Shut 'em down.

These past few weeks mark fifty years since two historical moments in prison abolition occurred. To honor them, dozens of organizers have banded together under Jailhouse Lawyers Speak (JLS) to rally “National Shut ‘em Down Demonstrations” on August 21 and September 9 to fight for the end of the prison-industrial complex (JLS).

TAKE ACTION

Donate to Jailhouse Lawyers Speak (JLS), a national Black-led collective of imprisoned people fighting for prisoners' human rights by providing legal education, resources, and assistance to other prisoners.
Watch a video on what really happened during the Attica Prison Rebellion.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

The first date, August 21, represents the date that radical theorist and organizer George Jackson was assassinated by prison guards at San Quentin State Prison in California while attempting to lead a prison uprising. News of his death rallied organizers in prisons across the country, including those in Attica Correctional Facility in New York.

Although the Attica Prison rebellion itself was unplanned, prisoners had already been fighting to change the horrific conditions of the facilities. Prisoners were granted only one shower a week and one roll of toilet paper a month. They were also paid “slave wages,” with one prisoner noting that he made thirty cents a day doing laundry (Project NIA). A group of prisoners had banded together and wrote a list of demands — demands that weren’t ever met.

But things escalated after an altercation occurred in the yards on September 8, 1971. Because of it, two prisoners were escorted by guards to the “box,” a segregated part of Housing Block Z, where officers were known to inflict torture and brutality. Prisoners were outraged, especially because one of the prisoners wasn’t involved in the altercation. The next day, the 1,300 prisoners joined together and took control of the facilities (Project NIA). They took 39 people hostage and made demands for their release, including better living conditions, better food, religious freedom, more frequent showers, and ending mail censorship. State officials refused to comply (NV Database).

After four days, the New York state governor approved a raid to retake the facilities by force. Hundreds of state troopers, aided by the National Guard, stormed the facilities. They dropped tear gas and fired indiscriminately. In the end, 29 prisoners and ten hostages were killed. The state and federal governments worked quickly to cover their tracks, blaming and persecuting prisoners for the deaths of the hostages that they didn’t commit. A commission dedicated to investigating the truth behind the uprising stated that “with the exception of Indian massacres in the late 19th century, the State Police assault which ended the four-day prison uprising was the bloodiest one-day encounter between Americans since the Civil War” (Project NIA).

Despite these protests and the public outrage that followed, conditions in state and federal prisons are far from tolerable. And since then, incarceration rates have skyrocketed. In 1970, there were 48,498 people in federal and state prisons in the U.S (Project NIA). Today, fifty years later, there are about 1.8 million people (Vera). Because of overcrowding, poor healthcare and lack of access to hygienic materials, more than 661,000 incarcerated people and staff have been infected with coronavirus as of April 2021. At least 2,990 have died (EJI). As a result, there have been at least 106 rebellions held in prisons across the country regarding these inhumane conditions, many of which have largely gone unnoticed. In order for us to change these conditions, we must dismantle our nation’s false sense of comfort with the horrors of our criminal justice system. And that takes us listening – and supporting – the voices of those most impacted.

Key Takeaways

Today marks 50 years since the Attica Prison Rebellion, one of the bloodiest prison rebellions in our nation’s history.
Organizers across the country have planned demonstrations to rally against the brutalities of the prison-industrial complex.
Despite historical attempts to create change, state and federal prisons still place millions of people in horrific conditions.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza

Nicole Cardoza 2/17/21 Nicole Cardoza 2/17/21

Support those most vulnerable in the winter storms.

Millions of people across the country are without power after a series of intense winter storms. From Nashville to Chicago, North Carolina to Oregon, states are grappling with power outages, car crashes, and destruction from wind, snow, tornadoes, or hail.

The situation is especially dire in Texas, where over 2 million people are without power throughout the state. Heavy snowfall and freezing temperatures have overwhelmed the state’s power grid, causing widespread outages that have left many communities without power for days on end.

Happy Wednesday, and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. This is a rougher email than usual. I’m writing at 3am after driving to a friend’s home. My neighborhood hasn’t had power for the past two days with no end in sight, a situation many in Texas are experiencing right now. The call to action below is specific to Texas, but as this storm spreads across the U.S., I encourage you to pursue more local action wherever possible.

Thank you all for your contributions! This newsletter is made possible by our subscribers. Consider giving $7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Donate or volunteer with mutual aid funds supporting vulnerable communities.
- Feed The People Dallas | Website or Venmo @feedthepeopledallas
- Mutual Aid Houston | Website or Venmo @mutualaidhou
- Austin Mutual Aid | GoFundMe or Venmo @austinmutualaidhotels
- Para Mi Gente Mutual Aid (San Antonio) | Venmo @pmgmutualaid, IG @para.mi_gente
Donate to commissary funds for those incarcerated in Texas jails receiving inadequate care (via Texas Jail Project).
Local news is critical for many people to stay informed in turbulent times, and can use your support now more than ever. Make a monthly or annual subscription to your local news site if you can. If you can't, be sure to like, follow and share their articles!

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

Texas once prided itself on its energy independence. Unlike the rest of the country, the state has its own power grid, managed by the Electric Reliability Council of Texas (ERCOT), which acts independently from neighboring states. This means that the state needs to produce enough energy to support its residents. But the grid entered this upcoming storm with a lower reserve than usual, and the weather halted or reduced power generation effort by freezing refineries and wind turbines. It’s not impossible to generate power in cold weather; cold states do it all the time. But Texas chose not to winterize their equipment (Washington Post). This, paired with the increased demand from residents, put the grid at a deficit. And the shortfall can’t be fixed overnight. It will take improved weather conditions and increased production to generate enough power to reach more residents. And in the meantime, there is no timeline for power to be restored.

Power scarcity isn’t a unique issue to Texas; Oklahoma and Louisiana have similar problems (WDSU). On a much smaller scale, California experienced a similar situation during the heatwave last summer (Bloomberg). But the scale and severity of the power outage in Texas is a grave reminder to the rest of the country of what happens when we don’t plan for unprecedented weather amid global warming.

As we often see when analyzing the impact of climate change, black and brown communities are disproportionately impacted by the latest winter storm. Across Texas, there are clear racial disparities in power outages. In Austin, for example, the communities experiencing ongoing outages are predominantly Black and brown, while downtown Austin and other pricier, mostly white neighborhoods have yet to lose power (Statesman).

The storm is also gravely impacting houseless communities across the U.S., who are already vulnerable to the pandemic. With freezing temperatures expected to continue through the weekend, shelters quickly became overwhelmed. Cities are opening more warming centers to provide temporary relief. Mutual aid networks were booking hotels for those unhoused to get a night of reprieve. In Tulsa, a record $1.5M was raised to support those unhoused (Tulsa World). However, as many of the housed community experience ongoing power outages at their own homes, they’re quickly filling up hotels, decreasing available supply.

Those incarcerated in Texas are also struggling during this time. The Texas Jail Project noted that, since losing power, those incarcerated in Harris County Jail hadn’t received hot meals or extra blankets. At another Texas jail, heaters aren’t working, and correction officers have resorted to using table salt on the walkways to mitigate ice (Keri Blakinger on Twitter). The cold and lack of power exacerbate existing inequitable conditions that already threaten their livelihood (Twitter).

