the day and to get to his future and what he wants to do with his life, he depends on God to carry him. If he could say one thing to the viewer of this painting: God works in mysterious ways.

I read all of the time and am always coming across interesting snippets of information including quotes, etc… Sometimes I file them away for a future post. Other times I just lose the information and then kick myself for not taking down some notes.

I’ve decided to share these loose notes on the blog as a way to catalogue them for potential future use or reflection.

Today’s quotes and snippets are from the October 19, 1970 issue of the Liberated Guardian. A friend just mailed a few copies of the newspaper to me because he knew that I would appreciate them. And I do. Thanks Eric!

Below is the opening paragraph of an article titled “Revolt Explodes in City Prisons.” The article covers a series of uprisings that took place at several New York City jails starting on October 2, 1970. Two of the most famous of these revolts are ones that take place at the Queens House of Detention and at the Tombs located in lower Manhattan. [Interestingly several of the key organizers of these prison rebellions are transferred to Attica prison & become leaders of the Attica Uprising less than a year later].

Everyday in New York’s black ghettos, and where unemployed whites hang around bars and get into fights, an occupying army of policemen makes sweeping dragnet arrests. You get busted for carrying a knife, for assaulting a cop, for haggling with storeowners, for punching it out with a guy who cheats at dice, for taking a joyride in someone else’s car. If you don’t get shot or killed by the cops, you are hauled to a precinct house, then booked on some charge and carried in a crowded fetid police van to a city lock-up… to wait for trial. Sometimes you wait for two years. You wait where there is no light and no air, no protein, no real beds. Where there are guards who won’t tell the prison doctor when you need medicine. Rats and roaches and garbage encrust the walls and the halls. Your body stops thinking about nourishment. You are denied access to law books but you don’t have the energy to read them anyway. Your bail is so high you don’t even dream about getting out on bail. If you’re Latin and don’t speak English, you couldn’t understand the law books to begin with. Or talk with your state appointed lawyer if you ever got one. You are at the bottom. You are an animal.

The following excerpt (which I love) also appears in the article:

Q: What is your name?
A. I am a revolutionary.
Q: What are you charged with?
A. I was born black.
Q: How long have you been in?
A. I’ve had troubles since the day I was born.

Robert Black, black prisoner-negotiator in a dialogue with a reporter at the negotiations.

“The American judicial system is bankrupt. In so far as black people are concerned, it has proven itself to be one more arm of a system carrying out the systematic oppression of our people. We are the victims, not the recipients of justice (Angela Davis, 1970).”

I witnessed a young person break down in court about a month ago. It was devastating. I am still shaken by the experience and I can’t write about it because it isn’t my story to tell. In addition, I try as much as I can to avoid too many posts about the connections between my vocation and my emotions. Today’s post, then, will be exceptional.

I’ve decided to take a break from going to court. It became clear that it was time to step away when I found myself fantasizing last week about standing on my seat and screaming at the top of my lungs: “We Accuse, We Accuse, We Accuse.” I became concerned when I realized that I was actually in the process of standing up during court proceedings before I caught myself and abruptly sat back down. My fantasies threatened to get the best of me. I knew that it was time for a hiatus. Sometimes, things fall apart…

I talked to a friend yesterday. Ze is a youth worker and we spoke about burning out. Ze said that this past week had been difficult. It wasn’t the day-to-day trials and tribulations of working with youth in real crisis that put ze over the edge. It was a few words expressed by one young person that did it: “You know a lot of these kids aren’t going to make it, don’t you?” That was it. It was the last straw in a week with an accumulation of small and big stresses. Sometimes, things fall apart…

I’ve been thinking a lot about the young person’s words and I’ve been thinking about self-delusion. In order to do the work that my friend and I do, we have to override the voices that sometimes tell us that all may be lost for a particular young person. We have to fight against despair and more importantly against giving up hope. It is difficult when we know what the odds are for some of the youth with whom we work. Structural oppression combines with their sometimes unhealthy responses to it to make survival uncertain, precarious. Sometimes, things fall apart…

Some young people are in the process of committing slow-motion suicide. I am a witness to it. There, I said it. It’s hard for me to write the words. It feels like giving in. Sometimes it’s difficult to find the right words to make a difference. I conjure Gwendolyn’s spirit and ask her to transfer some of her strength into me. What would she say to these young people?

