This is not a poem.
The words simply wanted to be written this way…

For K…
[To be read on your 16th birthday
or maybe never]

The cops
won’t care
that you are
the sweetest
boy.

You are
BLACK,
unperson.

This fact
and
nothing else
means
you are
marked.

They
can/
could/
might
kill
you
dead.

Any time,
any where,
any way.

I am
a liar.

As I type
these words,
I’m looking
at a photograph
of your
precious
BLACK
face
and so
I’m going
to lie.

I’ve been
trying
to write
a letter.
It’s been
too long
in coming.
It’s futile
so
I’ve given up.

You asked me
about
the police
while we were
eating
hamburgers.

You said
you were
scared
they might
not know
you were
a nice
person
and that
in their
ignorance,
they might
hurt
or
kill you.

Read more »

I read a version of this post as a working paper. I was browsing the internet and came across it. I wrote to the paper’s author who graciously shared her work. After reading it, I asked if she’d allow me to post a version of her paper on this blog. She agreed and below is an edited version of her argument.  I am grateful to Jasmine for allowing me to share this post with you. Don’t forget that this is the week of action to free Marissa Alexander. Details are here. Also, if you can, please donate to her legal defense here.

On Marissa Alexander and the Politics of Defenseless Defense[i] 

by Jasmine Montgomery

This is my life I’m fighting for. This is my life. And it’s my life, and it’s not entertainment. This is my life. If you do everything to get on the right side of the law, and it’s a law that does not apply to you, where do you go from there?

Marissa Alexander spoke these words in a 2011 interview shortly after her sentencing. For a long time, they were the only access a public confronting the injustice of her case had to Alexander’s voice, thoughts, suffering, and resistance to the denial of her right and her truth — from the rejection of her pretrial motion seeking immunity from prosecution through the appellate court’s affirmation of the pretrial judgment and reversal of the trial judgment and the subsequent, months-long struggle over her pre-trial release. It’s from a position of believing and listening to Alexander that our political mobilizations to defend and free her, to advance an analysis of relations and structures of power that produce vulnerability, and to imagine a world transformation in which racial justice is possible take flight.

Alexander’s statement itself is the expression of a knowledge and politics in excess of the liberal reforms its various reproductions have been used to support. In this statement, Alexander is not asking to be identified as an innocent victim who has been treated unfairly by a fundamentally or even potentially just criminal legal system. She is instead fundamentally questioning what can be done in a society that originated as a slave democracy — a society whose foundational violence produces the structural position of blackness, which is constituted by and as indefensibility. There are two sides of the law: the right and the wrong; and Alexander has always been captive on the wrong side. No matter what she did, the law did not apply to her.

No matter the volume of officially documented evidence of abuse, or the active injunction of protection against domestic violence. No matter the “normative value” of her marital status, socio-economic status, and educational attainment. And no matter Alexander’s own recounting of the violence she experienced and the fear she felt on that day and many others, the judge overseeing her pretrial hearing reasoned that there was “insufficient evidence that the Defendant reasonably believed deadly force was needed to prevent death or great bodily harm to herself,” because Alexander did not show visible signs of serious bodily injury and her actions — re-entering the house with a gun rather than exiting through the front, back, or garage door — were “inconsistent with a person who is in genuine fear for her life.” No matter the lack of evidence disputing Alexander’s claim that she could not have safely exited her home; or the fact that Stand Your Ground explicitly stipulates no duty to retreat.

Read more »

It was raining, I think, when the call came. She just said: “He’s dead.” That’s all I remember. Over the next few days, words cascaded over me: drunk driver, head on, no pain, quickly, dead, dead, dead. Still more days passed, then months, there was a trial. I didn’t go to court. I don’t remember what was said. I was 15. He was only 16. I had a crush on him. I think he knew. Today I can only remember his face by looking at an old photograph. I only have one.

I hope he dies too. I think I said these words or at least I thought them. I hope they kill him. Then Claire’s words, “he must feel terrible for killing my son. He must be in so much pain.” I wanted to smack her for her disloyalty. What a bad mother who couldn’t even grieve her own son properly. How dare she betray him that way? I wanted blood. She told his wife and son that she wished neither him or them any harm. She asked how they were holding up. The wife of the killer just cried. I heard the story second hand. I was seething. WHAT IS THIS? I thought. I didn’t understand… For many years, I just wanted blood…

Every night (early morning), before I go to bed, I visit the Death Penalty Information Center’s website to check whether someone has been murdered by the State. On days when a person has been killed, I say a prayer of forgiveness for the blood that I have on my hands. These deaths, however, barely register in the public square. Out of sight and out of mind. So far in 2014, seven people have been executed in our names. I’ve offered seven prayers and it’s just over a month into the new year.

“Capital punishment, one might say, is written about only in whispers.” – Albert Camus

I’m told that support for the death penalty is dropping. Yet 60% of Americans still support state sanctioned murder. In this country, we invent the “other” so that we may kill them, dead. Not in public anymore but hidden behind prison walls. For a country that both loves & fears death so much, we are eerily and strangely silent about state-sanctioned murders be they by lethal injections or drones.