The storm also conflicts with the Biden administration’s efforts to increase the vaccine distribution to communities of color – both in Texas and throughout the U.S. Appointments were postponed or canceled altogether because of the severe weather, and additional shipments are delayed. In California, though, two new FEMA sites in Los Angeles and Oakland began mass vaccinations (AP).

Haphazard weather is unavoidable. But it’s our local and federal government’s response to it that influences its severity. With so many marginalized communities in need, it’s important to remember that some of our greatest threats are man-made.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 1/31/21 Nicole Cardoza 1/31/21

Respect space for Black life.

Though the 13th Amendment abolished slavery and made involuntary servitude illegal within the U.S., it managed to preserve slavery in another form; penal labor (Center for Human Rights Education). Under Section 1 of the law:

"Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction” (Crime Report, Find Law). As written and in practice, the amendment creates a class system that allows convicted members of society to be exploited against their will (The Nation).

Happy Sunday! And welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily.

A few years ago, I was at a conference and remember talking to an architect who was studying the disparities of space, per square foot, that Black people are allocated compared to the white community – from affinity spaces on college campuses, square footage of houses, even the average space allotted to each person in a workplace. I haven't stopped thinking about it since.

I was overjoyed to see darryl's submission analyzing this topic further. I hope you find some insight from this too.

Thank you all for your support. This newsletter is made possible by our subscribers. Consider subscribing for $7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community.

ps – tomorrow we kick-off 28 Days of Black History, a digital curation of Black work. One work will be sent via email each evening in February. The update profile situation Mailchimp provides didn't work for half of our audience yesterday, so if you want to join in, simply add your email here: 28daysofblackhistory.com/ard Yes, I know it's annoying that I have your email and have to ask for it again. Mailchimp won't let us be great :(

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Respect space for BIPOC – including their pastimes / extracurricular activities, wellness classes, affinity groups, and spiritual circles.
For allies, ask yourself: How you can invite people into spaces where they are traditionally not welcome? How else can you ensure those spaces are preserved using your power and privilege.
Read Black Fatigue: How Racism Erodes the Mind, Body and Spirit by Mary Frances Winters to further understand the harmful effects of racism.
Support therapy initiatives for the Black community, like Black Men Heal and Therapy for Black Girls.

GET EDUCATED

By Juan Michael Porter II (he/him)

Last June, demonstrators, mostly Black, peacefully marched on Capitol Hill to protest police violence (Washington Post). As demonstrators held signs and chanted slogans denouncing racial violence, they were met with tear gas and sting balls. Earlier this month, mostly white people, wearing MAGA hats and Trump clothing, broke windows and doors, and assaulted uniformed police officers before storming into the Capitol Hill building during a session of Congress (NY Times). The stark contrast between the agency granted to white people – and the limited mobility of Black lives – has harmful effects on Black people.

The daily anxiety linked to the threat of violent encounters with police can cause psychological stress. In Mary-Frances Winters’ Black Fatigue: How Racism Erodes the Mind, Body and Spirit, she calls this race-based traumatic stress injury. I would argue that at the center of race-based traumatic stress injury is race-based geography--the trauma caused by the limits of Black physical space.

Controlling and limiting space is imperative to exercising power over Black lives. During slavery, enslaved Africans’ geography was confined to slave auctions, slave ships, slave quarters, and plantations. The enslaved were also falsely diagnosed with drapetomania, runaway slave syndrome (EJI.org). By limiting the physical, and mental, mobility of enslaved Africans, white supremacists were able to establish a legal society that excluded Black life.

Following slavery, racial barriers placed many formerly enslaved back on plantations as sharecroppers, sometimes working the same fields they were enslaved on (PBS). During the 1950s, as the segregated Jim Crow era came to a close, Black people managed to carve out a life in major cities across the U.S.

Despite this progress, Black communities still had limited mobility. Following the second wave of the Great Migration (1940-1970), Black people were regulated to their side of the tracks (African American Intellectual Historical Society). Laws, job ceilings, and housing covenants dictated where Black people could live and how much they could earn on their jobs. Many cities were still too racist and dangerous for Black people to travel to (for more about sundown towns, check out our previous newsletter). Living under the thumb of limited agency, and working with the understanding that, as minorities, one has to work twice as hard as a whites, is a heavy burden that can cause internalized oppression, low-self esteem, and self-doubt, among other issues (Black Fatigue: How Racism Erodes the Mind, Body and Spirit).

Richard Wright’s celebrated narrative Native Son does a brilliant job detailing how limited space affects Black lives. Wright’s opus commences with the Thomas family waking up in a wooden floor kitchenette. The main character, Bigger Thomas, endures his mother singing a melody about being brave, which bothers Bigger. The thought of being a poor Black man living in a small kitchenette with his family seeps into Bigger’s psyche, leading him to question his worthiness. Bigger grows frustrated when asked by his mother if he would accept a job offer from a wealthy white family. Bigger’s anger is connected to his exclusion from white space, yet he has to rely on a white family in order to sustain a living (Native Son).

Less than a decade after the publication of Native Son, President Harry S. Truman signed the 1949 Housing Act (Truman Library). New, affordable housing seemed promising to Black families living in kitchenettes, shotgun houses, or multiple families sharing one house. But the construction of federally funded housing came with furtive forms of carceral power, such as surveillance cameras, curfews, police raids, onsite court, and metal detectors, as well as prison-like bars that covered windows, doors, and linked buildings throughout the housing projects.

Living in government-controlled spaces, which are constructed like prisons, can psychologically prepare Black people for jail. As activist and author, George Jackson writes in Soledad Brothers: “Being born a slave in a captive society, I was prepared for prison. It only required minor adjustments.” Braving oneself for life in jail leads to a combative mindset, which for Black people, places them under stereotypes of being contentious.

Also, colleges and universities have struggled with creating safe spaces for minority students. “Schools who are serious about creating safe spaces and fostering conversations around diversity need to give faculty the appropriate training and tools,” writes Emily Deruy (The Atlantic).

The lack of agency and freedom of movement Black people experience in their communities can also help explain why geography is important to gang members. Men who are locked out of jobs, stagnated at low-paying job sites, or have limited control inside their homes – as seen with Bigger Thomas – may exercise destructive ideals of masculinity outside of the home by controlling blocks, streets, parks, or entire neighborhoods. Living under the control of local, state and federal power can impel gang members to exercise patriarchal behavior through gang leadership and to exert dominance through territory (Yearning: Race, Gender and Cultural Politics).

Race-based geography is also part of the prison industrial complex (The Atlantic). Created in Rikers Island Prison in 1993 as a way for Black detainees to protect themselves from the dominant Latin Kings, New York City’s Bloods gang has morphed into one of the most widespread gangs in the United States (Public Intelligence). Today, Bloods dominate Rikers Island, but the gang employs some of the same geographical barriers on non-gang members as Latin Kings placed on them prior to the Bloods formation.

The joint effort between local, state and federal government to implement job ceilings, heavy policing, racial violence, discriminatory laws, and limited movement harms Black life and Black communities. Recently, Oakland, Calif. implemented “Slow Streets,” a program that restricts the movement of vehicles on 74 miles of residential streets, which mirrors the role infrastructure has played in upholding racism (Washington Post). “Slow Streets'' follows the disturbing historical narrative of limiting Black mobility (Bloomberg City Lab).

For months, Black people have withstood rants from Trump about Antifa and Black Lives Matter. Yet nothing that these former groups have done remotely compares to the insurrection on Capitol Hill (Washington Post). How do Black people process the unfairness in Breonna Taylor losing her life while asleep in her home, yet white rioters are allowed to run rampant on Capitol Hill?