Sit down. Inhale. Exhale.
The gun will wait. The lake will wait.
The tall gall in the small seductive vial
will wait will wait:
will wait a week: will wait through April.
You do not have to die this certain day.” –
(From: To The Young Who Want To Die by Gwendolyn Brooks)

Sometimes, things fall apart…

I can’t find the words for that young woman who has no sense of herself but insists (with false bravado) that she is the most beautiful person on the planet. It’s clear to anyone with eyes and ears and a heart that she doesn’t believe a word that is coming out of her mouth. I don’t have any more words right now. What would Lucille say to this young woman?

listen,
woman,
you not a no place
anonymous
girl;
mister with his hands on you
he got his hands on
some
damn
body!
(From: what the mirror said by Lucille Clifton)

Sometimes, I fall apart…

When I was much, much younger, I used to love fairytales. All of them. I loved a happy ending. Now as a grown woman, I’ve retired my love of fairytales. But I still love happy endings (however rare they are). I cling to the idea that transformation is possible. I believe that structural change is possible. If I didn’t, I couldn’t get up in the morning to do the work that I do every day. But today is hard for me so I ask Michelle for help:

And tomorrow when there are people to comfort you,
or you find those damned keys,
Return to the same well versed competent woman you are.
Hold your head up.
Breathe deeply.
Return to your life unmarred, recovered and complete.

As though none of it ever happened.
As though none of it could ever happen.
Ever.
(From: For Strong Women by Michelle T. Clinton)

I’m tired. It will pass. Tomorrow I will glue the pieces back together…

I am featuring more terrific work by my friend Rachel Marie Crane-Williams for Women’s History Month. This is her comic titled Women & the Prison Industrial Complex (PDF).

From the Dignity in Schools Campaign:

On Monday, March 4th, youth of color from across the country held a rally on the grounds of the U.S. Capitol followed by a march to the White House to call on Congress and the Obama administration to reject school safety policies that criminalize students of color, immigrant youth, LGBTQ students and students with disabilities, and push them out of school.

Dignity in Schools Campaign (3/4/13)

Youth and parent leaders from states including California, Georgia, Mississippi, New York, and Washington, DC gathered to give testimony about the impact of increased police presence, armed guards, metal detectors and zero tolerance discipline policies in their schools and communities and to demand that the voices of youth of color be included in the conversation on gun violence prevention and school safety.

Speakers urged legislators and the White House to focus on investing in proven positive approaches to discipline like Positive Behavior Intervention and Supports (PBIS), social and emotional learning, Restorative Justice, and the hiring and training of counselors, social workers, and community intervention workers.

The rally began at 4pm with an opening speech by Jasmine Jauregui, a youth organizer with the Youth Justice Coalition from Los Angeles, “We all traveled many miles to share the solutions that communities and students of color are proposing because we strongly believe that the solutions coming from Congress are not what will keep us safe. We have seen how attempts to increase school safety with armed guards, police and prison-like conditions have failed. We want to be certain that no student gets left behind in the legal system. We demand college prep, not prison prep”.

Please read Jasmine Jauregui’s opening speech. It is excellent. Here is video of her speech as well.

You can also listen to this radio report about the rally.

Colorlines also produced a terrific video of youth speaking about these issues.

Over the past couple of days, a column by Ta-Nehisi Coates in the New York Times has made the rounds on social media. In it, Coates basically makes the case that racism is endemic to American democracy. He followed up that column with a post on his blog expanding on his premise this morning. He writes:

“Racism was created by policy. It will likely only be ultimately destroyed by policy. That is hard to take. If Forrest Whitaker sticks out in that deli for reasons of individual mortal sin, we can castigate the guy who frisked him and move on. But if he — and others like him — stick out for reasons of policy, for decisions that we, as a state, have made, then we have a problem. Then we have to do something beyond being nice to each other.”