Last April, though it feels much more distant now, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev and his brother, Tamerlan, were accused of planting two bombs at the Boston Marathon. Three people were killed (including an 8 year old child) and hundreds more were maimed & injured. It was a tragedy that should not have happened. Tamerlan Tsarnaev, the alleged mastermind of the crime, is dead and Dzhokhar, the younger brother, is incarcerated awaiting trial. He will be convicted. Of this, there is no doubt.

In the immediate aftermath of the bombing, a number of ordinary people sprung into action to help the victims of this heinous crime. They showcased what’s best about us as human beings, exhibiting selflessness, kindness, and compassion.

On the other side of the ledger, when asked by reporters about the suspect’s condition, the now-former Mayor of Boston responded: “Who cares?” Social media was rife with high fives and praise for the Mayor’s quip. Menino followed up by stating that he wanted the harshest possible punishment (including potentially the death penalty) for the surviving accused bomber, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev. There would be more blood shed, a life for a life.

Few could be surprised that many were clamoring for Tsarnaev’s execution. For example, Boston’s then police commissioner, Edward Davis, said that it was fine by him if Tsarnaev was killed. ‘Justice’ must be served.

I did not join the chorus calling for the accused killer’s state-sponsored murder. The 15 year old me would have. But as a grown-woman, I’ve come to understand that vengeance is not justice. The measure of a society’s level of civilization, in my opinion, is how it treats those who have most egregiously transgressed its social norms.

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My organization is preparing to release a new curriculum/activity guide in the next few weeks. The guide will provide educators and organizers with more resources and tools to engage youth and adults in discussions about the prison industrial complex.

One resource that is already available thanks to my friend Frank Edwards who digitized the information is a quiz about the PIC. It’s 25 questions long and can be accessed HERE.

If you take the quiz and have some suggestions for improvement, feel free to leave them in the comments section.

I hope that you find the quiz to be informative and educational!

The Geto Boys remind you that you should NEVER talk to the cops. Ask for your lawyer…

I’ve written about Gwendolyn Smith’s story before. In reading Devil in the Grove by Gilbert King a couple of years ago, I came across a reference to letters that black women and their families wrote to the NAACP asking for assistance when they had been raped by white men. Local law enforcement almost never investigated these cases.

I was intrigued and wrote to King to ask where he had found the letters that he referenced. He was kind enough to respond to me and to share one particular letter that he found at the Library of Congress. The letter was from a 14 year old Harlemite named Gwendolyn Smith who bravely wrote to the NAACP in 1940 to tell them about her rape at the hands of a white doctor.

The original letter was handwritten and then later transcribed over her signature. Her words illustrate how unsafe it was to be a young black girl in America in the mid-20th century and remind us that it is still unsafe for some black girls in the 21st century. Her story illustrates the institutional violence that young women of color were subjected to in the 1940s: hospitals that were unresponsive, prosecutors who were unhelpful, and social services that were neglectful and ultimately oppressive.

As we are focused on black history month, I wanted to republish Gwendolyn’s letter as a testament to the resistance of ordinary black women. These stories too are integral to black history.

My name is Gwendolyn Smith. I live at 446 West 151 St. I am 14 years old. I go to P.S. 164. I am in the 8G.

On August 31 my mother had a sick blank and this doctor was to fill it out. He is a relief doctor. He is Dr. Henry Leob, white, and he was living at that time at 238 Fort Washington Avenue. He told my mother to send me or my sister up to his place and he would sign the blank. On August 31, 1940, I left my house about 6:30 P.M. and went to get my girl friend, Doris Brice, 3032 St. Nicholas Place and we both walked to the doctor’s office. When we got up there the doctor opened the door. We didn’t see anybody else in the reception office. He told me to go into his other office so he could sign the blank and my girl friend stayed in the reception room. I did and he started to fill the blank and before he signed it he came over to me and asked me to do him a favor. I didn’t know what he meant and before I could say anything he asked me to go into the other room and then I knew what he meant. I went to the door where I came in and it was locked. He grabbed me. I put up a struggle and scratched his face. I didn’t scream because I didn’t want my girl friend to know what was happening because I was ashamed. He got me into the other room. When I got into the little room there was a couch with a rubber sheet on it. I didn’t see when he opened his pants and I started to run back into the other room. He grabbed me and put me on the couch and got on top of me. He pulled my pants down and put his thing into me. He stayed on top of me about four or five minutes. Then he got up and gave me a piece of cotton and I was so mad I didn’t take the cotton and I used my handkerchief. There was some blood on it. So I ran out to the office and I grabbed the paper from the desk and I asked him to open the door and I ran out and told my girl friend, let’s go and she asked me what I was doing for so long. I told her I was visiting his family. So we went home. My mother has a funny way of knowing things. She asked me if anything was wrong. And why I was gone so long. I didn’t tell her. We got home about nine o’clock.