If the U.S. was to strip these mobility limitations, spaces – such as universities, corporate America, and in the presence of police officers – would no longer hinder Black life. Freedom of agency would also close the wealth gap, which is roughly as large as it was in 1950, and build healthy relationships and trust between people of power, medical officials, and police authority (New York Times).

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The daily anxiety linked to the threat of violent encounters with police can cause psychological issues.
The possibility of encountering violent police officers, discriminated against, or experiencing racial encounters can cause anger, aggression, and defensiveness in Black people.
The lack of agency Black experience in their communities can also help explain why geography is important to gang members.

7/14/2020 | Embrace your race privilege.

6/20/2020 | Support reparations.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 1/12/21 Nicole Cardoza 1/12/21

Abolish the death penalty.

The federal government was responsible for 10 of the 15 people who were executed under the death penalty last year, the largest number of state sanctioned murders ordered by an administration since 1896 (BBC, NYTimes). The death penalty has been wielded as a cudgel to keep Black people subjugated for centuries, first as lynchings, before being codified as state-sanctioned murder.

Happy Tuesday. Yesterday, ProPublica reported that the Justice Department is pushing ahead with plans for three executions this week – even though two of the prisoners have COVID-19 and multiple courts have objected to the government’s aggressive tactics. This email should go without saying, but I appreciate how Juan walks us through the history in today's newsletter.

Our work is made possible by our paid subscribers. You can financially contribute by making a one-time gift on our website or PayPal or subscribe for $7/month on Patreon. Thank you all for your support!

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Sign the petition urging the Trump administration to stop federal executions scheduled for the remainder of its term.
Follow the Death Penalty Information Center for any information or changes related to the death penalty.
Urge your local representatives to abolish the death penalty.
Use this list from the Equal Justice initiative to find criminal justice organizations to support in your state.

GET EDUCATED

By Juan Michael Porter II (he/him)

The death penalty has been wielded as a cudgel to keep Black people subjugated for centuries, first as lynchings, before being codified as state-sanctioned murder.

According to Ngozi Ndulue, the Senior Director of Research and Special Projects for Death Penalty Information Center, “The death penalty has been used to enforce racial hierarchies throughout United States history, beginning with the colonial period and continuing to this day.”

In a report on the historical context of the death penalty, she noted racial disparities at every level of the legal system while equating police shootings and white vigilante violence to a "modern death penalty (that) is the direct descendant of slavery, lynching, and Jim Crow-segregation" (Death Penalty Information Center).

The Supreme Court came to similar conclusions when it struck down capital punishment in 1972, due to the “arbitrary and capricious way” it had been employed up to that point, especially in regards to race. The court reversed course five years later to acknowledge that 66% of Americans supported capital punishment, but with the caveat that a “model of guided discretion” would be used (History).

Unfortunately, discretion has never guided this country when dealing with racism or the unequal punishments it leverages against Black people. Case in point; though Black people make up only 13.4% of this country’s population, they account for 32.8% of people in prison Bureau of Justice Facts).

According to still applicable findings from 1990, conducted by the U.S. General Accounting Office, 82% of reviewed studies showed that a victim’s race influenced death penalty charges, “i.e., those who murdered whites were found more likely to be sentenced to death than those who murdered Blacks” (NYTimes). Actual numbers of people executed for interracial murders since 1976 show that 21 white defendants convicted of murdering Black people were given death sentences, whereas 297 Black defendants who were convicted of murdering white people were assigned death sentences.

This final solution is not justice, especially when the legal system has been proven to associate being Black with criminality, mete out harsher sentences against Black defendants, and prevent Black people from serving on juries for death-penalty cases (VOX). What drives the racism in this disparity home is that since 1991, Black people have consistently accounted for 40% of people on death row (NYTimes, NAACP, Death Penalty Information Center).

This manifests even when violent crime is not a factor. For example, though most Americans do not support the death penalty to punish drug crimes, President Trump began tweeting for its application against those convictions in December 2018. This, despite the reality that Black people are six times more likely to be imprisoned for drug charges than white people even though both groups use drugs at similar rates, with 21.8% of Black people being incarcerated on drug charges (Drug War Facts).

Soon after Trump’s drug tweets, then-attorney general Jeff Sessions put forward a memo instructing prosecutors to apply capital punishment with reference to Title II of the Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act of 1994, nicknamed the “1994 Crime Bill” that emphasized applying the death penalty towards crimes involving drugs (CNN). And then, after 16 years of no executions at the federal level, President Trump insisted that the government “bring back the death penalty.”

In late July, Attorney General William Barr followed suit and ordered the Bureau of Prisons to schedule the deaths of five inmates. The first three executions were of white men, followed by a Navajo man and then two more white men. Critics denounced this scheduling as a political maneuver to allay racial tensions over the murder of George Floyd. As if to reinforce their claims, since September 24, the federal government has executed four Black men consecutively and of the 57 people who were on federal death row at that point, 34 were people of color, including 26 Black men (AP News).

On December 10th and 11th, two Black men, Brandon Bernard and Alfred Bourgeois, were killed. In 2018, Bernard’s legal team discovered that the trial prosecutor withheld information from the defense (NPR). Five out of the nine living jurors who sentenced him to death changed their minds after learning this (Reuters). Bourgeois was found to have an IQ ranging between 70 and 75 during his trial. This should have prevented his execution under the Supreme Court’s 2002 ruling on Atkins v. Virginia, 536 U.S. 304, which determined that the government could not put intellectually disabled people to death (NBC). Despite these disqualifying issues, both men were put to death (The Guardian). Most egregious of all, according to Robert Owen, a death-penalty litigator who represented Bernard, is that he had never seen such a speedy federal execution schedule (New Yorker).

There are currently two men on federal death row slated for execution before Trump leaves office: Cory Johnson, who was mentally disabled when he was convicted is slated for January 14 (Richmond Times-Dispatch). Dustin John Higgs, who did not pull the trigger for the murders that he was involved in, is scheduled to be executed the following day (Baltimore Sun). Both men are Black, have COVID-19, and are requesting commutation of their sentences (The Guardian).

Outrage over the deaths of Bernard and Bourgeois has come from politicians, celebrities, and ordinary citizens. As Rep. Ayanna Pressley of Massachusetts stated, "state-sanctioned murder is not justice.” And even more importantly, in a letter to Joe Biden, “With a stroke of your pen, you can stop all federal executions” and end the death penalty as an option (The Hill). Unfortunately, this will do little to save Johnson or Higgs.

While many believe that Biden will pursue criminal justice reform after he is inaugurated, it cannot be forgotten that he believes in working with both sides even when they were segregationists (Washington Post). 77% of Republicans who participated in a poll conducted by the Pew Research Center stated that they supported the death penalty, particularly older people (Pew Research). With the control that the outgoing president has over his party, it is unclear if those governmental representatives will participate in reform (Washington Post).

Anyone interested in dismantling the racist death grip on our prison system will need to put constant pressure on their elected officials if they want to see change. And while it may seem like a pipe dream, working to remove attorney generals who apply the penalty means that it will never go into effect. But the most important act is to stay informed. For the latest information about the death penalty, follow the Death Penalty Information Center, which reports on every new change in policy and law. For too long, the legal system has relied upon the belief that ordinary citizens do not care. As millions of activists proved this year, when we show up and make our voices heard, change happens.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Black people are disproportionately prevented from serving from juries when the death penalty is an option and account for no less than 40% of people given death sentences.
The death penalty is legally applied to Black people informally by police officers and has been used historically to keep Black communities in check.
The president has the power to eliminate the death penalty without relying upon the legislative or judicial bodies.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 1/6/21 Nicole Cardoza 1/6/21

End felony disenfranchisement.