These words owe an intellectual debt to one of the best thinkers about American racism that the United States has ever produced: Stokely Carmichael (later Kwame Ture). Carmichael has long been a touchstone for me and I return to his writing often. In a speech that he gave in July 1967 in London at the Congress on the Dialectics of Liberation, he outlines the difference between individual and institutional racism. Early on in his speech, he says:

“I’m a political activist. I don’t deal with the individual, I think it’s a cop out when people talk about the individual. What we’re talking about around the United States today, and I believe around the Third World, is the system of international white supremacy coupled with international capitalism. We’re out to smash that system.”

Carmichael is essentially making the point that to focus on the individual obscures the structural nature of oppression. We need to keep our eyes squarely on the root causes of oppression in order to have any chance to uproot and transform it.

Below I will quote extensively from the speech because I believe that what he has to say is as relevant today as it was in 1967 and since we’re apparently talking about racism (for at least one more day), I think that his words are instructive:

So I’m not going to talk about the individual. For one thing it will be seen that the black man’s alienation is not an individual question, it is a question of socio-diagnostics. The Negro problem does not resolve itself into the problem of individual Negroes living among white men, but rather of Negroes as a class that is exploited, enslaved, and despised by the colonialist, capitalist society, which is only accidentally white. But since it is accidentally white, that’s what we talk about — white Western society.

The other reason why I won’t talk about the individual is that whenever you raise questions about racial problems to white Western society, each white man says: “Well, don’t blame me, I’m only one person and I really don’t feel that way. Actually I have nothing against you, I see you as an equal. You’re just as good as I am — almost.” I want to clear that up — to point out the difference between individual racism and institutionalized racism.

The first type, individual racism, consist of overt acts by individuals, and usually the immediate result is the death of the victim, or the traumatic and violent destruction of property. This type can be recorded on T.V. cameras and can frequently be observed in the process.

The second type is less overt, far more subtle, less identifiable in terms of specific individuals committing the acts, but it is no less destructive of human life. It’s part of the overall operation of established and respected forces in the society, so it doesn’t receive the condemnation that the first type does.

Let me give you an example of the first type. When unidentified white terrorists bomb a black church and kill five black children, that is an act of individual racism, widely deplored by most segments of the world. But when in that same city, Birmingham, Alabama, not five but five hundred black babies die each year because of lack of proper food, shelter and medical facilities, and thousands more are destroyed and maimed physically, emotionally and intellectually because of conditions of poverty and discrimination in the black community, that is a function of institutionalized racism. When a black family moves into a home in a white neighborhood, and it is stoned, burned or routed out, that latter is an overt act of individual racism, and many people condemn that, at least in words. But it is institutionalized racism that keeps the black people locked in dilapidated slums, tenements, where they must live out their daily lives subject to the prey of exploitative slum landlords, merchants, loan sharks and the restrictive practices of real-estate agents. We’re talking now about the U.S., but I think you can apply a little of it to London. But the society either pretends it does not know of institutionalized racism, or is incapable of doing anything meaningful about the conditions of institutionalized racism. And the resistance to doing anything meaningful about institutionalized racism stems from the fact that Western society enjoys its luxury from institutionalized racism, and therefore, were it to end institutionalized racism, it would in fact destroy itself.

Carmichael’s words speak for themselves so they need no additional commentary from me. One only needs to look at today’s job numbers to understand of what he speaks.

