Views in brief

The legacy of police abuse

ONE OF the great and humbling privileges about teaching in prison has been learning much more closely about how far the criminal justice system actually intrudes into the lives of members of Black, Brown and poor communities in this country.

I thought I understood this before. I did, in theory, as statistics. As ideas. But not in my bones, or my skin. Not with my heart. There are neighborhoods in this country, lots of them, where it isn't possible to grow up without knowing many, many people who have spent time in prison. Where you can't grow up or leave your house without knowing the police are a hazard to you, personally--to your ability to be part of your family, to provide for them or to be provided for. Where you can't look at the police as anything but the violence they inflict, because to do that would be naive and would raise your own risk of harm.

I've also heard and seen what life is really like for people who are incarcerated, people who hear and feel the brutality of the system every single day of their lives. People who wake up in it, are told when they can shower, when they can see the sun, are searched and beaten and threatened at will, have the few things they are allowed to own taken from them at random.

My students are the privileged few among our nation's many, many incarcerated people. The luckiest of them will eventually rejoin communities outside prison walls. We hope they'll remain there. But they will take with them their experiences as victims of violence. They will help raise children and grandchildren who will need to be taught about that violence and risk in order to protect them and prepare them to move, slightly more attentively, through their neighborhoods. They will need to be taught so they have a framework to draw on when it comes the inevitable time to grieve their neighborhood's Freddie Grays, Michael Browns, Rekia Boyds...the list goes on.

Police brutality doesn't end with shootings, or spines broken in police custody, or batons and tear gas at protests. It doesn't end with perjuries and rapes by police officers that go unprosecuted. There are neighborhoods where it just doesn't end. Not ever. It's a factor of daily life.

If you don't understand Baltimore, try to ask yourself: given that experience, how would your life have to be different for you to be as brave as the kids in those streets? Which of your assumptions about how things work would have to be false?

I'm humbled and honored that my students, my friends, my colleagues have helped me better get that. I'm shocked by how much I didn't get before. And I'm lucky, so lucky, to have the chance to know some of the people our country discards as full humans, who are funny, creative, smart, kind, receptive, open, challenging, quick and generous. I wish everyone could feel that with me; it changes everything.
Nell Quest, New Brunswick, New Jersey

California's other prison crisis

AS SUMMER 2015 approaches, fans anxiously await the release of the third season of Netflix's highly viewed comedy-drama series Orange is the New Black (OITNB). The original series is based on Piper Kerman's memoir of her year spent within the confines of a women's correctional facility in Danbury, Connecticut.

Although OITNB has drawn more attention to the issues surrounding the life of women in prison, the majority of people fail to acknowledge the 646 percent increase of women in jail or prison in the United States over the last three decades. According to the California Budget and Policy Center, California taxpayers will have spent over $10 billion dollars on corrections by 2016, which is more than $62,000 per inmate, per year.

Interestingly, research has shown that nearly 80 percent of incarcerated females have experienced some form of abuse and 40 percent of criminal convictions leading to incarceration of women were for drug crimes. Given the evidence of the drastic influx of women in jail or prisons and the expenditure of billions of taxpayer dollars, it is not unreasonable to expect that corrections is investing in substance abuse treatment, education and psychological counseling, right?

Well, let's just say even though the state of California has the highest number of incarcerated females in America, women in California state prisons and jails are receiving far fewer services than their male counterparts. The number of women in the state prison population is rising 1.5 times higher than men, but women have far fewer treatment options.

I will never forget 2014, as it was the year I spent working at Twin Towers Correctional Facility in downtown Los Angeles. The women I worked with were serving their sentence for AB 109, which is part of California's initiative to reduce state prison populations by placing nonviolent offenders into county jails. The women eligible for this program have a history of substance abuse, as well as physical and sexual trauma.

Several times a day, women from inside their pod doors yelled at program staff, saying: "Mam' can I please have my intake done? I have been waiting for over three weeks!" When they said they had been waiting, that meant that they were locked inside their rooms while other women got to leave for the program. Women were nearly begging to become enrolled in the substance abuse and counseling program. However, there was simply not enough room to do so. The question is why?

A total of $9.1 billion was put in the California budget for the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR) for the 2013-14 fiscal year. The amount allocated specifically for rehabilitative programs and services for inmates was only $3.9 million. The CDCR is spending more money on prison staff, administration processes and prison wardens than on rehabilitation of the offenders.

There is no shame in wanting to binge-watch an entire season of OITNB in one night. However, if we want to put a halt to the reality of the rapidly growing rate of women being incarcerated, it is imperative that comprehensive treatment services and programs become a priority. California is putting billions of tax dollars into the hands of the CDCR; therefore they must put effort into developing programs for women in prison and community corrections. Otherwise, what are we paying for?
Jessica Baes, Los Angeles

Maryland's insult on top of injury

IN RESPONSE to "The Baltimore Rebellion": The largest settlement Maryland law allows for victims of police brutality is $200,000.

One example of their brutality: Eighty-seven-year-old Venus Green's grandson was shot and came running to her for help. When the paramedics and police responded to her 911 call, the cop said to her grandson: "You're lying. You know you were shot inside that house. We ain't going to help you because you are lying." When the cop wanted to go into the house even after Green told the cop what had happened, Green demanded a warrant. His response, "Bitch, you ain't no better than any of the other old Black bitches I have locked up."

Then Green said, "He pulled me up, pushed me in the dining room over the couch, put his knees in my back, twisted my arms and wrist and put handcuffs on my hands and threw me face down on the couch," leaving her with a broken shoulder.

Her award? Ninety-five thousand dollars, which probably didn't even cover her medical expenses.
Bill Michtom, Portland, Oregon

Racism in Hollywood

IN RESPONSE to "Hollywood's big whitewash": As an African American who loved watching the Avatar: The Last Airbender show on Nickolodeon, I find this racism disgusting. This quote from Derek Kirk Kim resonated with me the most:

What if someone made a "fantasy" movie in which the entire world was built around African culture? Everyone is wearing ancient African clothes, African hats, eating traditional African food, writing in an African language, living in African homes, all encompassed in an African landscape...but everyone is white. How offensive, insulting and disrespectful would that be toward Africans and African Americans? How much more offensive would it be if only the heroes were white and all the villains and background characters were African American?

Minority actors have a hard enough time finding lead roles. So when they give roles to white actors in minority stories it is harmful. I will not support films that do this.
Eliza Miller, Brooklyn, New York