As the conversation about Black Lives Matter and racial inequity for Black Americans, particularly concerning police brutality and mass incarceration, was brought to the forefront, I decided it was a good time to re-read “The New Jim Crow” by Michelle Alexander. The book details mass incarceration in the United States and its intentions to disenfranchise Black Americans. The United States’ makes up 5 percent of the world’s population yet holds 25 percent of the world’s prisoners (ACLU). This is attributed to the war on drugs, which began in the 1970s. Nixon’s public policies led to stricter federal sentencing laws, militarized enforcement in Black and Brown neighborhoods. Incarceration has grown by ten times since then (Drug Policy Alliance). We know that the United States quickly rushes Black and Brown people into the prison system. But what happens after?

Happy Wednesday and welcome back to the newsletter. 5.2 million people were unable to vote in the presidential election due to felony disenfranchisement, an issue that disproportionately impacts the Black community. Today, Olivia outlines the breadth of felony disenfranchisement, including and beyond participating in politics.

Our work is made possible by our paid subscribers. You can financially contribute to sustain our work by making a one-time gift on our website or PayPal, or subscribe for $7/month on Patreon.

We also recently created a virtual digital community where you can engage in movement work with members near you! Read yesterday's newsletter and discuss your role with others.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Get involved with grassroots organizations like the Right To Vote Initiative to be involved in voting rights restoration year-round.
Take the pledge to hire and support the formerly incarcerated at your workplace and support them in your community. Provided by the Ban The Box Initiative.

GET EDUCATED

By Olivia Harden (she/her)

A felony conviction for any American will change their life forever. And because of racial injustice in the American criminal and judicial system, one out of every three Black men have felony convictions (Sentencing Project). But something important to know, most felony convictions are not the result of a fair trial. 94% of convictions at the state level, and 97% at the federal level, are a result of plea deals (The Atlantic). There is also a subset of the population with felony convictions that never saw any jail time at all but took a plea bargain that offered parole (The New Jim Crow). Alexander believes people convicted of felons become “second class citizens” in American society. Once the felon label is attached to your record, it’s an outcasting scarlet letter that can never be taken back.

A major roadblock for someone with a convicted felony is employment. A 2010 survey found that up to 92% of employers conduct criminal background checks (EOCC). But organizers have rallied to “Ban The Box,” an initiative that seeks to remove a particular question from application paperwork, “Have you ever been convicted of a felony?” Ban The Box’s goal is to push background checks to a later point in the hiring process so that employers consider a candidate’s qualifications first without the stigma of a past criminal conviction. Thirty states now have adopted progressive laws along these lines. Still, only a handful of states have entirely removed conviction history across federal, state, and private hiring processes (Workplace Fairness).

When employment is a stipulation of someone’s parole, and employment is difficult to obtain,, they are now at risk of being incarcerated. We know crime is linked to poverty, and without a legal stream of income, a convicted person might resort to illegal work as a means of survival. Felony convictions can also disqualify a person’s ability to get SNAP benefits (food stamps) or Section 8 Housing (NPR). All of this creates more and more paths to being reentered into the system.

Make no mistake. The easy path to incarceration for Black people was designed that way. In 1901 president of the late Constitutional Convention of Alabama, John B. Knox, and the delegates aimed “to establish white supremacy… by law — not by force or fraud.” The Jim Crow laws were meant to get around the federal laws granting Black people the right to vote. The state constitution declared persons “convicted of a felony involving moral turpitude” could not vote without having their rights restored. Other states that were formerly a part of the confederacy soon followed (The Marshall Project).

Perhaps the most important rights that must be restored to former felons is their right to vote and their right to participate in our legal system. Election season has passed, but 5.2 million Americans were forbidden to vote because of voter-law restrictions (The Sentencing Project). Voting rights differ in every state, and we saw in this year’s election in Florida that modern-day poll taxes and other felony disenfranchisement campaigns took place (Anti-Racism Daily). In contrast, California passed Prop. 17 this year, which lets parolees vote in elections. Three out of four men leaving California prisons are Black, Latino, or Asian American. (LA Times). Restoring their voting rights is a step in the right direction for marginalized communities.

But it’s also critical to restore their rights to serve on a jury. It was only this year that California, which is considered one of the most progressive states in the country, allowed former felons to sit on a jury (NBC News). If one-third of Black men are convicted of a felony in their life, that means one-third of Black men might not have the opportunity to play a part in trials, depending on where they live (Sentencing Project). By not having a voice in that part of the legal process, other people on trial may not be judged by a group that genuinely reflects a group of their peers.

Once you’re convicted, other rights can be rescinded, including the right to bear arms, parental rights, even traveling abroad (The Cochran Firm). The United States perpetuates a myth that the criminal justice system is supposed to be rehabilitating. Instead, many people who go through the system have even more problems than before. We must organize to dismantle mass incarceration. And as we do, we must simultaneously offer support and resources for those who have already been impacted.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

A felony conviction follows someone forever, affecting the ability of a person to work and receive benefits.
The racial disparities in the criminal justice system force Black and Brown people into a form of second-class citizenship.
Dismantling felony disenfranchisement means supporting initiatives like Ban The Box to fight discrimination against anyone with a criminal record.

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 12/7/20 Nicole Cardoza 12/7/20

Demand justice for Nickolas Lee.

On April 12th, 2020, Cassandra Greer-Lee discovered that her husband, Nickolas Lee, had died after contracting coronavirus in Chicago’s Cook County Jail (CCJ). At the time, the jail was the nation’s “largest-known source of coronavirus infections” (NY Times). Like many of CCJ’s detainees, Lee was awaiting trial. Today, Cassandra is sharing her personal experience with us. In this interview, she tells us about her beloved husband, her ongoing activism, and what she thinks achieving true justice for her husband would look like.

Happy Monday and welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. Today, we're centering Cassandra Greer-Lee and her fight for justice for her husband, Nickolas, and all detainees vulnerable to COVID-19. Take a few moments today to join her efforts.

This newsletter is made possible by our generous group of supporters. Join in by making a one-time gift on our website or PayPal, or giving monthly on Patreon. You can also Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). To subscribe, go to antiracismdaily.com. You can share this newsletter and unlock some fun rewards by signing up here. Thank you all for making this work possible.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Support Cassandra and other Cook County Jail protesters via @justice4nicklee or facebook.com/JusticeForNickolas. Mutual aid can be sent to facilitator @Megan-Kay-2 (Venmo) or $megankay11(Cashapp). To spread awareness, use hashtags #JusticeForNick and #FreeThemAll.
Contact your state’s attorney or county sheriff’s office. Demand that officials protect public health by protecting, isolating, and releasing detainees. (If you are in Cook County, Chicago Community Bond Fund (@chibondfund) provides templates.)
Support laws like the Pre-trial Justice Fairness Act to end money bond. Donate to bail bond funds.
Follow groups like Southsiders Organized for Unity and Liberation (@soulinchicago), Torture Justice Center (@chitorturejustice) and Nikkei Uprising to support and learn more.