Thanks to the magic of the internet, you should watch this report about a roundtable at the Congress on the Dialectics of Liberation that included Carmichael:

“In the summer of 1967, the Congress of the Dialectics of Liberation brought together in London critical theorists, political activists, poets, Marxists, anarchists, existential psychiatrists, and a broad spectrum of other leftist and countercultural figures, among them C. L. R. James, Paul Goodman, Allen Ginsberg, Angela Davis, Lucien Goldmann, and Gregory Bateson. Organized by David Cooper and R. D. Laing, both of whom were prominent figures in the 1960s anti-psychiatry movement that counted Foucault and Deleuze among its most recognizable adherents, the conference was devoted to a wide-ranging engagement with a diverse range of leftist issues, including debates on the future of capitalism, the role of violence in modern dissent, the possibility of revolution and liberation, and nascent forms of radical ecology and environmentalism. The intended purpose of the conference was to bring together leading leftist figures in an effort to create, as its organizers hoped, “a genuine revolutionary consciousness by fusing ideology and action on the levels of the individual and of mass society.”1 (Source: Brian Thill)

Every week, I get an email or some inquiry from someone who wants confirmation about a particular “fact” related to mass incarceration. I thought that I would tackle two “facts” that are in fact urban legends.

1. Myth: Prisons use third grade test scores to determine future number of prison beds needed. Fact: Not True.

This urban legend will not die mainly because there is in fact a correlation between educational attainment and incarceration… Reporter Bill Graves tried to get to the bottom of the mythhere.

In the Atlantic, John Hudson offers provocative take: “So while the idea that prison planners are reading your children’s test scores is false, maybe it shouldn’t be.”

2. Myth: There are more black men in prison than in college. Fact: Not True.

I have no idea where this myth came from but it is and has been persistent & is pernicious. It is simply FALSE. Below is a useful chart that illustrates the fallacy.

Here’s another illustration based on point in time data:

Read more about this myth here

So now that you know, please help us to bury these talking points.

I came across a copy of Hands Off!! A Quarterly Forum of Bay Area Women Against Rape from Fall 1981. It was fascinating to read in part because it is unfathomable that any of the articles would appear in a newsletter of today’s mainstream anti-sexual assault or domestic violence organizations. It highlights the difference between an anti-violence movement and what we have today which is a social service field. Throughout the publication, there is an explicit effort to downplay involvement and cooperation with law enforcement. Times have surely changed… Regular readers are well aware of my thoughts about the anti gender-based violence “movement’s” embrace of the carceral state. The article below featuring information about the Black Women’s Anti-Violence Project underscores the reality that community accountability approaches for addressing harm are not new.

It’s 11:30 p.m. — the crisis line rings. A panicky Elaine C. explains as small, shrieking voices confirm the scene: someone’s beaten her, raped her. She’s badly bruised, bleeding, hurting all over.

Embarrassed witnesses turn away; friends sympathize, but can’t see a way to help. Nowhere to turn.

But Elaine’s seen a number — 652-0339 — the Black Women’s Anti-Violence Project, organized by Black women for Black women who experience rape, incest or beatings. She called.

The Problem

Combating violence against Black women is a complicated matter. A Black woman’s initial response to violence, generally, is to turn to police systems — an historical enemy. For a Black woman, calling the police amounts to compounding the violence, confronting authorities that rarely help, confuse issues and generally aggravate an already bad situation.

But now there is an alternative: The Black Women’s Anti-Violence Project (BWAVP), a group of East Bay women who believe it takes Black women — with knowledge of community resources and response strategies — to help other Black women.

Mary Mathis, project co-founder, explained: “There are enemies in our communities. Black women are not one of them. And we cannot afford to cast Black men as an enemy, either. Black women are the only people with legitimate motives, perspective and information to address the rising incidence of violence against us.”

Mathis continued: “The daily Black experience confirms and contributes to growing fears, resentments, frustration and rage. Oftentimes that emotion wells over into violence generally targeting those even more vulnerable: Black women and Black children.”

But there is another important reason to stop the violence that goes beyond even the critical concern for individual safety and family unity.

“Violence against Black women serves the broad purpose of supremacists thought: as long as Black men and Black women battle one another, a People remain divided. A People, so preoccupied, cannot focus attention on their true enemy. So a divided people, in essential terms, is a conquered People. We must face this; we must stop this,” Mathis concluded.