About September 31 I began to feel sluggish and I didn’t have my periods and my mother took me to Dr. Leob to be examined twice and each time he examined me he said nothing was wrong. He gave me a medicine and I took it and my periods began to come a little bit. But I kept on feeling sick and on November 20 my mother took me to Dr. Bell, 211 West 140th Street, New York, and he examined me and said that he wasn’t sure anything was wrong but for her to bring me to his office that night and he would give me a thorough examination. Then I told my mother what had happened. She almost fainted. and she telephoned Dr. Leob and he came right away to my house and she told him and he said he didn’t have intercourse with me. I told him that he did. He said that maybe I had a boy friend and she said that it wasn’t true, that she is strict with me never leaving me out of her sight except to go to the movies. He kept walking up and down the floor and rubbing his hands. He looked frightened. And said to mother to take me up to his office and he would take care of me. When mother told Dr. Bell he said not to take me up there but that he would take me Friday to Harlem hospital. He took me to Harlem hospital Friday and they said I was three months pregnant. On Tuesday, November 26 I went back with my urine and I have not heard from them. When we got back home the man from the Children’s Society was there. I don’t know who called them. Dr. Bell had sent a report to the relief people. So they asked me questions. We didn’t hear no more from them so Dr. Bell told us to go to the District Attorney’s office. On November 28 we went to the District Attorney’s office and signed the complaint and talked to Assistant District Attorney Titilo. He asked me to tell my story and asked me to come back with Mr. Miller of the Children’s Society the next day. So we went back with Mr. Miller and I had given Mr. Miller the medicine Dr. Leob [___________] said he was going to have it examined and the District Attorney said he would wait until he got a report on the medicine to see if there was something in it to destroy something before he could arrest Dr. Leob. They said they couldn’t arrest him because he was a doctor and he could lose his license and he could bring suit against them. Mr. Miller told us to come down there last Monday (December 2) to be examined by the Children’s Society doctor and we couldn’t see the doctor on Monday and we went on Tuesday and saw him and he examined me and he said I was pregnant. But I was too sore to let him examine me thoroughly. Mr. Miller said he would get in touch with us but we didn’t hear from him, neither did we hear from Harlem Hospital.

The lady from the Social Service in Harlem asked my school to expel me.

Gwendolyn Smith

Read more »

Thanks to the wonderful Julian you can enjoy the following mixtape of songs about the prison industrial complex. Special thanks to some of my Twitter followers who contributed suggestions to the list. You can access the mixtape here. Feel free to share it with others.

In exchange for listening to the mixtape, I ask that you please take a minute to learn about Marissa Alexander and if you can that you make a donation to her Freedom Fundraiser.

Senator Ira Silverstein (D-8) filed SB2651 to LOWER the age of mandatory transfer of a juvenile to adult court for a new offense category. It is assigned to the Senate Criminal Law Committee, for a hearing which is scheduled for Wednesday at 9 am.

Senator Silverstein should hear that there are serious concerns about his bill (SB2651).
His office number is (773) 743.5015.

Here is an overview of some of the concerning details about the bill. It:

1. lowers the age of Illinois’ mandatory transfer provision from 15 yrs old (currently set) to 13 years old for the charge of battery with specific intent to cause the victim to lose consciousness.
2. removes juvenile court authority to determine appropriateness of transfer for an individual child–a juvenile court judge IS REQUIRED to permit transfer as long as there is a mere finding of probable cause without an individualized review.
3. Illinois law ALREADY allows ANY child 13 or older to be tried in adult court based on ANY charge. The prosecution must petition the court and the court must consider individualized factors in making this decision. Courts should be the judge of the critical issue to transfer a child to adult criminal proceedings.

The court MUST review the following factors amongst others:
* the age of the minor;
* previous criminal history;
* previous abuse or neglect history,;
* mental health, physical, educational history;
* the circumstances of the offense including the seriousness and whether the minor is charged through accountability as well as the seriousness of the harm and whether the minor possessed a deadly weapon;
* the advantages of treatment under the juvenile court system;
* the minor’s history of services including the minor’s willingness to participate in services;
* whether the security of the public requires sentencing under the adult criminal code
SEE 705 ILCS 405/5-805 (3)

This bill proposal means that the consideration of the above listed factors will be eliminated. Instead, a juvenile court judge MUST permit transfer as long as there is a mere finding of probable cause.

In other words, under this proposal, a 13 year old charged with battery with specific intent to cause the victim to lose consciousness will, upon a finding of probable cause, MUST be tried as an adult.

SB2651 denies:

1. consideration of the 13 year old’s previous history, or mental health or even whether the charge is through accountability.
2. the kind of meaningful due process transfer hearing required under Kent v U.S. (because it denies individualized review).
3. Arguably, the individualized review of the minor’s youth required under Miller v Alabama (recent U.S. Supreme Court decision overturning mandatory life without parole). Note that the constitutionality of automatic transfer post-Miller world is already pending before the IL Supreme Court in several cases.

It is time to roll the clock back and return to the Kent protection of an individualized due process review of the transfer issue by a juvenile court judge – the process in place in Illinois prior to 1982.

Please take 2 minutes to call Sen. Silverstein to OPPOSE SB2651 at (773) 743.5015.

I’ve always liked this song by Brand Nubian. It’s from back in 1994 which is probably when I stopped really listening to rap music (LOL!).