GET EDUCATED

By Jami Nakamura Lin with Cassandra Greer-Lee (she/her)

Today, Cassandra is sharing her personal experience with us. In this interview, she tells us about her beloved husband, her ongoing activism, and what she thinks achieving true justice for her husband would look like.

First, some context: today, eight months after Lee died, coronavirus is again widely circulating at CCJ. As of December 4th, 316 of the 5,493 people detained in the jail have coronavirus, the highest number of current cases ever (Cook County Jail Coronavirus Tracker). Yet CCJ does not plan to release any further detainees. (In the spring, due to public pressure and coronavirus concerns, CCJ released some of “those awaiting trial and low-level nonviolent offenders” (CNN).)

Inmates, advocates, and correctional officers themselves have long argued that CCJ hasn’t done nearly enough to protect the public health of people inside (Block Club Chicago). In September, a federal appeals court upheld a judge’s earlier injunction that mandated widespread coronavirus prevention policies inside the jail, despite Cook County Sheriff Tom Dart’s appeals (Chicago Community Bond Fund). For more on the conditions inside CCJ, check out Injustice Watch.

Interview with Cassandra Greer-Lee

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

In the beginning of this painful battle, on the day Nickolas died, I called Channel 7 News. They were airing the coronavirus deaths, and I asked if they could please stop labeling him “Detainee #3”. He has a name. My battle has been to show that he was a man. Not just a detainee, not just a number. That’s why I carry his big picture around all the time. He had a family that loved him.

He was only 43 years old. He had a lot of living left to do with me. He was a phenomenal cook and a wonderful friend. He was the type of person to encourage you to do better and be better. People might have thought he was mean because he never smiled, but he wasn’t. He loved to see me smile. God couldn’t have blessed me with a better man, and I will never find another friend like him in all my life. My goal was to continue to grow old with him. But that was cut short. His death was preventable.

So I want people to know— please look past the things [Sheriff Tom] Dart said about my husband. He should have had the opportunity to go through the judicial system so a judge could decide whether he was guilty or not guilty. But instead, he was sentenced to death by coronavirus at Cook County Jail. The saddest part about CCJ and this whole system is that they would rather prepare for mass incarceration than to make programs, help children, and give money to low-income communities to prevent mass incarceration.

The jail system is not made to reform anyone. This is profit. This is human lives for profit.

I just need everyone to know— yeah, my husband was an inmate. He still deserved to live. I don’t deserve this pain. I tried to save his life. My husband tried to save his own life to no avail. And Tom Dart [who tested positive at the end of November] gets to quarantine with all the wonderful luxuries of his home and the comfort of his wife. I don’t wish him any ill will, because no one should have to go through the pain that I’m going through. But he doesn’t have to be in a hospital room alone with people coming in wearing space suits. At the hospital, my husband couldn’t even walk to the window to see me, and I was downstairs there every day he was at Stroger [Hospital]. I was just trying to send up my energy to him.

I think if he had gotten to Stroger earlier, he could have lived. But when he got there, he went straight to the ICU. He was already in an advanced stage of COVID. Based on speaking to my husband on the phone, the [CCJ] guards were scared to come on the tier. The nurses were afraid. It took until inmates were deathly ill before they could be moved [to the hospital].

I am fighting my hardest to make sure that no other family feels this pain. Unfortunately, we just filled the eighth casket that we were hoping that we wouldn’t. But we’re still fighting, and I now have forces that have joined with me. At the beginning, I was alone and no one really cared about an inmate’s wife. And then people like Chicago Community Bond Fund (@chibondfund) and Nikkei Uprising came and stood with me. People like Southsiders Organized for Unity and Liberation (@soulinchicago) and Torture Justice Center (@chitorturejustice).

On one hand, we are getting victories— on the court side, judges are agreeing with us. We were able to defund the jail by $35 million, even though it was only a fraction of the $157 million we were hoping to put back into Black and Brown communities. (Read more about Budget for Black Lives. ) We are being heard. This fight isn’t in vain.

But the victory isn’t where I really would like to see it, which is back there with the detainees [in CCJ], those human beings whose lives are in jeopardy. Their fate could be my husband’s. I keep in contact with other inmates mainly through the phone, but also when I’m outside protesting, through letters in the windows, notes on dry erase boards. I first connected with them when my husband was there— he would have other inmates call me to see if I had found any help [for his coronavirus]. Some days he was too sick to call me, so they would call me instead.

After Nick, I told them to keep calling me. My heart is so heavy for them. I am fighting for them. I was speaking to one of their mothers, and she was crying so hard. Her son’s bond is $200,000, and she just doesn’t have it. She’s doing all the overtime she can. It broke my heart because she was right: your freedom depends on wealth. And he’s not yet convicted of anything.

So for me, finding true justice for Nickolas would be first, voting Tom Dart out, and to get [a sheriff] who understands that inmates’ lives matter. Second, to end money bail. And then— I know this is farfetched— to close down county jails. Before then, to stop preparing for mass incarceration, and instead to prevent incarceration.

As of right now, the memories hurt. I try to think so hard about them, even though that’s all I have left— memories. But I have to fight. I just can’t let them murder him and do nothing. I’m going to go out every Sunday until we win. As long as my husband is dead and Tom Dart is there, I’m going to be out there.

Cassandra Greer-Lee protests in front of Cook County Jail every Sunday afternoon from 1-5pm and welcomes others to join her. For more information, check out @justice4nicklee or facebook.com/JusticeForNickolas. Mutual aid can be sent to facilitator @Megan-Kay-2 (Venmo) or $MeganKay11(Cashapp). Donations are requested for protester supplies (heaters, signs, etc) and for materials for people inside CCJ (books, crosswords, etc). To spread awareness, use hashtags #JusticeForNick and #FreeThemAll.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Nickolas Lee died on April 12th, 2020. He was a phenomenal cook, a wonderful husband and friend, and the third person detained at Cook County Jail (CCJ) to die of coronavirus. At the time, CCJ was the nation’s “largest-known source of coronavirus infections” (NY Times).
Like many people in CCJ, Lee was awaiting trial. Because of America’s unjust pre-trial money bond system, the wealthy can await trial at home, while those without enough money to pay bail remain incarcerated and at risk.
Lee’s wife, Cassandra Greer-Lee, believes that achieving #JusticeForNick means replacing Sheriff Tom Dart, ending money bail, changing our mass incarceration system, and— eventually— closing county jails.

10/29/2020 | Fight racist death row sentencing.

8/23/2020 | Support those incarcerated and impacted by COVID-19.

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Nicole Cardoza 10/29/20 Nicole Cardoza 10/29/20

Fight racist death row sentencing.

Pervis Payne, a Black man who was convicted for murder 33 years ago, will be executed in December, despite DNA evidence that could prove his innocence (CNN). While the execution of an intellectually disabled person is unconstitutional, the court didn’t recognize Payne’s disability at the time of his trial (Tennessean). The Innocence Project, a legal organization that works to exonerate the wrongfully convicted, is trying to stop Payne’s execution. As of today, “375 people in the United States have been exonerated by DNA testing, including 21 who served time on death row” (The Innocence Project).

Welcome back! It's Thursday and there's 5 days until the U.S. election. Please vote and encourage others to do the same.