Services

BWAVP assists Black women survivors of incest, rape and battery in three ways: (1) by offering counseling that meets personal needs for support, self-validation and objective insight; (2) by presenting self-protection and self-help workshops as a means of ending the violent embrace; and (3) by directing women to specific resources serving targeted needs.

The Project crisis line connects callers with trained Black women ready to deal with current violence and help identify ways to prevent future violence.

“Many of our Project volunteers are survivors of rape, incest or beatings who found ways to protect themselves. We’ve organized to share strategies with women who aren’t aware of ways to protect themselves,” commented Joyce Penalver, Project co-founder.

BWAVP offers callers a complete picture of community services and resources, but certain involvements, such as police system involvements, are downplayed.

“The Project emphasizes strategies to heighten community awareness of the impact of rape, incest, and battery and to refocus this aggression on its true target,” stated Joyletta Alice, Project co-founder. “It would be self-sabotage and patently ridiculous to encourage involvements serving non-productive purposes.”

BWAVP provides free, confidential information and services to Black women of all ages, communities, and lifestyles. The goal is to unite Black women around a shared concern: violence against our person.

BWAVP is recruiting Black women interested in acting for the benefit of all Black women. Call 652-0339 for service information, counseling and details on how to get involved.

One immediately notices the importance placed on the fact that BWAVP volunteers are survivors of violence. This is seen as a value-added. Today, the anti-violence field has become so professionalized that some agencies actually discourage survivor disclosures. Also, the BWAVP welcomes survivors of sexual AND domestic violence. This seems quaint today but there was a time when women tried to address violence holistically. Today we have rape crisis centers and domestic violence organizations who operate separately and rarely intersect. In real life though, most of us do not experience violence in silos… The excerpt is so rich that I can go on for several more paragraphs analyzing it but I will stop here.

My friend, the brilliant Dr. Beth Richie, has written a wonderful book titled Arrested Justice: Black Women, Violence, and America’s Prison Nation. The book addresses the anti-violence against women & girls movement’s embrace of the carceral state. You can watch Beth speaking last week at a conference at the University of Berkeley about these issues:

There is a screening of the new documentary Free Angela Davis & All Political Prisoners this evening. I will be speaking on a panel after the film. Details are here. The screening is free.

In keeping with the theme of the last few days, I wanted to share this excerpt that underscores Davis’s commitment to black women’s liberation.

“The battle for women’s liberation is especially critical with respect to the effort to build an effective black liberation movement. For there is no question about the fact that as a group, black women constitute the most oppressed sector of society.

Historically we were constrained not only to survive on an economic level as slaves, but our sexual status was that of a breeder of property for the white slave master as well as being the object of his perverse sexual desires. Our enemies have attempted to mesmerize us, to mesmerize black people, by propounding a whole assortment of myths with respect to the black woman. We are inveterate matriarchs, implying we have worked in collusion with the white oppressor to insure the emasculation of our men. Unfortunately, some black women have accepted these myths without questioning their origin and without being aware of the counter-revolutionary content and effect. They’re consequently falling into behind-the-scenes positions in the movement and refuse to be aggressive and take leadership in our struggle for fear of contributing to the oppression of the black male.

As black women, we must liberate ourselves and provide the impetus for the liberation of black men from this whole network of lies around the oppression of black women, which serve only to divide us, thus impeding the advance of our total liberation struggle…

Source: Angela Davis speaks from jail, Muhammad Speaks, 1970

Incident
by Countee Cullen

For Eric Walrond

Once riding in old Baltimore,
Heart-filled, head-filled with glee,
I saw a Batimorean
Keep looking straight at me.

Now I was eight and very small,
And he was no whit bigger,
And so I smiled, but he poked out
His tongue, and called me, “Nigger.”

I saw the whole of Baltimore
From May until December;
Of all the things that happened there
That’s all that I remember.