And please rally for Pervis Payne. Bianca joins us today to outline his case and the racial disparities of death row sentencing. Payne has been fighting for his innocence for the past 33 years. We can take ten minutes to advocate on his behalf.

ps – this is the Anti-Racism Daily, where we send one email each day to dismantle white supremacy. You can support our work by giving one-time or monthly on Patreon (you can also support via PayPal or Venmo @nicoleacardoza). If this email was forwarded to you, you can subscribe at antiracismdaily.com.

TAKE ACTION

Sign the petition to stop the execution until the DNA has been tested.
Spread awareness about Pervis Payne’s case by sharing his story on social media.
Look at statistics on Death Row sentencing by race across the country and by state using this tool. Consider how race plays a factor in this data.

GET EDUCATED

By Bianca Gonzalez (she/her)

In 1987, Payne’s girlfriend’s neighbor and her daughter were fatally stabbed in Tennessee; the neighbor’s son was also stabbed but survived his injuries (The Washington Post). Later that day, Payne was arrested and charged with their murders and in February 1988, Payne was sentenced to be executed on December 3rd, 2020 (Commercial Appeal). For more details of Payne’s case, read The Innocence Project’s outline of his case here.

The police focused on Payne in their investigation rather than following other leads in the case, such as the victim’s abusive ex-husband or another man spotted leaving the building around the time of the murder (Innocence Project). Prosecutors argued that Payne committed the murders after being rejected for sex while on drugs, but Payne had no history of drug use, no criminal record, and was widely known as a kind person. In a complaint, Payne’s attorney, Kelley Henry, notes that Payne “was convicted after the prosecution played upon racial fears and stereotypes about Black men taking drugs and looking for white women to sexually assault” (Innocence Project). Prosecutors referred to Payne’s “dark hand” versus the victim’s “white skin” (Tennessean).

Racism plays a clear role in many of the convictions of Black defendants. 57% of the U.S. prison population consists of Black and Latinx prisoners, despite the Black and Latinx demographic only comprising 29% of the total U.S. population (The Sentencing Project). Innocent Black people are about seven times more likely to be convicted of murder than their innocent white counterparts (National Registry of Exonerations).

Moreover, Payne’s trial took place in Shelby County, Tennessee, a political and cultural climate in which the public had regularly executed innocent Black people. Shelby County is one of the 25 American counties with the highest rate of lynchings between 1877 and 1950 (Lynching in America). Lynching is a form of vigilante “justice” performed by civilians instead of the judicial system, where the mobs of people, who were usually white, would gather to torture and kill those accused of crimes, who were usually Black (NAACP). Racial stereotyping has been used to justify the lynching of Black Americans for centuries (Lynching in America).

Additionally, it is unconstitutional to execute someone with an intellectual disability (Legal Information Institute). While Payne’s disability wasn’t legally recognized at the time of his conviction, he wasn’t able to fully participate in his own case (Innocence Project). Dr. Martell, who was the expert opinion in the Atkins v. Virginia case and hundreds of other cases, concluded that Payne had an intellectual disability (Innocence Project). He found that Payne’s reading, math, and memory skills are all less than the bottom 5th percentile for his age. He had impaired language functioning and was unable to finish high school, despite working hard and never having disciplinary problems. Payne’s attorney filed a complaint to prevent Tennessee from carrying out his execution until the court considers his claim that as an intellectually disabled person, his execution would be unconstitutional (Innocence Project).

On September 16, 2020, the Shelby County Criminal Court ordered DNA testing of crime scene evidence that hadn’t previously been tested in Pervis Payne’s case. Although this could prove his innocence, his execution is still scheduled for December 3rd, 2020 (Innocence Project). Shelby County District Attorney Amy Weirich previously opposed DNA testing in the case. The court’s opposition in Payne’s case reflects their previous treatment of death row cases with innocence claims. In 2006, Sedley Alley was executed after being denied DNA testing of evidence believed to belong to the perpetrator (Innocence Project). His daughter fought for DNA testing to posthumously prove her father’s innocence but was denied in 2019 (New York Times). Both Pervis Payne and Sedley Alley could potentially be added to the list of the 172 death-row prisoners who were exonerated of the charges justifying their execution, 90 of whom were Black (Death Penalty Information Center).

It should never be controversial to include DNA evidence in any case with an innocence claim, especially when the American criminal justice system convicts racial minorities more harshly than their white counterparts. We need to fight to ensure Payne’s execution does not take place until after DNA evidence in his case, as well as his intellectual disability claim, are taken into consideration.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

DNA testing could prove the innocence of those wrongfully convicted decades ago- but some court systems are standing in the way.
Black people on trial have always been disproportionately subjected to capital punishment in America, both in the form of “vigilante justice” and through the American court system.
Innocent Black people are about seven times more likely to be convicted of murder than innocent white people (National Registry of Exonerations).

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Nicole Cardoza 9/1/20 Nicole Cardoza 9/1/20

Learn the legacy of Japanese American incarceration.

It's Tuesday and a new month. And here's hoping it brings some ease, grace, and collective healing.

I didn't learn about the Japanese American "internment" in school. Perhaps you didn't either. Yet this narrative isn't surprising considering our country's relationship with exclusion and inequitable criminal justice system. I'm grateful to have Jami's article – laced with heartbreaking personal narratives – carry us through history for today's Anti-Racism Daily. You can read more stories on incarceration on our updated archives page (long overdue for a facelift).

Thank you for all who make this work possible. If you're inspired by this work, you can give one-time on our website, PayPal, or via Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, subscribe monthly to our Patreon.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

Investigate how your state or local school district teaches Japanese American incarceration. If it’s inadequate, contact them. (Feel free to share this newsletter).
Read more about the history of Japanese America on Densho’s Core Story.
Follow Japanese American activist organizations on Instagram like @tsuruforsolidarity, @jasforjustice, and @nikkeiresisters.

GET EDUCATED

By Jami Nakamura Lin

“I was wondering how will they ever put all of us in a place that small. What surprised me most was why did the soldiers have to stand guard with guns...and to tell you the truth the way some people stared at us, it chilled me a bit.”

My grandfather, then sixteen, reflecting in 1944 on his arrival at Amache (Granada) Relocation Camp two years earlier.

Often when we talk about it amongst ourselves, we call it camp. To others, the benign-sounding word could recall sleepaway summers, pitched tents, sing-alongs around a campfire. But when I ask other yonsei (fourth-generation Japanese Americans) if their grandparents were also in camp, what I mean is: was your family also forcibly removed from their homes, from their lives? Were they also labeled the enemy and locked up for years? We call it camp, but what we mean is incarceration. What we mean is that we are just one link in the long American tradition of locking up people of color for no other reason than we are here. The effects of such incarceration linger within us, years and years after the inhabitants are set “free.”

On February 19, 1942, President Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066, which commanded the forcible evacuation of Japanese Americans living on the West Coast. As a result, 120,000 Japanese Americans (and some Canadians and Latin Americans of Japanese descent) were incarcerated (National Archives). He passed this order despite a report commissioned by Congress that showed that Japanese Americans posed no threat. The army general in charge of the West Coast summed up the general government feeling when he stated, “They are a dangerous element, whether loyal or not,” (Smithsonian).

In school— if you learned about this event at all— you probably learned about it under the name internment. But this is inaccurate, as the Japanese American-led organization Densho explains: “‘Internment’ refers to the legally permissible, though morally questionable, detention of ‘enemy aliens’ in time of war. There were approximately 8,000 Issei (“first generation”) arrested as enemy aliens and subjected to what could be described as “internment” in a separate set of camps… This term becomes a misleading, othering euphemism when applied to American citizens detained by their own government.” Today, we choose to call this event what it was: incarceration.

It was incarceration based (like much mass incarceration) not on facts or danger, but on racism and economics. After Japan’s government bombed Pearl Harbor in 1941, anti-Japanese American rhetoric was pervasive. At the same time, lobbyists representing “competing economic interests or nativist groups” pressured the federal government to remove Japanese Americans from the West Coast (Our Documents/National Archives). Incarceration also functioned as a land grab, as many white farmers were resentful of Japanese American farmers’ increasing presence. The Commission on Wartime Relocation and Internment of Civilians estimated that Japanese Americans lost what in 2020 would be $3.38 billion in property and $7 billion in income as a result of incarceration (Personal Justice Denied via National Archives).

After the order was passed, Japanese Americans were given only a few days to evacuate, only allowed to pack what they could carry. “Many of the neighbors came to offer us ridiculously low prices for our possessions,” my grandfather recalls. Their refrigerator went for a dollar; the $700 car all the family had saved up for went for $100. They were taken to Merced, California, where they spent six months in one of fifteen euphemistically titled “assembly centers,” while the Army built permanent incarceration camps (Densho). In September, my grandfather and his family were evacuated again to Amache (Granada), a camp in the middle of the Colorado desert, where they would spend the next three years in a 20x25 barracks (Amache.org).

Not one Japanese American was ever found guilty of espionage or any other war crime.

In 1980, Congress organized a federal commission to investigate the impact of Executive Order 9066. Its 467-page report (fittingly titled Personal Justice Denied) called the camps a “grave injustice, motivated by racial prejudice, war hysteria, and the failure of political leadership” (Personal Justice Denied via National Archive). Later, the Sanseis (third-generation Japanese Americans) fought for reparations for their parents and grandparents (Densho). This decades-long battle, fraught with dissent even within our community, led to the Civil Liberties Act of 1988, also called H.R. 442 in honor of the highly decorated Japanese American 442nd Regimental Combat Team (Go For Broke). The act stipulated that the $20,000 in compensation would only be paid out to survivors themselves, not descendants of any incarcerees who had died, because the government did not want to set a precedent or framework for reparations for “the descendants of slaves, [Indigenous people] forced onto reservations, Mexicans who lost land, and other historical victims of racism,” (Densho).

Today there are many Japanese American activist groups that utilize our past to work in solidarity with other people of color. We try to use the legacy of Japanese American incarceration as an opening to speak to our elders and our community. Japanese American-led activist groups are using our history to mobilize our community to protest detention sites (Tsuru for Solidarity), combat anti-Blackness (Japanese Americans Citizens League on Facebook), and fight against mass incarceration (Nikkei Uprising on Facebook). At a recent protest at Cook County Jail, young Japanese Americans lay origami cranes to honor those killed by police and who died in prison now, and our ancestors who died inside the World War II camps (NPR).

Densho’s mission – “to preserve and share history of the WWII incarceration of Japanese Americans to promote equity and justice today” – succinctly summarizes why it’s so important to remember these historical events: because the past links to the present and the future. Today, Japanese Americans as a group are no longer treated the same way we were back then (though anti-Asian sentiment during the coronavirus hearkens back to those tropes, as I write elsewhere). But incarceration and its related trauma have profoundly shaped our community and our culture.

Last week, my grandfather turned 92. He still can remember the names of all the people he knew at Amache. He remembers what cell block they lived in, what hometowns they left behind. It happened eighty years ago, and it still affects him — and us, his children and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren — to this day. The racist actions our government is taking today — the border camps, the mass incarceration, the police brutality — are going to reverberate in communities of color for decades to come.

key takeaways

During World War II, over 120,000 Japanese Americans were incarcerated because of the American government’s racist, unfounded fears.
President Roosevelt signed this executive order despite Congress finding no evidence to support it.
No Japanese American was ever found guilty of espionage or any war crime.
After a long battle, Japanese American camp survivors received monetary reparations—yet our government still refuses to discuss reparations for slavery or for Indigenous people.

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Nicole Cardoza 8/23/20 Nicole Cardoza 8/23/20

Support those incarcerated and impacted by COVID-19.

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Good morning!

Each Sunday we analyze the racial disparities of COVID-19 and how you can help. Today, Renée outlines the crisis happening in prisons and jails across America. As we continue to rally to transform our criminal justice system, we cannot forget about how so many are suffering right here, right now. Read more stories on criminal justice here.

Thank you for everyone that makes this newsletter possible. If you haven't already, consider giving one-time on our website, PayPal, or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, you can contribute monthly on our Patreon.

Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

Stay informed with The Marshall Project as it collects data on COVID-19 infections in state and federal prisons. You can view the website here.

Do you know your local or state prison? Are they allowing incarcerated people to make phone calls free of cost? If not, send an email using this template and customize it to your local or state prison.

GET EDUCATED

By Renée Cherez

As COVID-19 began making its way across America in March, the country came to the standstill of the century. Universities and schools closed their doors, nursing homes, and hospitals suspended visitation, restaurants, retail stores, and movie theaters stopped all operations to prevent the spread of this invisible virus.

Public health and safety seemed to be the utmost priority but not for the incarcerated. America's carceral system is disgustingly unique: Holding only 4% of the world's population, the United States imprisons the highest rate (20%) of incarcerated people globally (Prison Policy Initiative).

Prisons and jails are like Petri dishes where bacteria and disease spread rapidly due to close living quarters, limited to no cleaning supplies, overcrowding, and the inability to socially distance. Not only is the COVID-19 death rate of incarcerated people higher than the overall national rate, but the incarcerated are also infected by coronavirus at 5.5 times higher than the overall national rate (JAMA Network).

So far, the country’s highest cluster can be found in California’s San Quentin State Prison, where over 2,600 incarcerated people and staff have been infected, and 26 incarcerated people have died (NYT).

“I am very concerned [...]. There’s no way to social distance. We all eat together. We have a communal bathroom. There’s no way to address a public health issue in an overcrowded facility.”

An incarcerated person at San Quentin State Prison for the NYTimes

In June, Texas began testing every incarcerated person to find that both the incarcerated and staff tested positive quadruples of the number of positive cases to 7,900, resulting in 25 deaths (Prison Policy Initiative). Even more shocking is 60% of the (785 men out of 1,400) incarcerated at Michigan Lakelands Correctional Facility tested positive for the virus (Detroit Metro Times).

Like the general public, at the start of the spread, testing for the virus in prisons and jails was limited. Prisons are now mass testing the incarcerated and staff regardless of their symptoms to help slow the spread of the virus (The Marshall Project).

With over 170,000 coronavirus cases affecting the incarcerated and staff across the country, prison activists are demanding the release of vulnerable populations like the elderly. After decades of extreme sentencing as a result of the “war on drugs” and the “tough on crime” era, a large portion of the incarcerated in state prisons are over fifty-five years old and are more likely to be in poor health (The Marshall Project).

Without access to quality medical care, coupled with the brutal conditions of prison, seniors suffer from chronic health conditions such as diabetes, asthma, and hypertension, all underlying conditions that exacerbate COVID-19 (NCBI).

Family members, lawyers, and advocates have placed calls to prisons to grant early-release to the elderly, and the infirm to prevent more deaths as well as decrease the population. Frustratingly, research shows that out of 668 jails being tracked, 71% of them saw an increase in population from May 1 to June 22, while 84 jails had more people locked away on July 22, then they did in March (Prison Policy Initiative).

There has also been a push for those in jail pre-trial, detained for parole or probation violations, or near the end of their sentences to be granted early release.

“For the most part, states are not even taking the simplest and least controversial steps, like refusing admissions for technical violations of probation and parole rules, and to release those that are already in confinement for those same technical violations. Similarly, other obvious places to start are releasing people nearing the end of their sentence, those who are in minimum-security facilities and on work-release, and those who are medically fragile or older” (Prison Policy Initiative Report).

By the end of August, California could see the early release of 8,000 incarcerated people to slow the spread of the virus (LA Times). The releases will occur for those 30 or older, not serving time for what can be deemed a violent crime under state law and are not involved with domestic violence.

During this crisis, we all share the desire to stay connected with our friends and family. Some prisons and jails have begun allowing visitors. Still, most have not, which can be challenging mentally for the incarcerated as they rely on those visits from family, friends, advocates, and lawyers to keep their morale high (The Marshall Project). Because prisons are also a for-profit business, some are charging for phone and video calls during a time where unemployment numbers are similar to or greater than the Great Depression (The Intercep t).

When we think of vulnerable populations, we must be diligent in keeping the incarcerated in our minds because they are often forgotten. They are real people, with real stories and families, and their health and safety should be prioritized and valued. Society shouldn’t be judged on how they resolve what can be deemed a crime, but rather how they treat those who’ve committed said crime. Incarcerated people deserve our compassion and advocacy too.

Key Takeaways

Incarcerated people are infected by coronavirus at 5.5 times higher than the overall national rate.
Of the 668 jails tracked by the Prison Policy Initiative, 71% of them saw an increase in population from May 1 to June 22 rather than a decrease.
California’s San Quentin State Prison has the largest cluster of COVID-19 cases in America.

7/26/2020 | Pay attention to the Portland protests.

7/20/2020 | Protect your community from the harm of gentrification.

7/6/2020 | Abolish qualified immunity.

7/2/2020 | Remove police from our public schools.

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Nicole Cardoza 6/6/20 Nicole Cardoza 6/6/20

Give to bail funds – and abolish cash bail.

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Today's practice looks at one of the many systems in our society that protect and perpetuate racism. With increased attention on bail funds in the wake of this week's protests, there's a powerful opportunity to rally around criminal justice reform. Here's a brief overview on the importance of bail funds and how cash bail influences mass incarceration.

As always, your one-time or monthly contributions make this grow. I'm hiring a dedicated staff member and introducing a text option next week!

- Nicole

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TAKE ACTION

1. Sign the petition to #EndMoneyBail.

2. Use the National Bail Fund Network's list of List of Protest Bail Funds to support protestors in your state. Some may have raised enough funds, but subscribe to their work regardless so you can support when they need help again.

REFLECT

How much did I know about cash bail before reading this?

What privileges do I have that prevent me from understanding how incarceration works?

GET EDUCATED

"Why is everyone giving to bail funds?"

Charitable bail funds are community-based organizations that raise money to post bail for others. They've raised a ton of money over the past couple weeks from supporters of the national unrest after the death of George Floyd, which shows that we are committed to protecting protestors from the dangers of our criminal justice system.

But bail funds weren't created for this protest. They've been around for a very long time. And they're necessary because cash bail is a major reason why people – particularly Black people, are incarcerated. Cash bail fund donations are important today, but cash bail reform is important for tomorrow.

"Affirming that black lives matter on Instagram is one thing, but challenging millions of your followers to support Black people engaging in civil disobedience is a far bolder stance."
Hannah Giorgis in Why It Matters That So Many People Are Donating to Bail Funds in The Atlantic

Here's how bail works.

When someone is arrested, they are taken into police custody. They have to wait until they are charged, which, in this climate, can take days. Then, depending on the severity of the crime, they are required to pail bay to be released until their trial. Otherwise, they remain in jail. Usually, the bail funds aren’t returned until the court case is completed, which can take forever – or not happen at all. Read more here.

It goes without saying that this process is disproportionately impacting people of color generally – and Black people during these protests. Not only are Black people and other people of color targeted for arrests, many do not have the financial capacity to offer cash bail immediately (remember that most Americans in the U.S. don’t have $1,000 for an emergency). So this process can cause significant financial constraint. There are, of course, bondsmen that can loan the money with interest, which only exacerbates the strain.

This is a very simplistic overview. Cash bail laws differ greatly by state and region, and some have already abolished cash bail. Google “bail laws in [insert your state]” to start learning more.

Via @financesnacks on Instagram

Also remember that we’re protesting in the midst of a global pandemic. Extended time in jail increases the likelihood of contracting COVID-19, exacerbating the financial and health strains of being detained.

Lastly, and most significantly, people experience incredible stress and trauma when they are arrested and detained, especially if unlawfully. This conversation is always a conversation about public health, regardless of the pandemic.

"There are typically more than 700,000 people in U.S. jails, and about two-thirds of them have not yet been convicted of a crime and are there mostly because they couldn’t make bail."

The Marshall Project

"But cities with bail reform and all these bail funds are letting looters back on the streets! They’re keeping us unsafe!"

There’s a slight chance that making bail more attainable (or eliminating it) can send harmful offenders back on the street. But considering our history, it’s otherwise GUARANTEED we will unfairly detain someone and cause them significant trauma and financial burden.

Remember the story of Kalief Browder, who was held at Rikers Island in New York City without trial for three years for allegedly stealing a backpack after his family was unable to make bail. He was in solitary confinement for two of those three years. The trial was eventually dismissed based on lack of evidence. He died by suicide two years after being released. His bail was set at $3,000.

Remember the story of Sandra Bland, who was detained after being pulled over by a state trooper for "failing to signal a lane change". She was found dead in her cell three days later as her family tried to post her $5,000 bail.

We can’t ignore that race is usually at the center of this narrative. Proponents against cash bail reform and bail funds are centering the protection of white people over the consistent harm against Black people and other people of color.

In this conversation and ALL conversations we need to center the people most vulnerable to harm. And in America, that's protecting people from the worst of our systems. We will talk more about what centering means in an upcoming issue.

"But alternatives to cash bail aren't perfect, either!"

There's been lots of conversations on how algorithmic assessments of risk are also racially-biased, and I think we need to do a lot of work to find a more just alternative. But I don't think the answer to "there's not other perfect solution" is to stop trying. We see this a lot in anti-racism conversations, and it often doesn't actively contribute to the work moving forward.

Learn more about cash bail and the racial lines of mass incarceration.

Time: The Kalief Browder Story on Netflix

Say Her Name: The Life and Death of Sandra Bland on Netflix

13th available for free on YouTube

How Does Bail Work, and Why Do People Want to Get Rid of It? NYTimes

The Fight to End Cash Bail in the Standard Social Innovation Review

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The outpouring of bail funds during these protests show that our community is committed to systemic change
Cash bail is a main contributor to the mass incarceration we see in America
We need to donate to bail funds but also advocate for cash bail reform in our communities

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Key Takeaways

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

KEY TAKEAWAYS

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

KEY TAKEAWAYS

Related Issues

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

KEY TAKEAWAYS

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

KEY TAKEAWAYS

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

KEY TAKEAWAYS

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

key takeaways

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

Key Takeaways

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

TAKE ACTION

GET EDUCATED

KEY TAKEAWAYS

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT